The Target

by Gerri Hill

  “For being such a good sport about Sandra,” Sara said quietly.

  “Ah, hell. I like the woman. She’s got spunk.”

  Sara nodded. “Yes, she does.” Sara hesitated, wondering how to approach this woman. She took a deep breath. “Look, I wanted to tell you a little about our group. Let you know why we’re up here.”

  “Well, you’ve got quite an assortment, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m their counselor. Sort of a therapist.”

  Jaime grinned. “I know what the word means.”

  “We have a clinic in Denver. The New You,” she said. “You may have heard of it.”

  “No.”

  Sara shrugged. “Well, we’re not really mainstream. For most, they can only afford the book and video. But at the clinic, we offer hands-on counseling and group sessions, for ten weeks.”

  “The New You? What is it? Fat farm?”

  Sara bristled. “Not a fat farm. What gave you that idea?”

  Jaime shrugged. “Some in your group aren’t your typical backpackers.”

  “A lot of people with weight issues do come to us. But most of the weight problems are simply symptoms of deeper issues. Self-esteem issues, no self-confidence, difficulty relating to others, any number of things.”

  “I see.”

  “We go through ten weeks, kind of a crash course. They all live at the clinic and we provide nutritional meals. There is, of course, counseling and lessons. And I incorporate workouts in our sessions, from light weights to walking to eventually jogging. It gives them a sense of purpose, a goal. They all know that at the end of our ten weeks, we take a two-week trip, away from society, away from our discussions.”

  “Two weeks is a long time, especially for women not accustomed to it,” Jaime said.

  “Yes, it is. But we go as slow as we need to. Our sessions are over with. There’s to be no talk about it up here. I imagine most of them privately reflect on their past but after a few days on the trails, they forget. It’s hard to keep that pain with you up here, where you’re away from it, away from reminders. You find that you can do things you never thought you could. And when they get back home, they’ll have the confidence to go on with their lives.”

  Jaime nodded. “You must be good.”

  “I’m only telling you this so that you won’t ask questions of them. Especially Sandra. She’s probably the most vulnerable of the group, also the oldest. She will find it the hardest to get on with her life. But her self-confidence has grown each week. I just don’t want you to say something or ask something that will set her back.”

  “So I shouldn’t tell you that Sandra’s already told me some of this?”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “What did you say to her?” she demanded.

  “Whoa, Sarge. I didn’t say anything. I just asked—”

  “You asked? You asked what?” Sara’s eyes flashed and she leaned forward, pointing her finger at Jaime. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to join us. Especially the first few days. They’re still . . . raw.”

  “Give me a break. You underestimate her. She’s very strong-willed. Hell, I thought she was going to pass out on that climb but she kept going. And you know why? Because it was expected of her. She didn’t want to let you down. So lighten up.”

  Sara stood quickly to her feet. “Do not presume you know anything about this. We’ve worked too hard for you to . . . to disrupt this.”

  “Disrupt?”

  “Yes, disrupt. And I think perhaps in the morning, you should just be on your way.”

  Jaime watched the angry woman walk away. Hell, she should be the one upset. She’d gotten jumped on for absolutely no reason.

  “Way to go, Jaime. Got kicked out of camp on the first day,” she murmured. But damn, Sara Michaels was some kind of cute when she got angry. There was not a hint of blue in the green eyes that flashed at her. Jaime shrugged. Well, the Sarge was just going to have to get over it. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter Ten

  Sara stretched inside her sleeping bag, finally opening her eyes. It was still dark. And quiet. Her favorite time of the morning, that hour or so before daybreak. Leaning up on her elbows, she listened. Something had woken her. Then she heard it. Rustling on the rocks. She cocked her head. Perhaps someone needed an early morning bathroom break. But no, it wasn’t footsteps.

  “Shit.” She sat up and tossed the sleeping bag off. Probably a bear. Had she told everyone to wash up after dinner? Did they leave food out? In the darkness, she found the small flashlight in a side pocket of her pack and quickly unzipped her tent, flashing her light in the direction of the noise.

