Hero (Alpha Mountain 1)

Except they’d been a reminder that I wasn’t part of a couple. That I didn’t have a guy to climb into a tent with at night. That the only dick I was getting was made out of silicone and came with a charging cord.

A ten-mile hike to Messer Lake was tiring no matter how many times I’d been there, and I was ready for a few days off. My next scheduled trip, this time a white water rafting and camping combo, meant I’d be gone for a week.

My house was on the edge of town. It was nothing big, just a cute little rancher. My parents had given me the down payment for it a few months after Buck had died. When it had come on the market—after the elderly owner moved into assisted living—they’d thought it would be perfect for me. Perfect that they knew I would be living nearby, putting down roots in Sparks instead of going off and getting myself blown up.

I wasn’t sure if the house purchase was for me or for them. It didn’t really matter. Buck’s death skewed everything about what was important. I never intended to leave Sparks, and I had only for college. I’d started to work for the wilderness company after graduation, and I’d been there ever since. My plan was to start my own business someday, but I hadn’t had the confidence to do it, especially with Buck gone. He’d left for basic training when I was thirteen and had only been back on leave a few times in all the years since. I was used to him being away, but that was so much different than him being gone.

I turned down my street and blinked.

“What the hell?”

Two sheriff vehicles were in front of my house. I pulled into my short driveway and glanced around. The last time I’d had contact with someone official was when they came to tell us about Buck.

“Oh my God.” I hopped from my SUV like it was on fire and ran for the front door, my heart in my throat. Megan Hager, a sheriff deputy, stood there, hand resting on the butt of her gun, waiting for me.

“My parents? What’s wrong?” I said, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Megan raised her hand and offered a small smile. She stepped close, set that hand on my shoulder and met my eyes. She was the same height, so her dark gaze was direct.

“Your parents are fine.”

I exhaled and felt like an empty balloon. I dropped onto the concrete stoop in relief. It was the middle of the day, and the neighborhood was quiet. Everyone was at work.

“Okay. Okay. Good.” I set a hand on my chest and tried to calm down. I had no idea I could be so panicked, so fast.

She squatted in front of me in her crisp tan uniform. The walkie talkie on her hip beeped, and someone was talking, but the volume was too low for me to understand. Megan was a few years older than me, closer to Buck’s age. She’d grown up in Sparks and only left town to go to the police academy in Missoula before returning and joining the local sheriff’s department. Every time I saw her, I thought she looked more like a model than a law enforcement officer, but she couldn’t help that she was gorgeous. Bad guys must stop running away just to get her number.

“I’m sorry I scared you like that,” she said, offering me a sympathetic smile. She was quiet for a moment, letting me settle. “We’re here because your house was broken into.”

I whipped my head around to my partially opened door. Now I noticed the damage to the door I’d painted red earlier in the summer and the frame. Beyond, my coffee table was upside down.

I popped to my feet and pushed the door open.

“Holy shit.”

It was as if a hurricane had come through the inside of my house. Couch cushions strewn. Books on the floor. Kitchen cabinets opened. As I walked in, I could see through to my bedroom, and my clothes had been tossed.

“I’m guessing you were off on a guide trip,” she said, her voice calm and even.

I nodded, staring at my desk. It was beneath the big bay window that looked out onto the street, the mountains in the distance. I loved the view.

My papers were everywhere. Drawers dumped on the carpet.

“Yeah,” I said, taking it all in. “I’ve been gone a few days.”

Another officer came out of my bathroom. “Hey, Indi.”

It was Dan Murphy. Mid-thirties, had a wife and two kids. Coached the little league baseball team. I knew this about him, and they both knew about me, my job. Buck. About everything.

“Can you tell us if anything looks missing?” he asked.

I ran a hand over my scraggly hair. God, I was a mess and smelled.