Free Mortal Fall by Christine Carbo Page A

the ski hill. Barely even ten minutes and you could be up in the Whitefish Range enjoying the wilderness. I felt an intimate connection to the wilderness surrounding me and thought of how lucky I was to have my job in the park, in spite of the recent tragedy.
    After Lara and I remarried, she no longer wanted to live in Choteau and wanted to return closer to her family, west of the Divide. She had grown up in Hamilton, a town south of Missoula in the Bitterroot Valley, so she began applying for accounting jobs around northwest Montana. Eventually, she was offered a full-time position for the hospital in Kalispell in the Flathead Valley, not too far from my hometown of Columbia Falls.
    I put in for a transfer to Region One, which included the Flathead Valley and encompassed Kalispell, Whitefish, Bigfork, and Columbia Falls. I didn’t really care for returning specifically to my hometown, but Lara wanted to accept the position in Kalispell, and I wanted to make her happy. And I had to admit: I did love the Flathead Valley.
    Then I heard the park was expanding its force, taking new hires and immediately, the Park Police position beckoned me. The salary was about the same as the warden job—nothing to brag about—but one could do a lot worse than having an office in Glacier National Park.
    My best and most memorable days were spent hiking and climbing in Glacier with the group I joined in high school. The sheer geological scale of the continent’s crown jewel brought humbling perspectives and made my adolescent worries seem trivial. Its beauty basically stunned me, and I knew I could easily make Glacier my place of work. I applied, did the extra training, and was a shoo-in with my wardening background.
    Now, looking at the Whitefish Range, where I’d also spent ample time as a teen with my climbing group, the sun spread a soothing warmth across my face and I almost took an extra few seconds just to continue standing there, but then a woman with a stroller came upon me suddenly and I had to step into the shadow of the bar’s awning to get out of the way. I opened the door and slid into the darkness. I couldsmell beer and french fries and garlic from the kitchen—maybe pickles. Most of the tables were already taken and I saw a hand go up out of the corner of my eye and noticed it was Pritchard waving to me from the bar. I shuffled over and shook his hand.
    Dr. Pritchard looked like he belonged in a GQ magazine: tall with relaxed movements, russet skin, fine features, tousled dark hair, and just the right amount of stubble on his chin and weathering around thoughtful eyes. Rumor had it that plenty of women not really all that interested in keeping a pet got one anyway just to have the chance to go in for an appointment to witness his ridiculous good looks and soothing manner first hand.
    “Tables were all taken,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind the bar.”
    “Fine by me,” I said and took a seat.
    “The pastrami is really good here,” he offered. “I already ordered. If I don’t get back to the clinic on time, I get really behind.”
    “I appreciate you meeting me. I know you’re busy.”
    “You caught me on a good day. Usually, I don’t get a chance like this to break away. There’s always some emergency, but luckily, my partner’s in today.”
    The bartender asked me what I’d like and I ordered an iced tea and took Pritchard’s recommendation and ordered the pastrami. Pritchard introduced the bartender, calling him Will. He was about my height, maybe a little taller, with a full head of dark, Brillo-like hair.
    “So.” Pritchard looked at me when Will walked away, a sadness filling his eyes. “I just can’t believe it.”
    “I know. It’s really strange and sad. I’m sorry for the loss. I know you worked with Wolfie quite a bit.”
    He nodded. “Thanks. Not as much as Sam did, but yeah.” He smiled faintly. “We spent some wild and good times in the park tracking those hardy little