MRS. HUSKIN, TARA’S LANDLADY, had a grandson named Lance who hung out often at the house. He mowed her lawn and did light maintenance, as well as keeping her company. He was about Tara’s age, but didn’t look it. Perhaps he had some kind of developmental delay. Tara wasn’t sure. He was always smiling, nice, kind, and helpful. Eager and friendly, he invariably had a big goofy grin anytime he ran into Tara. He was polite and his attention toward her was never aggressive so he didn’t make Tara’s skin crawl. He was friendly in a nonthreatening way. Which suggested he wasn’t interested in Tara for anything besides pleasant conversation.

One afternoon, he was finishing up power washing Mrs. Huskin’s driveway and he asked Tara if she wanted to see an old cabin from a little-known explorer. He seemed so excited about it, she didn’t have the heart to say no. Knowing she was new to the area, he seemed thrilled to take her on a hike so she could see a famous town landmark. She agreed to go because she didn’t have to work, didn’t have a TV, and her library reading, which occupied most of her free time, was all caught up. In other words, she went with him because she had no reason not to go.

They left in his old pickup and he drove outside Silver Springs, away from the river and into an area with more fields. The wide open fields and pastures were often encircled by tall stands of trees, which led deeper into the woods and abounded with endless greenery. It was wild, mostly uninhabited terrain. He pulled over and parked so that they could begin a three-mile hike.

On the way back, they came to a big, clear field. Tara hesitated as Lance pulled out a gun from the backpack he’d lugged with them. Shocked to see it, Tara exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

Lance glanced at her with a smile, seemingly oblivious to her distress. “Gonna see if I can’t hit the center of that tree. See that black spot? I like to aim at it.”

Tara’s hands started sweating and her brow and face flushed with heat, making her skin feel too tight to hold her insides. She hated guns. Being this close to one, and knowing he was about to unlaunch its power and fury, she all too vividly imagined its ability to pierce through a person’s skin and bones, draining all their blood and splattering their flesh and matter everywhere… She shut her eyes tightly as images of Jerome flashed through her brain. All she could see and hear were him and his screams before the numbing shock overtook her.

Lance was unaware of her distress and didn’t hesitate for a moment to shoot off a round at the tree trunk. Tara backed up. Moving farther and farther away from it, she covered her ears, trying to block out the dreadful snap! that sounded more like an amplified roar to Tara’s ears. She detested the sound and the power and the deadliness of it. But Lance merely smiled before walking over to check the target he set for himself. Looking obviously quite pleased with his skills, he reloaded the weapon and did it again.

Tara turned around, this time fully determined to run away. She could not witness that, watching the shards of tree bark being chipped and spattered from the force of the bullets like water dispersing. That familiar sound… The blood and horror over Jerome reappeared in her mind and she couldn’t stand having to relive that ordeal again; not like this.

She leapt up and screamed before jogging off, nearly blind with fear before she ran straight into the solid, thick chest of a man. A man she never expected to find there. Her shriek and rapidly beating heart at bumping into him made her jump back. His hands wrapped around her forearms, just above her wrists.

“Tara! It’s me.”

Ryder. Looking up at his face, her entire body wilted. It was Ryder. He stood there in his uniform with his own gun at his side. His grip held her securely but it wasn’t rough or too tight. Her terror gradually receded and she slumped forward, falling down onto her flattened feet from where she’d been stretching up on her tiptoes. She nodded, gulping in short puffs of air. All she could think of was making a full retreat from the gun.

“Are you all right?” Ryder’s arms flexed as he held her steady. She gulped in another lungful of air, trying to keep the panic attack that was brewing from becoming a full-blown freak out. She nodded, swallowing the lump of fear still lodged in her throat. “Was he doing something to you?”

She shook her head, unable to find any words. Finally, she told him, “No. J-J-Just target practicing. But I don’t like—”

“Guns?” His lips twitched as he voiced her greatest fear. “Yes, I remember.”

Letting her go, he stepped back. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed them. “But he’s not allowed to do it here. Excuse me, Tara,” Ryder said in an oddly polite and formal tone as he carefully stepped around her. She turned and watched his commanding steps as he stalked towards Lance. He moved with the bearing of what she considered a typical cop manner. Authoritative. Strong. Tall. Muscled. Carrying the gun. Of course, the gun and uniform sealed it.