  She caught her breath when yellow eyes glowed in the beam of the light. Then she smiled and lowered the flashlight. Only a fox. It scampered off up the hill and she relaxed, making a mental note to remind everyone about leaving food out. A fox was no problem but it wouldn’t do to have a bear come visit.

  She looked at her watch, the illuminating hands reading only four thirty. Crawling back inside her sleeping bag to chase off the cold, she closed her eyes, hoping to grab another hour of sleep, but she was wide awake. She hardly felt rested. Last night, she’d lain awake for hours it seemed, going over her conversation with Jaime. She knew she’d probably gone overboard with the woman. Sandra seemed to have taken a liking to her and vice versa. She doubted the woman would say or do anything to upset Sandra. Not intentionally at least. But sometimes, the most innocent of statements could be taken the wrong way.

  Well, it didn’t matter. She’d asked the woman to leave. And if she had any trail etiquette whatsoever, she’d be gone before everyone was up and about.

  Sara sighed and rolled over. There was just something about the woman that she couldn’t put her finger on. She seemed nice enough, Sara supposed. Not that she’d bothered to have a normal conversation with her, but still, she seemed friendly. She doubted there were very many strangers who would willingly hang back with Sandra as she labored up the trail. And Sara hadn’t missed the few times that Jaime had offered her hand to Sandra when she’d slipped.

  “Hell, you’re an ass,” she whispered to herself out loud. The woman had done nothing wrong and all Sara had done was yell at her and demand she leave. Okay, so if she was still around at daybreak, Sara would apologize again and ask her to stay. If she wanted to, that is. Then Sara shook her head. Why would she stay? She’d come backpacking alone, she liked the solitude, she said. Why in the world would she want to hook up with a group of eleven women?

  Sara sat up again. What if she had something to do with the threats? What if the FBI was right? What if she was a target and this woman was . . . what? The assassin?

  “That’s just crazy,” she murmured. But she rolled over and faced the zippered door, eyes wide open.

  ***

  Jaime unzipped her tent and stretched her arms over her head, listening with satisfaction as her back popped. It was barely light enough for her to see the other tents and she assumed no one else was awake. Slipping a sweatshirt on over her T-shirt, she fired up her stove and put water on to boil before taking a discreet trip behind the trees. Hopefully, she could have a cup of coffee in solitude before the others were up and about. And maybe it would give her some time to think of what she was going to say to Sara Michaels. Hell, she could always just tell her the truth.

  “Bet that would go over well,” she murmured to herself.

  While her water heated, she brushed her teeth and ran wet hands through her hair. It was cold but not nearly as cold as it would be if they intended on camping above ten thousand feet. She squatted down beside her small stove, warming her hands over the boiling water. Normally, she hated instant coffee but up here coffee was coffee and she couldn’t start her day without it. She filled her cup to the brim with hot water, then walked up the hill and found a rock to sit on to watch the sun creep over the ridge. She’d seen a lot of sunrises over the years and more often than not, she’d seen them alone. But now, right at this moment as the
pink rays reflected off of the distant peaks, the tall spruce in front of her silhouetted against them, she wished someone was there to share it with her. Someone to admire the grandeur of it, the simplicity of it.

  Sara leaned against the tree, looking past Jaime to the sunrise as the mountains reflected the colors, then casually moved her eyes back to the woman. She looked so peaceful, sitting cross-legged on the rock, staring intently to the mountains. Sara couldn’t help but smile. Apparently Jaime was a kindred spirit. Watching the sunrise had become a ritual for Sara on these camping trips and she never had to worry about company before. This morning was no different. Her group of ten was still sound asleep. This stranger, however, had beaten her to it.

  Sara was about to turn and go back when Jaime spoke to her. The woman hadn’t turned around and Sara was surprised that Jaime even knew she was there.

