by Karen Harper
“Of course,” he went on, “you’ll study and report on any unusual flora and fauna you see, identify and evaluate any animal tracks—some we have intentionally set up for you. But today your real focus needs to be on how people, intruders in the wild, reveal themselves in your area. Yeah, Steve. Question?” he asked a guy from Canada who was an eager beaver—which reminded him they had even placed some beaver tracks and old fishing lures in the three areas near the stream that cut through the property.
“Is it okay to take notes of what we observe, or do you want us to just use recall and not write the stuff down for discussions?”
“You need to train yourself to observe and later recall without notes. The truth is, for now whatever works for you is what you should do. But stopping to fish out paper and write distracts your awareness and senses you must use in the wilds. If Ryker had this assignment, he’d have his camera ready, though not the one he uses for the show.”
Several people turned to look at Ryker. He didn’t even realize Quinn had just referred to him, because he was in deep—and apparently heated—whispered conversation with that woman again. Damn, he wished Val weren’t such a distraction, but he didn’t want to bar her from the action and upset Ryker. And besides, this was a rare appearance for her, and he’d invited Alex.
“So,” Quinn went on, “in other words, to each his own, but pay close attention to your surroundings. Anybody ever read the Sherlock Holmes books? Clues, clues, clues, then, ah...instructions—I mean, deductions.”
It occurred to him that having Alex here today was distracting him in a good way, while Val was just a pain. He’d admitted to himself and to Sam and Mary—Josh had overheard, too—that he wanted Alex to be safe in her new environs. He tried not to frown, recalling the photos she’d given him a few minutes ago of the footprints and scratch marks outside her bedroom window.
“So Ryker is filming us for the show today?” Jason, a guy from North Dakota, called out.
“He is, but try to ignore him so it doesn’t look like you’re playing to the camera. There may be individual interview time later, but today, stick to your task. Tonight after dinner we’ll discuss everything you observed and learned.”
He went on to explain how they had intentionally left things like candy bar wrappers, snags of cloth, pieces of tissues and cigarette butts behind to be collected and studied.
“In our discussions,” he said, “I don’t want to hear ‘I found a cigarette butt by the trail.’ I want to hear if it was filtered, if it had lipstick on it and, if so, what color? Did the smoker grind it out on the ground? Angrily? Carelessly? Do the human tracks look like a woman’s? Is she in a hurry? Are her footsteps lagging? Does she limp? What direction did she go?”
“Like info for possible search and rescue?” one of the Denver ladies asked.
“Absolutely,” Quinn said, turning toward her. “I’ve worked as an adviser on several SAR teams. By the way, Alaskan SAR teams often have a veterinarian tech consultant on board, especially in case the search dogs or sled dogs are injured.”
He realized that the vet tech reference was a non sequitur, but no one seemed to notice—except Alex. He darted a glance at her, which he’d been trying not to do again. Her eyes had widened at that. She smiled, then bit her lower lip. He fought not to smile back, not to keep staring at her.
“Well, time to get going,” he announced. “It will be a busy and intense afternoon.”
* * *
Alex knew Val didn’t like any of this, but she was surprised when she opted to stay behind. Alex could tell Ryker was both annoyed and embarrassed. Hadn’t that woman ever learned you’d catch more flies with honey than with vinegar? If she wanted Ryker, she had to meet him at least partway. And she hardly looked one bit ready for a hike, clutching that big fashion purse like that.
Alex saw Ryker arguing with Val again, pointing a finger in her face, then turning away and heading out, his camera on one shoulder and a backpack on the other. Even snazzy-looking Brent Bayer had a backpack. Mary and Sam went out with everyone; Alex thought she was looking good today, and Sam had a real spring in his step. Josh, with a knife in a sheath on his belt, was going the wrong way back toward the camp with a huge plastic roll of what looked like yellow police tape, so he’d evidently been cordoning off the individual search areas. She’d seen him grip the roll by its plastic handle, then pull the stuff out with his other hand. He certainly was a jack-of-all-trades around here and at the lodge, always in the background somehow.