“Lance?”

Slowly turning around, Lance lowered the weapon before setting the safety.

“This is National Park land; you can’t shoot firearms here.”

Lance’s face turned bright red and he stammered, “I-I-I’m sure it was okay.”

Ryder shook his head. “No, not here. Got a call on it. Someone reported hearing gunshots and they got worried about it.”

“Will I get a ticket?” Lance’s eyes bugged and his shoulders dropped with visible regret.

“Nah. Not this time. Call it a warning. I trust you’ll heed it, Lance?” Ryder’s tone was stern but also gentle. He obviously knew Lance, calling him by his name. Tara thought it oddly touching to observe how easygoing and gentle he was toward Lance. He knew how vulnerable and sweet Lance was, so he did not treat him the same as other adults.

“I will, sir.” Lance nodded for emphasis, big-eyed and with total solemnity.

Ryder glanced back toward Tara. “Do you mind if I take Tara home? She looks a little under the weather. I think your shooting might have scared her.”

Lance glanced over at her and his eyes grew even bigger. “I’m sorry, Tara. I didn’t realize…”

She faked a smile. “It’s no problem, Lance. I just don’t like the loud report…” As if that explained her irrational phobia of them.

Ryder approached her and her nerves instantly became well aware of his presence, while the fluttering in her stomach kicked in to overdrive. She had to look up to meet his gaze.

“You okay with that?”

“Yes.” She nodded quickly.

Ryder smiled and led her a short distance to where his truck was parked on the side of an empty road.

“I didn’t know there was a road so close.”

“That’s why he can’t shoot here. You guys must’ve come in from the other side.”

She got into his truck and clicked her seatbelt on. He slid a glance her way.

“You’re working now?” she asked.

“Yes. But you still don’t look right. You okay?”

She nodded, clutching her hands together to shake off the lingering fear. He started the truck and pulled onto the road, and they drove in quiet for several miles. She had no idea where they were. It was very isolated with tall woods hugging both sides of the road. Finally, he asked her, “So this thing you have with guns… Is it just a general fear? Or was there an accident involving one?”

Tara licked her lips. Should she lie? Or tell the truth? Did it matter really? Tara felt confused because he was a cop. A gun-toting enemy. But… he was so nice to her. Always. Every single day, five days a week, when she saw him for lunch. He never failed to smile and was very polite, usually inquiring how her day was going. Sure, it was all just common courtesy. Sure, she knew very little about the real man inside, but there was something so sincere about him.

Not to mention how everyone she met here vouched for him. No, they gushed about him. Seemed like everyone respected and liked Ryder Kincaid.

“There was an incident.”

“Yeah? I figured as much. Do you want to talk about it? You seemed on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack.”

She stared down at her hands, gripping her fingers tightly as she compressed her knuckles. “A—a good friend of mine was shot dead.”

“I see.”

His quiet tone appealed to her and she continued. “He was… a quiet guy. The quietest person on the planet. And he was shot for nothing. A few bucks. He bled to death right in front of me. His blood was smeared all over me, on my chest, my face, in my hair even. It dried all over me, and I looked like I’d been sprayed with paint. But it wasn’t paint… it was part of him. You know?”

“Unfortunately, I do know. It happened during a robbery?”

“Yes.” Kind of, but that was the easiest way to describe it.

“And ever since then, you’ve been terrified of guns?”

“Yes. One shot had the power to annihilate him in a second… maybe even less. He was fine one moment and then he was dead. He was so young and healthy too, and then, nothing. Gone. It was a pretty graphic illustration of how deadly a gunshot is. I see them now and I can only think how easily, quickly, and indiscriminately they can snuff out a person’s life. I mean, if you took your weapon out”—she indicated the sidearm that was now resting near her—“and you pulled the trigger and happened to shoot the wrong person, that mistake, that consequence, is forever. It can be deadly. And what if… what if you’re wrong? It’s so permanent, so final. And so violent. And so easily obtainable for any idiot in the world to get.”

She let out a long breath and slumped forward, averting her eyes from the gun. “I don’t mean to imply that you’re an idiot with a gun or that you’d do anything wrong with it. I just mean… I have this general abhorrence of them.” She nearly had to set her hand over her mouth to shut herself up. For a girl who never talked to people, except of course Jerome, here she was, rambling on and on to the police officer.