  “You could have shared my rock, Ms. Michaels. I wouldn’t have minded.”

  “Sunrises are . . . private. I wasn’t sure you’d want company.”

  Jaime turned and tossed out the rest of her coffee. She flashed Sara a smile. “Well, it might be the only chance we get, seeing as how you’re kicking me out of camp and all.”

  Sara finally walked closer, allowing a smile to touch her face. “Yeah, about that.” She shrugged. “Seems all I do is apologize to you. But I am sorry for jumping on you like I did.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Are we about to get into another argument?”

  Sara stared at her. “Why are you here?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You obviously came up here to go hiking alone, for whatever reason. Why would you want to tag along with the eleven of us?”

  “I always like meeting new people. Don’t you?”

  Sara sighed. “What’s your name?”

  Jaime frowned. “Er, it’s Jaime. Don’t you remember?”

  “Are you intentionally trying to piss me off? You have a last name, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I see. In case you want to look me up after we leave here? Tell you what, Sarge, I’ll even write down my address and phone number. Hell, I’ll throw in my e-mail address too.”

  “Look, is it too much to ask to know a little something about you? I mean, for all I know, you could be a . . . a serial killer or something. I just think if you’re going to travel with us, it wouldn’t hurt to share a little about your life. And why the hell are you smiling?” Sara demanded.

  “A serial killer?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Okay, so if I tell you something about me, how do you know I’m not just making it up to pacify you? Then tonight, perhaps, I’ll sneak into your tent when you’re asleep and—”

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Oh, very much. Don’t you want to know what I plan to do when I’m inside your tent?” Jaime asked quietly.

  Their eyes met and even though Sara could see the amusement in Jaime’s, she still had a nearly uncontrollable desire to knock the smirk off her face. “I teach a self-defense class. Don’t try it.”

  “A woman after my own heart.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my type,” Sara said as she turned and walked quickly away.

  “Oh yeah? So who’s your type?” Jaime called.

  Sara couldn’t resist. She turned and stopped. “At this moment? Anyone but you.”

  She walked back to the tents with Jaime’s laughter following after her.

  “I may very well push her over the next cliff we come to,” she muttered to herself.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Sara gasped and jumped back as Abby materialized from behind a tree, discreetly holding toilet paper in one hand.

  “Don’t litter,” Sara said as she zipped up her tent. She wanted to throw something. Actually, she wanted to scream. She didn’t know why but the damn woman got on her nerves. And it made no sense. They’d hardly spoken. It was just that whenever they did the woman drove her nuts.

  Sara was still perturbed an hour later when they finally broke camp and headed out. The ladies were chatterboxes this morning and more of them than not were hanging back, listening to a story Jaime was telling them about a previous camping trip. Their laughter rang out on more than one occasion and Sara resisted the urge to double-time it down the trail, knowing that would at least shut them up.

  But she was being childish. Geez, was she ever being childish. She was a professional, for God’s sake. These were her people. And apparently they’d all taken a liking to this Jaime what’s-her-name. Sara should be thankful. And in all honesty, having another person on the trip who was an accomplished backpacker gave her some sense of relief. Should something happen, should something go wrong, at least Sara wouldn’t be forced to face it alone. She rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? She knew absolutely nothing about this woman other than she was an attractive, apparently likeable woman that the others had flocked to.

  Attractive? No. She was nothing but a flirt. As if Sara would be interested in looking her up after this was over with. Please.

  While they walked, Jaime pulled out a small notepad from a side pocket on her pack and began writing, nodding occasionally at what Sandra was saying. She nearly started laughing as she finished the note. She didn’t know why but she got extreme pleasure out of teasing Sara Michaels. She suspected the woman was much more at home here on the trails than back in the city, yet she hadn’t seemed to relax a bit. For her group’s sake, Jaime assumed she was trying to hold on to her I’m-the-counselor-I’m-in-charge attitude. And that was just it. These were not her friends with whom she was enjoying a relaxing hike. These were paying clients. She was responsible for them. And she was trying to lump Jaime in with them.

