Deep Woods

We were building it with thick log walls that would be warm in winter, cool in summer, like the old cabin. But there were going to be modern touches, too. There’d be solar panels on the roof so that we had power, a chest freezer to store the meat Cal brought back from hunting trips, and a modern bathroom with a shower big enough for two. We’d rescued Cal’s old metal tub, though—one of the few things to survive the fire—in case we wanted to bathe out under the stars.

Rufus had already moved in. Even though the roof wasn’t on yet, he’d dragged his blanket into the middle of what would eventually be the lounge and curled up on it, happy.

Jacques, who had healed up well from his injuries, had taken care of the animals at the smallholding until we could arrange to transport them here. Now Betsy was chewing the cud on her new patch of pasture land, the chickens were clucking happily in their new coop, the pigs were rolling in the mud in their new pen and Hank was helping by eating all of the weeds..and anything else he could get hold of.

We’d already built a barn: Betsy and Hank had gotten a roof over their heads before we did, which might have seemed crazy to some people but we’d wanted to make sure they were safe from predators. And sleeping cuddled up to Cal in a tent for the last few weeks hadn’t exactly been a hardship. Now we were working to get the house built and then came the vegetable garden, planting some wheat, a coat of paint for the barn (I was thinking red and white)...there was a lot to do, but I was loving it. We had the advantage that Cal had done all this before. The difference was, this time, he didn’t have to do it all on his own.

The first few days after the port had been a blur. There’d been hours of questioning by the police and countless sessions with the FBI to take statement after statement, before we’d finally been allowed to get some sleep at a local motel.

Even now, months later, the investigation was still going on. The other women were all questioned, too, and charges were being brought against Cairns, the attorney general, Ralavich, the guards who worked at the mansion, and all of the members. The club’s membership was extensive and went way beyond just the men who’d happened to be in the mansion over those few weeks. The FBI had found computer records at the mansion that led to a broad swathe of arrests across the Senate, the House, industry, and Hollywood. Every day, the press broke a new story about a man who’d thought he was untouchable being led away in handcuffs.

Cal looked up at the cloudless sky. “Doesn’t look like it’ll rain tonight. You want to ditch the tent, spend our first night indoors?”

I looked down at the half-built house. We’d be even cozier, sheltered by the log walls, and we could fall asleep looking up at the stars through the roof beams. “I’d like that,” I told him, and leaned over to kiss him.

We’d stayed in the motel for a while, trying to decide where to live. Cal had claimed that he’d move to Seattle if that was what I wanted. But I knew he’d never be happy in a world of concrete and I’d gotten used to hearing the creak of branches and the whisper of the wind in the leaves. We also had to figure out what to do for money: Cal had spent all his savings on my fake passport and I was up to my eyeballs in debt.

But then two visitors changed everything.

The first showed up during one of our lengthy FBI debriefings. She was in her fifties, with long, ash-blonde hair and a smart suit, and told us she was Carrie Blake, head of the FBI’s New York office. She’d come all the way to Idaho to meet the people—and the dog—who’d captured Ralavich. It turned out that he’d been on their most-wanted list for a long time and things had escalated a few years ago when he’d caused chaos in New York. There was a reward for information leading to his capture and, Carrie said with a victorious smile, that we certainly qualified for that. I got the impression that this was personal, for her.

When the reward arrived, we had to double-check that we were counting the zeroes correctly. We weren’t going to have to worry about money for a very long time. We could buy some land, build a new home, pay off my debts...and the money raised other possibilities, too.

I’d bitten my lip when Cal had first suggested it. “It’s a lot of money.”

“We have a lot of money, now,” he’d countered. “And it’s what you should be doing.”