She followed Quinn but gave him some space, as did Brent Bayer.
“So you’re not a paying guest?” he asked her with a smile that flaunted teeth so perfect they had to be artificial. He wore glasses that went lighter or darker depending on the sunlight.
“Just a friend along to observe.”
“Actually, Ginger mentioned you. Glad you’re supportive of the show. The sky’s the limit with it if everyone pulls together. It’s doing well, and we don’t want anyone to rock the boat. Speaking of which, I’d like to go out in a boat on the lake sometime,” he said, gesturing in its direction. “You know, take a look at that lethal waterfall that buried the little town years ago. Mary Spruce was telling me about that, and we should work it into a segment on the show, though she doesn’t agree.”
“Then I’d go with her feelings. Losing ones you love is so hard and never really goes away, and that should be honored.”
“But history is fascinating, and people have a right to know.”
She could see her reflection in his dark glasses when he turned to look at her again. He went on, “Mary is very protective of this area and the people. But she and Sam, as secondary characters, are very popular with the show’s audience, even though they don’t appear as much as Quinn. But the haunted elements—I hear there are ghosts afoot at night—might appeal to a bigger audience, too.”
She hesitated to tell him about the night cries she and Quinn had heard. Maybe Quinn had told him, but he didn’t need to know the two of them had been out all night in the woods.
They all stopped as Quinn started directing everyone to their areas. Sam and Mary gestured to people who hesitated, pointing them in the right directions. Individuals started to spread out from this point into wedges of areas like the spokes of a wheel.
Brent Bayer turned to her again and said, “Be sure and watch the segments of the programs that show the advanced survival classes. These beginner students always seem like bumblers at first, but our demographics show most of our audience relates more to them. See you later. I’m just going to drop back and observe, too.”
Mary suddenly appeared on the trail where Alex followed Quinn. She saw Ryker dart off, evidently ready to film in different areas.
“That man,” she told Alex, rolling her eyes toward the now-distant Brent. “A lawyer, yes, but Ryker and Quinn call him a fixer, too.”
“So I heard. But here to fix what?”
Mary shrugged and shook her head. Alex almost asked her if she really did agree on including some of the local lore of the tragic loss of life under the lake, but this wasn’t the place or time. Alex noted Mary didn’t wear her bear claw necklace, but the deep forest was hardly the place for it.
“Wish he could fix how I feel. I’m gonna throw up my lunch,” Mary said. “Don’t know why they call this morning sickness. It’s all-day sickness, if you ask me. Baby making and baby growing, a joy but tough, too. But, don’t mean to complain about something I’ve wanted real bad for so long. See you later,” she added and turned away to disappear down a side path.
Keeping about a twenty-foot distance from Quinn, Alex watched him work. He was good with people, helpful but firm. He asked more questions, refusing to give them the answers. Sam did the same. Ryker reappeared, came and went, occasionally darting down a side path, filming something or someone. When Quinn sometimes looked back at her, her heart thudded and not from exe
rtion. He nodded and went back to business.
She tried to observe as he had said, but she ended up studying people rather than things on the ground. How different they were. Even among the three women from Denver, there was a leader, a tentative person and someone who really didn’t want to be here.
Later Sam came up to her. He looked ahead and saw Quinn was in intense conversation with a student, so maybe he’d actually wanted to talk to him. “You seen Mary lately?” he asked. “I’m scared if she throws up out here she’ll be too tired to keep going. Josh is back at the lodge, but I haven’t seen her and don’t want to head all the way back to look. Got to help keep an eye on our students.”
“I saw her about fifteen minutes ago on the main path—back a ways,” she told him. “She did say she didn’t feel very good before we separated. I know where she cut off. Probably went to help someone in their area. Tell Quinn I’m just going back on this main path to where she cut off to call for her.”