  Well, that won’t work. She folded the note in half and reached out and poked Celia.

  “Pass this up to the Sarge, would you?”

  Jaime grinned as she watched the note being handed from one woman to the next, finally reaching Abby’s hands who hurried to catch up with Sara. She tapped her on the shoulder then silently handed her the note.

  What the hell? Sara kept walking, unfolding the note slowly, wondering what idiot . . .

  Jaime Hutchinson. Age 34.

  Oh. That idiot. Sara’s eyes narrowed at the information that followed, including Jaime’s address, home phone number, work number, cell number and e-mail address. Slashed below that: Call me sometime, we’ll get together! I guarantee a good time!

  Sara wadded the note into a ball and tossed it on the trail.

  “Hey, don’t litter,” Abby reminded her. She picked up the crumpled piece of paper and handed it back to Sara. “Dispose of your trash properly.”

  Sara squeezed the paper in her fist, trying to ignore the rather loud chuckle coming from the back of the group.

  “What was that?” Celia whispered. “I’ve never seen her face get that red before.”

  Jaime grinned. “I asked her out.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Does Ms. Michaels . . . well, does she do that sort of thing?” Sandra asked.

  “Date?”

  “Well, date women?”

  Jaime shrugged. “I’m hoping. That’s why I asked.”

  “Well, judging by her reaction, I’d say no.”

  Jaime only smiled, keeping her eyes fixed on the back of Sara Michaels. Well, it’d be a damn shame. Then she mentally shook herself. She was supposed to be protecting her, not playing with her. Jesus, have some decorum, she told herself. She should at least pretend to be working. With that, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was following them. Nope. They were alone.

  So she fell back into step beside Sandra, her eyes scanning the horizon, not looking for would-be assassins but instead enjoying the splendor of the fall colors of the Collegiate Peaks mountain range. She nudged Sandra with her elbow.

  “Take a look at that,” she said, pointing to their left. “The mountainside looks like it was dip
ped in gold.”

  “Yes. Aspens, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Where are you from, Jaime? You’ve never said.”

  “Denver. You?”

  “Originally from Michigan—Grand Rapids. But after my divorce, I moved to Chicago.”

  Jaime nodded but didn’t ask anything else. She didn’t want to totally piss off Sara Michaels by asking questions. And really, she didn’t understand all this need for secrecy.

  A short time later they came to a stream and Jaime saw the telltale sign of hot springs as steam rose out of the cold water not thirty yards upstream from where they stood.

  She watched as Sara turned and faced the group.

  “Everyone had enough for the day?”

  “Already? We’re stopping?”

  “Well, I thought you might like to spend the afternoon soaking in the hot springs.”

  “Oh, God. We’re here?” Abby dumped her pack where she stood. “Thank you. I could easily spend the next four hours perched in the water.”

  “Thought you would.” Sara took off her own pack. “The rest of the afternoon is yours, ladies. Soak, take a nap, explore around a bit. Whatever you like. We’ll camp here.”

  “Now this is my kind of camping trip,” Jaime said. She walked underneath a large spruce and tossed down her pack. They’d only been on the trail three hours and had not yet stopped for lunch. As she expected, Sandra pulled out another smashed sandwich. She turned up her nose. “Please say that’s not tuna.”

  “Ham and cheese.”

  Jaime sat down and pulled out an apple, pausing to shine it on her shirt before taking a bite. She watched as most of the others unfolded and pitched their tents. All but Abby. She was fishing inside her pack, finally pulling out a swimsuit and waving it over her head. Suits? They were going to soak in suits? What was the fun in that?

  Sara sat inside her tent, holding the rather conservative one-piece swimsuit she’d packed. For some reason, she was hesitant to change, even when she heard the excited laughter of the others as they prepared for their first soak in a natural hot spring.