Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

JESSE

S he stared out the airplane window as they made their final approach to Spokane.

God, I needed this trip.

That was an admission she hated making, too.

Sure it was a work trip, but it got her out of the lab and the office for the first time in over a year.

It also meant it would get her dad off her back and hopefully curb his harping that he wanted her to take time off.

Get him off her back for now , at least.

She expected to spend her extra time out here working, not relaxing. To her that was relaxing.

Yes, she would absolutely fib to her dad and tell him she was relaxing, if he asked. How the heck would he know if she was working, anyway? She’d already warned him she’d be out of cell phone contact for much of the time, and she didn’t have a sat phone.

Hopefully he’d be too distracted with his very pregnant wife to pay much attention to Jesse’s current activities. He could log in to their corporate scheduling system and see Jesse was out of the office and conducting field tests in Yellowstone.

Not that she’d talked to him in person that week. Which was…unusual.

Not in a bad way, though.

Josephina would likely pop soon, so his focus was rightly on her and their unborn son.

Meaning maybe Jesse could work without him interrupting her with his ideas, “suggestions”, and last-minute changes to the equipment she’d devoted the past year of her life to perfecting—the working, beta-testing prototypes of said equipment which were securely nestled in several cases in the cargo hold, along with her luggage.

Or without him wanting to have father-daughter time. Which she understood was important to him, but it also annoyed her because it took her away from her work.

Which was relaxing.

She’d picked Yellowstone for the trials because of the frequent earthquake activity. Darn near constant earthquake activity. Most of those tiny tremblors that went unnoticed by anyone except the USGS and their equipment. She also had the full blessings and cooperation of the USGS, for these tests, and had obtained all the necessary permits.

Hopefully, her new seismometers would prove viable during these small-scale tests. Her goal was to perfect an AI-based algorithm that worked in conjunction with seismology networks to improve earthquake prediction. Eventually, she hoped to deploy a network of devices all over the continent, and then the world.

No, it would never be possible to predict all quakes. But if she could perfect the algorithm and detection equipment to identify quake-prone areas, maybe even map out patterns, or potential new areas of earthquake activity, it could be a game-changer.

She also recognized—and had bounced off her therapist for confirmation—that her dad’s recently renewed helicopter parenting was likely due both to his anxiety over the impending arrival of his second child and his guilt over being a single father to Jesse for so many years.

What Jesse had never been able to drill into his loving skull was that she didn’t feel the slightest bit of resentment, or anger, or any of that other garbage toward him about the circumstances.

And she was happy she was about to become a big sister at the age of twenty-three.

She even loved her step-mother, both for herself and for how happy her dad now was. Josephina also went out of her way to get to know Jesse, and learn about neurodivergency, and bent over backward being accommodating.

It wasn’t her father’s fault Jesse’s mom died from pancreatic cancer when Jesse was ten. And it wasn’t bad parenting on his part that she spent the next several years attending elite private boarding schools, which ultimately led her to starting college several years early and earning her first doctorate by the age of nineteen.

Autism for the win, yo.

Her mom had understood Jesse, both her preternatural thirst for learning and discovery, and Jesse’s frequently aloof neurodivergent attachment style. She was okay being alone. She was fine not being smothered by attention.

She’d tried dating while in grad school, but attempts at relationships with neurotypical guys usually ended with her walking away after he felt butt-hurt because she didn’t want to be glued at the hip to him and refused to play NT guessing games about his mood, feelings, wants, and desires. She didn’t have time for petty bullshit.

Her last relationship—with a neurodivergent man two years older than her—had ended amicably when he was offered an opportunity to work in Japan and she didn’t want to pick up and move with him.

He’d understood. Did she miss him? Sure, but she’d be unhappy if she’d gone with him to Japan.

She hadn’t… loved him.

No, that wasn’t right. She hadn’t been in love with him. She loved him as a friend. The sex had been good, but good sex wasn’t a reason to uproot her life and make herself and him miserable in the process.

That would definitely lead to bad sex or, more likely, no sex, and resentment. Quickly followed by no relationship.

Better to have an amicable friendship than a horror story about an ex.

When her plane landed and she turned on her work cell, she received a flurry of notifications. It was the most recent one, from three hours earlier, that made her groan.

A voicemail from Dr. Katherine Fornier-Thomas.

“Dr. Scott, a personnel issue has come up, and we’ll have to delay your trip into the park by four days. I’m really sorry. I hope this won’t throw your schedule off too much.” She left her phone number and Jesse stepped out of the flow of foot traffic to call the woman back.

After the call connected and the standard social pleasantries were exchanged, the other woman explained. Then, “I’m really sorry about this.”

Jesse pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed, forcing herself to downshift and not react with irritation. Carefully modulating her tone, she replied, “There’s no one else who can take me? I don’t need a seismologist. I’d be fine with a park ranger, or a commercial guide familiar with the terrain. We have the GPS coordinates of the existing sensors. And I’m fine with one guide.”