He frowned. “Such good news about a baby, but not if it—it makes her sick and weak. Okay, I’ll tell Quinn you’re coming right back with or without Mary.”
Alex was glad to help. She had the feeling that Sam, even Mary, were wary of her and she’d like to be in their good graces. Next to Val, she should look pretty good to them, since she’d never cause Quinn any problems about doing his job and living here, though she’d pulled him away from the program to look for Spenser that one night.
* * *
Alex backtracked to the spot where she’d seen Mary cut off. Maybe she even headed toward the compound. Alex intended only to call for her, but she wondered if there would be a trail to follow.
She took only ten strides in the direction Mary had gone, cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Mary. Mary! Are you all right?”
She thought she heard a murmur, but then the wind was in the trees, and she’d heard a stream that fed the lake was back this way. They had said the stream was near the only rocky outcrop in the vicinity. Quinn had warned the students to watch their footing near there, since several of the roped-off areas were in that direction.
“Mary! It’s Alex! Sam’s looking for you!”
Yes, she did hear a murmur, or maybe even a woman’s voice. What if Mary had gotten sick or was too weak and needed help? But then, could that sound have been the wind in the trees or the stream itself?
She would just peer around what appeared to be a natural bend in the narrow path ahead. The ground had turned from soil to stone here and was on the rise. If she saw nothing, she’d head back to Quinn or find Sam again. This was the general direction back toward base camp so perhaps Mary had headed there and then felt even more ill. Certainly, knowing this area as she likely did, Mary Spruce would never lose her way.
Alex peered carefully around what she recognized as a massive cedar tree, like the ones Quinn had pointed out to her before. Her feet crushed the brown-blue berries and needles. She spotted that dratted devil’s club plant and edged around it, too. Like Mary, it seemed she had found a shortcut back to the camp. She could see the outcrop of rocky footing rising a bit more in this direction.
At least if Quinn got upset she’d gone off on her own, she’d tell him she could actually see the top of the stockade fence and part of the dining hall roof from here, so she was almost back to his property. She parted two low-hanging cedar boughs and carefully shuffled to the brow of rock about fifteen feet above the crooked stream.
She looked down and gasped. Though partly screened by foliage below, a woman—it must be Mary—was lying beside the stream, maybe throwing up into it.
Or maybe Mary was unconscious. Alex could only see her feet from here, one arm flung out and two sprawled legs not moving. What if she was going to miscarry? It was her first trimester—what if she was carrying twins? What if...
She had to get to Mary, help her. Alex called her name, then looked for a way to get down to her. People must use that path below lined with bushes. As she started carefully down, she held on to their limbs. Some of them batted at her in the breeze, but she kept carefully going, around a turn, down again. There seemed to be natural footholds here, and she could picture Quinn’s campers going up or down this way. It seemed like miles but it wasn’t far at all.
On the rocky ledge by the stream, Alex rushed the few feet to Mary and bent over her. The stream gurgled, as if it were retching, too. Dear God, smears of crimson. Blood?
Alex gave a little cry as if she’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t Mary! The legs—the clothes...
The woman lay sprawled at the edge of the water with her neck at an odd angle, which made her head and hair dangle down the bank of the stream so she hadn’t seen this was not a redhead at first.
This was not Mary, but Val!
Unseeing, the woman stared down at the rushing water. Her kinky blond hair was mud-and blood-streaked. Claw marks had mostly shredded her shirt. Oh, she’d made a crude necklace of the bear bells she bought earlier today, and they hung on a string, tipped toward her bloody chin. Her throat and shoulders were deeply scratched like the wall outside Alex’s room at the lodge.
So Val had decided to come out, after all, at least partway. Had she fallen or a bear dragged her and mauled her? Had she fought back? Had she screamed for help?
Alex knew better than to touch her again.
“Val? Val!”
But it was no use. Dead. Definitely dead.
17
Alex scrambled up the way she’d come down and ran for Quinn, for Sam, Mary—anyone. How could Quinn have been so very wrong about it being safe from bears here?
