Bitter Truth Page 9

  They slowed and turned off the main drive leading to the ranch and onto a more rugged track heading into the woods. He stopped the truck in a small clearing at the base of a tiny waterfall that cascaded down to create a creek bed. Across the water was a boulder field climbing up the side of a hill, while to their right a timber fall acted as a dam. The area in front of it was teeming with sumac, wild flowers, and small bushes with dark blue berries. Nestled in them sat a ten-foot steel cylinder on a trailer with a heavy door raised in the air by a hoist. The bear trap. It looked a lot more sophisticated than the simple culvert traps she’d seen back in Pennsylvania.

  Gleason turned the truck around—it took a five-point turn, given the trees and bushes—and parked. “Here.” He handed her a laptop and opened a video file. “You watch this while I check for scat and tracks. Don’t get out until I give the all clear.”

  At first Lucy bristled, feeling like a child being given a toy to distract her and make her stay put. But Gleason was a professional, and he was doing her a favor, plus the video…fascinating. It was from a trail camera aimed at a similar culvert trap. It must have been motion-activated, judging from the choppiness—but the animals that had activated it weren’t the bears the trap and its bait were meant to entice, but rather a lone wolf creeping into position near the trap’s open door.

  Like the trap here, this one lay in a canyon near a creek bed. The wolf easily concealed itself among the bushes at the edge of the stream—if the camera hadn’t caught it, Lucy never would have been able to track it. The footage stuttered and then began again as a large black bear ambled past, stopping almost in front of the camera. It raised its head, sniffed, circled, almost started back away from the trap but then stopped and sniffed again, shaking its snout as if torn. Then it shuffled a few steps toward the trap—and the wolf waiting in ambush—before stopping again.

  Lucy rewound the video and focused on the hillside behind the bear. She zoomed in and slowed it down, the video turning grainy but still clear enough that she saw that the wolf wasn’t alone. As the bear hesitated, she spotted three more wolves moving into position, outflanking the bear. She started the video at regular speed again. “Run,” she urged the bear. “Can’t you see it’s an ambush?”

  The bear rose up from four feet to two, snout in the air, sniffing again. This time it shook its entire body, made a snuffling grunt, and whirled to run back the way it came. But the wolves didn’t give up so easily. The one hidden near the trap quickly gave chase, followed by the others across the creek on the ridge.

  The final frame caught the silhouette of a large silver wolf alone, staring upstream. Lucy could swear it wore the same expression every field instructor she’d ever worked with had when they dissected an operation during the after-action brief, figuring out what went wrong and how to do it right next time.

  For a brief moment the wolf turned and stared directly at the camera—at her. As if it knew it was being watched. It bared its teeth, eyes gleaming with anticipation. She shuddered. She’d seen that expression before—eight months ago on the face of the dog right before it attacked her.

  Next time, you’re mine, it seemed to say. Next time, you won’t get away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nick was ashamed to admit that he was glad when he got out of the shower to find Lucy gone. He’d thought he was in great shape—he ran five days a week, did weights two, and biked on the weekends, except in the winter. But between the sitting in a cramped airplane seat for half the day and then spending the other half scrambling up and down hills, boulders, scree fields, and goat trails searching for Bill, every muscle in his body wanted nothing more than to go back to bed for another twelve hours.

  Not solely his body; his spirit was equally exhausted. They’d found nothing—none of the search teams had. The sense of failure was overwhelming. Especially as he knew he should get out there, rejoin the teams—some now into their third day—and do what he could to help keep their spirits high.

  But he just couldn’t. Lucy leaving early gave him a way to save face, to conveniently be too late to get a ride to today’s scheduled coordination session when the searchers would be given their new assignments. He slowly dressed, trying his best and failing not to scratch the bug bites that covered his arms and legs. Just because he wasn’t going out into the field didn’t mean he wouldn’t still be contributing something to the cause. He’d go to Deena, and try his best to help her through this ordeal.

  Three days of not knowing. He sank onto the bed, his socks in his hand, suddenly without the strength to put them on. Those first three days Lucy had been in the ICU, the doctors weren’t sure if she’d live or die. Her injuries, the shock, fighting off infection from the dog bites… Three days he’d waited, holding her hand that lay limp in his, watching machines do the work of living and breathing, avoiding the gaze of the nurses, unable to bear it if they gave up on her.

  He’d never felt so alone in his life. Powerless, all his training and knowledge futile in the face of mortality. Nothing to do except sit and wait and pray as hope surrendered to despair.

  Back then he’d been too drained, exhausted in the most literal sense of the word, to help himself, much less Lucy. But now, maybe, he could offer Deena the comfort of a friend who understood what she was going through.

  Finally he finished dressing, glanced at the clock to make sure the others were long gone—although the younger volunteers, a group from Lewiston and another from Boise, were rowdy and loud enough that he’d heard them leave, excited that today would be the day they would become heroes—and made his way down to the main building, going through the middle door that led to the restaurant.

  There he put together a plate from the remnants left by the hordes that had gone through the buffet like a swarm of locusts and filled a mug with steaming coffee. Judith found him as he was finishing.