“ Hmm . That’s a valid point about their qualifications, but due to current bear activity, we must insist on two experienced guides for safety. Let me make a few calls. I’ll call you back shortly.”

Jesse slipped her phone into her pocket, slung her laptop case over her shoulder, grabbed her carryon’s handle, and followed signs to the baggage claim area as she chewed on her simmering frustration over this blip in her plans.

Once she located baggage claim and checked her equipment crates to make sure they’d made the trip unscathed, she loaded everything onto a luggage cart and worked her way across the building to take her place at the end of a very long and sluggish line at the rental car counters. It looked like only two agents were working the counters, and the other two counters were closed. Jesse had reserved an SUV, even though that was overkill, because the crates were each about the side of a large suitcase. But she wanted plenty of room to stow everything.

Thirty minutes later, there were still four customers ahead of Jesse when her cell rang.

Dr. Fornier-Thomas. “Good news! I’ve lined up two guides for you.”

Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent. Thank you so much. Can you text me the information?”

“It’s already in an e-mail on the way to you.”

“I appreciate the accommodation.”

“No problem.” More necessary pleasantries followed before Jesse finally got off the phone with her. She hated talking on the phone, preferred texting and e-mails. It meant she had the words in front of her and she’d long ago trained herself not to assume “tone” in words.

And to be mindful of how her own “tone” might come across in writing, especially to neurotypicals. Her staff all knew to never assume a tone in her e-mails and texts, and to take everything at face value. Likewise, to keep their written communications with her as literal as possible.

She pulled up her work e-mail on her phone and skimmed through the inbox. The two men, Marcus Powell and Christopher Wright, were a park ranger and a scientist, although Jesse wasn’t sure who was which. With four weeks before the opening of the park’s big spring tourist season, thankfully the men could be spared for this task.

While Jesse headed up the seismology department of her father’s tech company, she was but a tiny cog in a world-wide corporation worth billions. They invested in and developed water collection and purification systems for arid regions, new agricultural methods to better make use of climate-challenged areas where farming was increasingly difficult, alternate power sources like solar and wind to provide power to remote areas, and other tech designed to help level up people’s existences.

Gudbrand Klevenson made his first fortune starting a software company with three buddies, then sold his shares several years later and bought three smaller companies Jesse’s mom pointed him toward. Sure her father was obscenely rich, and Jesse was well aware she benefitted from that privilege, but her father also had a conscience. Being raised by a welder and baker in Oslo, he’d never lost touch with his humble roots.

Over the past eighteen years, the tech his company developed had improved the lives of tens of millions of people around the world. He also scolded his fellow billionaires who committed what he called “performative charity” to avoid taxes.

When Jesse had dinner with him several weeks ago, he’d laughed when she asked why he wasn’t at a huge international conference with other tech giants.

“I wasn’t invited.” He smirked. “They don’t like me because I refuse to buy a yacht worth the annual gross national product of a small nation. And I make fun of them for being too scared to mingle with the ‘unwashed masses’.”

Jesse did her best to politely ignore the people in line with her and avoided being pulled into excruciating small-talk that she sucked at. Finally, it was her turn. Despite her growing weariness and overstimulation, she minded her tone and forced a smile.

“Hi, JessicaLynn Scott. I have a reservation for an SUV.”

The obviously harried woman typed on her keyboard. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a reservation for that name.”

Jesse forcibly held her smile in place, handed over her ID, and showed her the reservation details in an email on her phone, all while silently cursing the travel department’s new intern who’d handled booking her flights and rental. “It’s probably under our corporate account.”

The agent looked at the reservation number, typed again, and her eyebrows arched. “Ah, Ms. Gudban…datter?”

Jesse couldn’t hold back that soft growl of irritation. “That’s my middle name. Scott is my last name. Dr. JessicaLynn Scott.” She tapped her ID, which still lay on the counter. “A new intern at my company made the reservation.”

Another flurry of tapping. “Okay, we have a two-door economy for?—”

“No,” Jesse said, struggling to maintain her rapidly fraying composure. “I told them an SUV.”

The agent scowled and typed some more. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any. I see they did reserve one, but we apparently overbooked and all our available inventory has been rented.”

Jesse silently counted to three and patted her laptop case, which lay on top of her huge pile of luggage and crates. “As you can see, I need something more substantial. I’m driving to Yellowstone for work and I need a vehicle that can comfortably hold my equipment. I’m picking up more equipment here in Spokane. I’ll settle for a truck, or even a minivan. A full-sized van would do, if necessary.”

More tapping. The agent eyed the pile on Jesse’s luggage cart and tapped some more. Jesse was about to ask if the agent at the other car company’s counter might have a vehicle when she realized the woman had closed the counter and left at some point.

Dammit .

“The only vehicle I have that might meet your needs is a four-door BMW sedan. It’s a luxury ren?—”

“I’ll take it,” Jesse wearily said.

After handing her the paperwork and key fob, the agent gave Jesse quick instructions on finding the car and then called the next customer before Jesse even pushed her cart out of the way.

This is not how I wanted to start my trip.