*
Sam hadn’t been to Colorado in years, not since a ski trip in college, and was disappointed she couldn’t see the mountains as anything more than hulking shadows as they drove west into the darkness. Instead, she stargazed a bit, surprised at how close the night sky became when you were a mile up in the air. It was a moonless night, and clear as a bell, so she could easily see the stars as they wound their way into the foothills. “It is beautiful here.”
“It is. Different than Tennessee. This land gets in your conscience, in your being, and you can’t escape it. That’s why I need to live in the mountains. The air is clearer, the whole world feels different. I wouldn’t mind moving back here one day.”
She let that go. Only a few months before she hadn’t been able to see a life for herself outside of Nashville, where she’d relive the horror of losing her family over and over daily, her penance for surviving. Xander had already forced her from her comfort zone once. Of course, he might not want her with him when he moved. They hadn’t done a lot of talking about where their relationship was headed. Which suited Sam just fine. She didn’t like the idea of having to define herself right now. She was in transition, she knew that, and everything in her sphere was, as well. Maybe she and Xander would talk about it, but one day. Not now. Not with everything going on.
“You’ll have to show me all your favorite places,” she replied, and he shot her a smile. Enough said.
“We have a ways, right?”
“About two hours. You need a nap?”
“No. I’m going to check in with Fletcher, let him know what I found out on the plane. I’ll keep it on speaker so you can hear everything. And you can share what you know, too. Save us time so we don’t have to repeat it.”
“Go for it. I already gave Fletcher some info to work with, I’ll be interested to hear if he’s made any headway.”
She dialed Fletcher’s number, and he answered on the first ring.
“Did Xander find you?”
“He did. Thanks for telling him, Fletch. Made my life easier.”
“Well, that’s my goal. Do you have anything for me?”
“I do. Loa Ledbetter lived a fascinating life. The book talks about some of the places she’s gone native to research, but her particular focus was on spending a year with a pseudomilitia group in Montana who were convinced the world was about to experience an economic collapse and were preparing for that inevitability. The book is rather dry reading, there’s a lot of information about food storage and preparation, weapons, setting guard duty and activity rosters. How to grow food, preserve it, find water, shelter, the works. If there is a socioeconomic collapse, these are the people to be with. But what was interesting was a big run-in she had with a family who joined the group toward the end of her stay. They found out what she was up to, that she was taking extensive notes on the group, and went to the elders to complain about her. They raised enough of a stink that she had to come clean about her motives. Suffice it to say the group kicked her out, rather uncordially, and there’s been some bad blood ever since.”
“Okay. Where’s the group?”
“In the book, they’re in the mountains outside of Billings, Montana. But that’s not necessarily the right name, or place. After they kicked her out she assumes they changed locations—having someone from the outside aware of their entire world is exactly what they were trying to avoid. When she wrote the book they sued, and the publisher dropped her. She went ahead and self-pubbed it, just for her own personal use, but to be safe she changed several details to protect their identities. They must have made some pretty serious threats to divert her from her course. She doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who’s easily dissuaded.”
Xander had gone stiff in the seat beside her.
“They aren’t in Montana,” he said.
“What? How do you know?” Fletcher asked.
“Because I know exactly what group she wrote about. My God, I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner. They’re here in Colorado. Up near Grand Junction. I knew one of the members.”
“Who is he?”
“Knew. Past tense. He’s dead. Taken out by a roadside bomb in Kirkuk. I haven’t kept tabs on the group since, but he was an acquaintance, of sorts. Hung out with some people I hung out with, in the past, of course. Wow. It is a small world, isn’t it?”
Fletcher’s voice had an edge of excitement to it. “These people possibly pissed off enough about the book to stage an attack on the Metro, and take out Dr. Ledbetter in the process?”
“I don’t know, Fletcher. The FBI will probably have them on their radar—they call themselves the Mountain Blue and Gray. They don’t have an agenda, so to speak, and they’ve never been violent, are very self-contained, but I wouldn’t want to roll up on them unannounced.”