by Robin Lamont
As soon as he’d gone, Colin walked up to Jude. “I apologize. Sometimes I get so paranoid, I can’t see straight. I was wrong, okay?” When she refused to look at him, he bent down to greet Finn. “What’s his name?”
“Finn.”
“Think he’s hungry?”
“He’s always hungry,” she said, her eyes brimming.
“Let’s go in and get him something to eat. Then tell me what happened. You look like hell.”
She told him everything. As daylight faded, Jude poured out the events of her outing with Cash and about shooting the coyote. “I don’t even know who I am anymore,” she said, her voice shaking. “I looked into that poor creature’s eyes before I pulled the trigger, and I had this … this picture in my mind of moving the barrel just a few feet to the right and shooting Orin Cashman instead. I could see it so clearly. But I shot the coyote. Oh God, there was so much blood.”
“He was suffering, Jude. And Cashman was going to make him suffer even more. He was going to stand on his chest until he suffocated. That’s the way the trappers do it, so they can keep the pelt intact.”
“But I took his life. I did it, not anybody else. What does that make me?”
“It makes you an investigator who had to keep your cover. You were doing your job.”
“Maybe I could have saved him.”
“How? Even if Cashman wasn’t there, from what you describe, the coyote was almost gone. His leg was probably fractured, his teeth destroyed. He wouldn’t have lived a day in freedom – and he would’ve been in terrible pain.”
“I think Finn knew what I’d done,” Jude went on. “It was so weird. When I’ve been gone for a while, he always goes nuts greeting me, he’s so happy. But when I came back to the hotel and walked in, he didn’t get up, he didn’t wag his tail. I think he feels … betrayed. And I don’t blame him.” Jude buried her head in her hands, and before she knew it was heaving with the sobs she’d kept in for hours.
“Finn loves you, Jude. He knows who you are,” Colin offered. But it only seemed to make her cry harder, so he stayed silent and waited until she was drained of emotion.
Finally, she blew her nose into the wad of tissues he’d pressed into her hand and sighed, “Guess it’s my turn to apologize.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know … running to you as though you can save me from myself.”
“Maybe I can.”
Jude looked up into his intense, dark gaze and smiled. “You’re supposed to put on your own oxygen mask before you try to help someone else.”
“I’m breathing just fine.”
“Are you?”
He drew up, slightly piqued. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, look at the way you’re living,” she said as gently as she could. “It must be hard to stay underground all the time and, you know, not be able to trust anybody.”
Colin turned away brusquely. “Look, I’m sorry about before. But I don’t think you ought to be talking about trust.” He retrieved another log to throw on the fire. “Eight years ago, you disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving just some bullshit note.”
“Are we going to go back to all that? You got my letters, didn’t you? I wrote you a bunch of times.”
“I read the letters. I want to hear you say it.”
Jude was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry. I was young and scared.”
“We were all young and scared. But I wasn’t the one to run off with somebody else,” he retorted.
Jude closed her eyes and white-knuckled the damp tissues in her hand. “Do we have to fight now?”
“Well, you never gave me a chance to fight then, so let’s do it now. At least I might understand Gordon’s particular appeal.”
“You make it sound like I ran off with another man.”
“Well, you did.”
“It wasn’t a romantic relationship. Not then, anyway,” she finished weakly.
“Oh, that came later?” Colin asked, his voice etched with sarcasm. “When you were older and not so scared?”
“Please don’t. Yes, I had an affair with Gordon, but it was brief and it’s long over. We have a professional relationship, and he’s my friend.”
“So why did you leave?”
Jude lowered her head and picked at pieces of Kleenex, rolling them into little pill-sized balls. “I think you know the answer to that. I couldn’t live the way we were living. We were getting closer and closer to the edge all the time. Our group was a mess. That last week, Seth was trying to convince us to break into the Penn State laboratory, for goodness sake.”
“You should have talked to me about that.”
“I did, but you didn’t listen. You knew what was going on for me. You knew me better than anyone ever has. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you.”
“And love wasn’t enough?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Jude flashed back. “You were barreling toward a life on the run or getting locked up, and I spent my entire childhood doing that – running from prison-like foster homes and from sour, overworked matrons at Social Services who didn’t give a crap about me. I didn’t want to run anymore, and Gordon offered the chance to stay put and do something good for animals.” She took a deep breath. “How ’bout you? Was love enough for you? You knew where to find me. Heck, Gordon probably would have given you a job. But maybe you didn’t really love me, you just loved the wide-eyed budding activist who would follow you into battle.”
Colin poked aimlessly at the fire. “I guess if love was the only thing that mattered, we’d be living in the suburbs with a couple of kids, taking them to SeaWorld and serving turkey at Thanksgiving.”
Jude snorted softly. “Nah, too extreme. How about an apartment in New York, rescuing street animals and raising little vegan activists.”
“Hey, there you go. After school I could teach them how to build incendiary devices and dodge guard dogs at a mink farm.”
“And I could take the kids on the road with me,” added Jude brightly, “Show ’em the inside workings of a slaughterhouse. Like a science project.”
Their attempt at humor danced between them, but only succeeded in underscoring the what-might-have-beens.
“Maybe not,” said Jude.
And Colin echoed, “Maybe not.”
Finally, Jude said, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Colin. If I could take it back, I would. I just didn’t know what else to do. And I had to go in the middle of the night because I was afraid if I saw you I’d lose my nerve. I was crazy about you.”
He came over to her, close enough that she could feel heat from the fire clinging to his shirt. “And now?” he asked, searching her eyes.
She evaded his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“I think you still feel something.” He put his hand on the curve of her neck, sliding it underneath the braid that lay draped across her shoulder.
“Don’t tell me what I feel,” she protested, but made no move to shake off his hand.