  “Nick,” she said, getting her own cup of coffee and joining him. “Need a ride out to the morning search briefing? I just got back from taking the last van load, but I don’t mind.”

  “I thought I’d go over to see Deena. We got back so late last night, I feel bad I haven’t had a chance yet.”

  “Lucy has Bill’s truck, but I’ve kinda set up camp at his place—it’s closer to the action than the sheriff’s station. Want to ride out with me?”

  “Thanks, Judith. That would be great. Just let me grab my gear.” One lesson he’d learned from Lucy—always bring the basics with you when you’re in the field. Even if you expect to spend the day sipping tea and enduring long awkward silences as you wait.

  He left Judith, but instead of going out the way he’d come in, he strolled through the animal wing. Lucy didn’t like this place—he’d noticed her brief panic attack, but they had an unwritten rule not to talk about them.

  The same rule he’d tried to break last night, which had only led to a fight. No, not a fight—when he and Lucy fought, everything came out, the air was cleared, and they always ended up closer than before. What happened last night was the opposite of that. And he had no idea how to fix it. Silence hadn’t helped, talking last night had only made things worse… what was left? Lucy felt farther away than ever, and he had no idea how to reach her.

  The animals were making quiet noises as they paced their enclosures—except the sloth, who could have been stuffed for all the movement he made. The tiger moved stiffly, favoring one front leg as he leaned down to lap water from the artificial stream that ran through the front of his and the bear’s habitats. The bear was busy scratching his back, rubbing up against a thick tree trunk covered in barbed wire.

  Nick wandered over to the other side. There were two more of the large habitats, but they were empty, the water turned off, all vegetation removed, everything else scrubbed clean. Judith had said something about a circus lion dying. He pivoted to the empty aquariums that had held the snakes. They still had plates bolted along the bottom frames listing both the scientific and common names: copperhead, water moccasin, Bur
mese python, coral snake, death adder, green tree python, black mamba. He was surprised there were no spaces for rattlesnakes—he knew from what Ginny had said and the briefings yesterday that Idaho had several species.

  He continued out to the path to his cabin, grabbed his daypack, and headed back to meet Judith in the front lobby. The grand hall was eerily silent except for the rustle of the birds overhead. How lonely it must be to live here when there were no tourists around. He imagined winter, the snow piled high, nowhere to go, no one to talk to… The old hotel reminded him of the one from The Shining. Not in architectural details, but it shared that same pervasive sense of emptiness.

  Judith came bustling out of her apartment behind the reception desk, carrying her own pack. “We’ll take my work truck instead of the van, just in case I get called out on an emergency.”

  She led him to a white Excursion with JK Animal Care emblazoned on the side. He climbed into the passenger seat of the oversized SUV and craned his neck to look in the back. The cargo space had been outfitted as a mini-animal clinic, with gear packed behind glass cabinets and in storage cubbies. It reminded him of an ambulance. Everything was shiny and clean, spotless, even the tall rubber boots and extra-long black rubber gauntlets hanging from a rack beside a collection of cattle prods of various sizes.

  “Quite an operation.”

  “Thanks. Folks around here used to take care of their own livestock and pets, but our population is trending older as more and more younger people move away. A lot of these folks take better care of their animals than they do themselves.”

  “So, you probably hear and see a lot. Any thoughts on what happened to Bill?”

  She was silent as they neared the end of the paved road and turned onto a hard-packed dirt road that snaked up the mountain. “I’m not sure,” she finally answered. “I think maybe you might want to ask Deena.”

  Nick watched Judith, the way her hands easily took control of the wheel even around the steep switchbacks. Everyone out here seemed the same: in control, self-contained, ready to take on the world alone. Pioneering spirit hard at work. But Judith was in her mid-to-late fifties and she was one of the youngest full-time residents he’d met. If the younger generations kept drifting away for softer, easier lives, how much longer could that independent spirit be kept alive?

  They reached Bill and Deena’s home. Bill had shared photos before, and Nick knew it had been in Bill’s family for several generations, but he wasn’t prepared for the majestic beauty that surrounded the large log cabin with its tall windows. Breathtaking was the only adjective he could think of. Despite the lack of urban conveniences and the harsh winters, he could understand why Bill had been so excited to return home.

  Deena spotted them from where she was standing on the deck, silhouetted by the early morning sun like a whaler’s wife watching from her widow’s walk, waiting for her husband to return. She was dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting tee, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a quiet air of grace surrounded her. She raced down the steps and ran to Nick, hugging him hard. “I’m so glad to see you,” she told him. Then she nodded to Judith. “Go on in, Mom has coffee on.”

  Judith smiled, touched Deena’s arm, and walked up the stairs to the front door.

  “Can we walk?” Deena asked Nick. “I feel like I can’t breathe in there. Everyone’s so careful around me, like I’m going to break. Do I look like I’m going to break?”

  “No. You don’t. You look like you’re…ready?” He didn’t want to make assumptions, so he let his voice drift up in a question.