“I’m sorry about your friend. But I hope you realize that police officers are well-trained on using their guns, unlike your friend out there, Lance. We’re strictly disciplined and do not go out intending to do harm. We’re simply trying to stop any harm from happening to the public and to us while enforcing the laws.”

She stared up at him and he glanced back at her with a small smile. Raising his eyebrows, he seemed to be encouraging her to speak.

“Have you ever shot someone?”

“No. Luckily. I’ve pulled it but never fired it in the line of duty. Sometimes, it can be the only prevention from getting attacked or being listened to. I understand your fear, but for me, it’s my protection. I pull people over on drugs or alcohol and never know what’s going to happen. I have no idea how they’ll react to me. I want to stop them from doing what they want to do or feel justified in doing. Some of them act so strangely, I have no idea what’s going down.” He sighed after a new command came across his unit radio while he glanced at the console mounted lap top. He responded to it as he glanced her way. “Do you mind if we swing past a boat launch? It’s just a few miles from here.”

“No.”

He took off without sirens or lights or anything. Could have been because there wasn’t a soul on the highway or in the small parking lot. One skinny boat ramp led down to a small lake where a dock stood just a few car lengths from shore. “Stay here,” he said as he got out. He approached the lone car, an old, dirty white hatchback. He circled around it a few times before he finally disappeared, heading towards the lake. The overgrown brush kept him from Tara’s view. He was gone a good fifteen minutes and Tara’s anxiety started to rise. She glanced around, but there wasn’t a soul. The stark silence and dark clouds made the land around seem morose and even later than it actually was. Without a breath of wind or a drop of rain, it was creepy quiet. Tara rechecked the car locks, and was satisfied to find them locked still.

Okay, she’d have been a terrible, awful, crappy cop. She couldn’t even wait there without nearly breaking out in hives from her nerves. How did she manage to survive on the streets? She couldn’t remember ever being so scared. Out of her element. Maybe that’s what was causing it. Maybe because she was so far out of her natural habitat in a city. Even Marsdale was a city compared to Silver Springs… This was isolated, serial killer-stalking ground to her way of thinking. Her heart skipped a beat at that thought.

Finally… at long last, Ryder’s head popped up over the small knoll from where he had disappeared. He strode quickly and with purpose across the lot, wearing his jacket with his gun hidden beneath it. She found that reassuring. Unlocking the doors, Tara released a long sigh at his presence.

He made her feel safe.

Even if he was a cop.

He got in and started the truck as he clicked his seatbelt and glanced at her. “Everything okay?” Tara asked innocently.

He nodded. “Just a couple of losers. Homeless meth-heads who decided to move here. I told them to pack up their stuff and be gone by tomorrow. I’ll stop by later and make sure.”

“Were they doing something wrong? If they’re high, can’t you arrest them?”

“They’re not high right now. They are both missing more teeth than they still have in their heads. They’re dirty, they smell, and the filth inside their tent is enough to identify them as what they are. However, they aren’t high right now and I can’t just search them without a warrant. No camping is allowed here. So that’s all I’ve got. I’d just prefer they get out and move on.”

Tara nearly burned up with heat. Dirty. Homeless. Drug-users. All of those terms referred to her over the last several years. Now, here she sat with a law enforcement officer, another one who disdained her… maybe not her specifically this time, but someone just like her. What she used to be. At least she was young and still had all her teeth. That made people treat her better than some. Had she spent more time on the streets, yeah, her smile would have suffered when her teeth began falling out. Ryder didn’t know what those people’s story was, or why they were here. She crossed her arms over her chest. Don’t comment. Let it go. It doesn’t matter.

Ryder had helped her today. He found her nearly frozen on her knees with fright over some target practice. She was grateful he didn’t make a big deal about it and offered her a ride and kindly discussed it with her. That’s it! He didn’t deserve a dressing down for merely doing his job. He had to enforce the laws, which he didn’t make, against drug use and loitering and camping and squatting. All the things she had to do to live before. All the reasons that had made some cops act rudely and mean before. Though, to be fair, not all were rude and mean. In fact, several had even tried to help by connecting her to public services and she had refused. Right then wasn’t the time to admit all that to Ryder. Her fingernails kept digging into her palm, reminding her to keep her mouth quiet.