Gasping for breath on the upper level, she flung herself past the massive cedar tree and rushed toward the main path. She saw Ryker at the edge of the first cordoned-off area, filming.
No, don’t tell him yet...he would rush there...see Val like that. And they’d just had an argument, so that was his last memory of her.
Mary...where had she disappeared to? Back at the camp where Josh had gone?
She heard Quinn’s voice before she saw him. He was talking to one of the Denver women, the one Alex thought didn’t want to be here. She knew not to panic everyone, not scream out the nightmare she had seen. Poor Val, city girl, not wanting to even come out this far into the forest. Why had she? And alone when she’d clearly said she wasn’t leaving the lodge?
Alex stopped at the edge of this cordoned-off area and gestured madly to Quinn. He raised his head, said something to the woman and strode toward Alex, pulling her farther away.
For one moment, she was not sure how to say it.
“Quinn, Val came out of the compound. I think she fell—was pushed, I don’t know. Something got her. I think she’s dead, by the stream at the bottom of that little cliff.”
“Take me!” He held her arm tight, almost dragging her down the path.
They walked, then ran. “It was the direction I saw Mary go,” Alex told him. “Sam was looking for her—for Mary—and I saw where she went. I said I’d get her.
“That way!” she cried, pointing. “I climbed down on a narrow path beyond this big cedar by the stream.”
He moved ahead of her, carefully descending on the narrow, crooked path, and she followed. She wished this was a nightmare like she’d had again last night. It had felt real, too, that she was the one who had made blurred footprints; she was the one with long fingernails, clawing at the lodge to get in, to find herself, to find Allie.
He stopped when they reached the scene and threw out an arm to hold her back. Val’s sprawled body still lay on the edge of the stream. He bent to feel her neck for a pulse. He had blood on his hand when he stood.
“Yes, she’s dead. Stay back,” he told her. He looked stony-faced, though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and a deep frown furrowed his brow. He bent quickly to wash the blood off in the stream. “There are probably no footprints on
this rock, but we might find some sign later. She could have slipped from above, so we’ll look up there, too, when the investigators come.”
“The police, clear from Anchorage?”
“State troopers and maybe the Alaska Bureau of Investigation. I swear, no bears have been around here lately,” he muttered as he bent closer to Val, “but then the stream could lure one.”
How stoic and brave Quinn was, she thought, for, as a child, he’d found his father and dog this way—bloody, dead.
His voice broke. “But I swear, a bear no more did that than put those claw marks outside your bedroom. She could have decided to come out to join us and, unused to the area, fell. Or someone was with her when she slipped—or she was pushed. I see her big purse is down by the stream a ways, so she wasn’t killed for it.”
“Yes—yes, that’s hers, but things could have been taken out.”
“We won’t touch it, or her again. Alex,” he said, gripping both her arms, “I’ll stay with her. You carefully climb up again. Go get Sam and tell him we need more of that flagging tape we use to cordon off this scene. Only tell him, maybe Mary if you see her, not Ryker yet. If you see Brent, tell him since he’s a lawyer. Do you have your cell phone on you, because I didn’t bring mine.”
“Yes. Yes, it’s in my backpack.”
“Let me use it to call the state troopers if it connects from down here.” He helped her fish it out of her backpack and tried it, telling her, “Good! The call area reaches here. We don’t have counties in Alaska and no police per se—just state troopers.”
Alex climbed up to the forest floor, then ran back toward the main path to tell others about Val. She was shocked to see Val had come out into the forest and Quinn had said a bear attack hadn’t happened here. If she hadn’t just fallen, that meant some human animal had killed her.
* * *
Only Quinn kept chaos away, even though he yelled at her not to climb down to the stream again. Sam came, shouting down to confer with Quinn, then went away to tell the students there had been a fatal accident, that it did not concern one of their fellow students nor the staff. They were to return to the camp dining hall because the state troopers were coming from Anchorage to investigate the scene.