  She hauled in a breath and guided him onto a path that hugged the side of the mountain and looked out over the valley below. “I think I am. Is that strange? Am I giving up too soon? Lucy would say I am—you know her, she never gives up on anything. You should have seen her yesterday, diving into his case notes like they were the Rosetta Stone. But,” another deep breath, “I woke up this morning and this quiet certainty just settled over me. It’s kind of scary but kind of soothing at the same time. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” They walked through a stand of beech and aspen that opened up onto a small meadow filled with wildflowers. “And I don’t think it’s giving up. Maybe more like acceptance.”

  “Acceptance.” She tried the word on for size. Then bit her lip, nodding. “Maybe also forgiveness?”

  “For yourself or Bill?”

  “Both.” She took both his hands and turned to face him. “Nick, I think I know what he was trying to say in that text he sent Judith. I saw it a little this winter; I thought it was a combination of no sunlight and cabin fever—in Denver the winters weren’t as bad, and he had work to keep him steady. I thought he was better once he took over as sheriff and had a mission, a purpose. But…now I’m not so sure.”

  “Are you saying Bill was depressed?”

  “Maybe. I think. But then he seemed better, happy all summer. But there was this case he worked back in Denver, and last week, it was supposed to finally go to court. He was even getting ready to fly back and testify, but…” She dropped his hand and swallowed hard. “It was a kid. Her uncle had been abusing her for years—gave her to his friends to pay off gambling debts. Until finally she told. They took the case as far as they could despite there being no DNA or slam dunk evidence, but there was enough, the DA thought. With the girl’s testimony. She’s sixteen now, and so the judge granted the defense’s motion that she be treated like an adult on the witness stand. No special treatment. And last week…” Her voice died off and she looked away.

  “She killed herself?” It wasn’t a difficult guess; Nick had seen it before. One of the many reasons why he preferred to work with adults even though their trauma was just as devastating and difficult to handle; at least they had a chance. Kids…kids were tough.

  Deena balled up one hand into a fist then covered it with her other, bringing both up to her lips as if hiding her words. “Nick, what if, maybe, he’s not coming back? What if he was trying to say goodbye in that message? What if…” A tear slid across her cheekbone, into the crease of her nose. “What if he’s gone?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I told you not to call.” I step away from the others and keep my voice low, the cell pressed against my ear.

  “It’s that old man. He keeps nosing around. I almost ran into him first thing this morning, when it was barely light.”

  “Did he see anything?”

  “No. He stayed in his truck. But I think maybe he knows something, maybe knows we’re looking for it.”

  “We’ll deal with him later, after the search is over and the cops have cleared out. Until then play your part and keep a low profile.”

  “What do we do with the old man? If he comes back?”

  “You’re meant to be on vacation, remember? Act like fishermen. Ask him fishing questions. He’s senile—give him something to do, keep him talking, and he’ll forget all about where he found you or why he was there or anything he saw.”

  “I don’t like it. And you know Hank found another of them bear traps. If we aren’t careful, one of those rangers will be stumbling right into our operation. I thought that text message you had me send was meant to lead them away from here.”

  “It did. They shifted the search area east and north of you.”

  “Maybe it’s time for them to find the body? That will clear them out and we can get on with business.”

  “I’ll decide when the time is right. Just like I’ll deal with the Forest Service. You keep the others calm and out of sight. Once things blow over, we’ll be back in business.”

  “These boys are restless. You better pray it doesn’t take long.”

  “It takes as long as it takes. We’ve got a good thing going—don’t wreck it because you can’t control your men.”

  “Don’t you worry about me and my men. You best come through with your part or we’re sunk. And if we get caught, we’re taking you down with us. Just so you know.”

  My grip on
the phone tightens into a stranglehold. It’s my first time working with anyone else, but I had no choice. Doesn’t mean my so-called partners will live long enough to reap the rewards of their labors—but it does mean I need to play it safe until then. “I’ve got it handled. Don’t call again unless it’s an emergency.”

  I hang up, visions of bloodshed calming my urge to slam the phone into pieces. I imagine how I will kill each of them, how I’ll get rid of the bodies, how I’ll hide all traces of my involvement and vanish into the background—until it’s safe for me to leave with my bounty.

  A new life, new riches, new me. Just four more bodies between me and my new beginning. Well, at least four. We’ll see, maybe more.

  For the first time today, my smile doesn’t feel forced or fake. It feels like power. Hiding in plain sight, the serpent in the grass—I’ve been doing this for decades and no one’s ever caught me.

  No one ever will. But that’s not the fun of it. The fun comes from pushing things to the very edge—kind of like how I pushed Bill over that cliff—and playing with the possibility of destruction, no matter how remote. Dancing with death.

  Because if I ever am caught, imprisoned, held responsible for my actions—if everything I’ve done ever comes to light—then I’m doomed. It would be a fate worse than death, powerless at the hands of someone else. Never. I’ll end things myself before I ever let that happen.

  See? Not even death can stop me from playing my game my way. I have all the power. Just the way I like things.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Forcing her breathing to slow and swallowing against a wave of bile, Lucy watched the video of the wolves again. Gleason tapped on her window, and she startled. “You can come out now.”