He glanced at her. “You okay? You look stressed again.”

“I don’t think judging people is necessary or fair, especially when you don’t know how or why they ended up here, or like that.”

He shrugged and waved his hand. Obviously, he saw no significance in these people or anything wrong with how he judged them. “I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just that I run into drug users a lot. People like to come here and to other out-of-the-way spots like this to use their drugs of choice. Sometimes with benign consequences, like just trashing the place, leaving their garbage, food scraps, and drug paraphernalia, which I get to clean up. Other times, they can be dangerous and threatening. High, crazy, and unpredictable. The gun we were just talking about? Drugs are the main reason I have had to pull it out usually. The behavior I encounter can be that unexpected.”

“What do you think, really? That they should just get another job? Try to feel better?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, that isn’t why I’m out here. I go after people who violate laws, all laws, but most specifically as it involves wildlife. It’s vastly different from most police work. Sure, I run into drug use when I’m out patrolling my area of jurisdiction. I don’t often run into… say, domestic abuse because I’m out here. My job is to enforce the laws, not to make them. There are plenty of social workers and attorneys who define the nuances to those laws.”

Tara sniffed and put her hands over her face. Okay, maybe he had a good point. She looked at him from the corners of her eyes, separating her fingers just enough to see him. His mouth was tweaked up on one side.

“We might have different views on the subject, and we obviously do, but is that any reason for you to hate me? I never go beyond exactly what the law specifies; and I don’t enforce it more aggressively than necessary. I try to be fair. But then again, I’m not a social worker, Tara. I’m here to make sure that everyone can come to this park and enjoy it. So if a single mother and her two young kids pull in here to have a picnic off the dock, I think they should be able to do that without worrying about stumbling over people doing drugs along the banks here. So you see? There is more than just one side to the problem. I’m not saying all the people I arrest don’t have sad stories, or understandable reasons for how they got here. I’m just telling you, it’s not my job to fix their problems. Sometimes, the difference between helping and hurting can be a blurred line and a judgment call. I try to be fair at all times and to all people. I try to ignore their financial circumstances and skin color. I really do try. My son should be an indication of how I am, and answer your question as to whether or not I do. No, I don’t profile anyone, and I don’t treat anyone differently than anyone else. That’s all I can tell you. I just try to be fair.”

Tara had never heard a cop speak like that. He was what she had long believed inside her heart was what a cop was supposed to be. Her spirits lifted as she realized that. This was how law enforcement should work. Using fairness. She nodded and smiled softly. “Well, sometimes people in power abuse it.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. That does happen. I don’t deny it. But I don’t. Ever. Never on purpose, anyway. And if I ever caught anyone doing that, I would never let it stand.”

“I could live with that attitude.”

“I could live with yours then,” he said, sharing another smile with her.

Silence descended between them as they drove closer to the river. Boats dotted the horizon. “You patrol all that too?”

“Fishermen? Yeah.”

She shook her head. “Odd. I had no idea so many sport fishermen even existed in the world, let alone in one spot.”

“Let me guess, no fishing in your childhood?”

Her laugh nearly barked out of her. “Uh, no. Not even close.”

He cleared his throat. “I have a boat. We go fishing a lot. We love to.”

“So you patrol it and also do it?”

“Yes.” His gaze dropped to her, then skittered away. “Wyatt and I are going fishing tomorrow if you’d like to come with us. That is, if you want to try something new. Something pretty popular in this area.”

Her heart lifted with excitement. New? To experience something besides daily survival? It sounded almost decadent, even if it were just fishing. Fishing was something Tara never considered observing, let alone going out to do. Tara had never been on a boat before either. Especially on a rapidly flowing river like the Columbia. She so rarely had anything to look forward to anymore. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“We leave pretty early. Can you be ready at five?” He pulled into her driveway.

“In the morning?” Her eyes nearly popped out as she grabbed the door handle and glanced back at him.

He grinned and chuckled. “Too early? You don’t have to come, no problem.”

“No. No, I’ll come. Five it is.”

“I’ll bring you some clothes to wear. It’ll be pretty cold that early. See you then.”