Jude knew exactly how she felt, she just didn’t know what to do with it. He slowly bent his head and touched her lips with his, gently. She responded in kind. As they kissed, his hands took her face, cradling it like a long lost treasure. Jude wrapped her arms around him, her fingers tracing the contours of his back muscles. She could feel her sensuality rising, seeking light as if from a deep, dark place in the ocean. When they finally separated, Colin looked directly in her eyes and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.
“Hello, Jude,” he said. At least that’s what she thought he said. She wasn’t sure. And she wasn’t sure if she said anything back. All she knew for certain was that nothing could keep her from kissing him again, more urgently this time. She let herself go completely, as if her hunger could quiet the storms that loomed in each of their lonely lives.
Some time later, underneath the tangle of musty bedcovers, they lay spooned and warm. Jude suddenly woke, the image of the trapped coyote bursting into her dreamy state. She must have startled because Colin drew up the covers protectively around her. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
She was breathing fast, waiting out her frantically beating heart.
“What is it?” asked Colin.
“I understood something today,” she murmured. “I think I’ve always known it, but today it really hit me. About us as humans on this planet. When I was with Cash, he took me to a place where you could look out and see miles and miles. There were mountains in the distance and other mountains behind them, even bigger, going on forever, and creeks and meadows, trees, and valleys. This vast expanse of earth and open space – the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen. And I thought … if not here, where are they supposed to live? Where do the wolves and coyotes and bears get to live? Don’t they get someplace?” She rolled onto her back, staring into the darkness. “In this boundless, wild territory, don’t they get somewhere to raise their babies and roll in the snow and live out their already difficult lives? When I saw the coyote, it was so clear to me that as long as our own government works for the meat industry and people compete for the biggest antlers to mount on their walls and believe that fur coats are glamorous, these animals will never have their someplace. Not even here where there’s room enough for everyone.” She turned her face to Colin and said with finality. “Humans want it all.”
As much as he would have liked to ease her heavy heart, Colin sighed in tacit agreement. He settled for kissing her forehead and pulling her closer. Jude fit her body into his, but her eyes stayed wide open still seeing the young coyote lift his head to her.
Chapter 19
The sun was rising and getting to work on the frost that blanketed the gray and white landscape. Jude sat on the steps of the cabin’s front porch, wrapped in an unzipped sleeping bag, her hands warming themselves around a cup of strong, black coffee. She watched Finn study an irate squirrel who was jabbering at him for coming too close to his tree.
The door behind her opened and Colin appeared carrying a toasted bagel and jam. He lowered himself to a spot next to her.
“How can you live here?” asked Jude. “I am freezing my ass off.”
“I could warm it for you,” he said with a grin.
“I’m sure you could,” Jude laughed. “Actually it’s my feet that are cold.”
“Put ’em here.” He handed her the bagel and took her feet in his lap. “Jesus, how many pairs of socks do you have on?”
“As many as I could find on the floor. I guess some things haven’t changed.”
“Well, for your information, this is mild for December,” he replied, rubbing her feet vigorously. “It’s going into the low thirties today.”
Jude harrumphed and took a bite of the bagel. “A regular Caribbean holiday.”
“What’s he doing?” asked Colin of Finn.
“He’s trying to make friends with that squirrel. So he can chase him.”
“Somehow I don’t think the desire is reciprocal.”
“Oh, Finn can be very charming. We were staying at this sanctuary once, and he took a real shine to one particular goat. At first, she played cool, wary as any goat would be of such a handsome, debonair and worldly fellow. But he kept coming back and after a day or two, the goat was smitten.” Jude sighed. “She followed him everywhere.”
“What is he? A Rottweiler mix?”
“Something like that. I found him in a cage at a puppy mill. He was probably headed to a rendering plant, along with some other pups too weak or sick to sell at auction.”
“He’s a lucky fellow.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
They were silent for a minute, each wondering how to hold on to the morning, knowing it couldn’t last. Jude was the first to acknowledge the inevitable and asked, “How long are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know,” said Colin. “My dad’s pretty sick and I want to be around for him, but…”
“What’s the matter with him?”
“Cancer.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
He looked at her, as if she had an answer. “I really don’t know what to do. There’s a lot of muddy water under whatever bridge still stands between my dad and me, and I don’t even think he wants me around, but you see … I was locked up when my mom passed. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”
“And you’re afraid the same thing will happen with your dad?”
“Yeah. I do have to live with myself. We’ve never been close, not that I recall anyway. But he is my father.”
“Is he close to your brother David?”
“Kind of. David liked to do all the hunting things with him. But I’m not sure my dad was ever close to anyone. Except my mom and his dogs. God, he loved those dogs. He buried them all down by the pond in the back of the house. And do you know that he’s kept all their collars? Well, not his last dog Oona. She was hit by a car. I don’t know what happened to hers. But I found the other collars tucked away in his bedside table. No photos of us as kids, no basketball trophies, no old skateboards in the garage – but he keeps the dog collars.”
“So you’ve seen your father?”
“A couple of times. This is his hunting cabin, you know.”
“And he knows you’re here?”
“Of course, he gave me the key.”
“Maybe he’s making an effort to connect with you.” Then Jude suggested gently, “Guess you could stick around.”
“There are obvious problems with that,” pointed out Colin.
“Why don’t you speak with the FBI,” she said more urgently. “You have an alibi, right?” Even knowing how naïve she sounded, she finished, “They wouldn’t arrest you for something you didn’t do.”
“Of course they would. And my alibi is Oliver. They’d try to pin the murder on me and use the prosecution as a threat to get him and Laurel to talk about the traps … can’t do that.”
“Are you protecting Oliver?”
Colin looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I just wonder about him and Eberhardt.”
“You don’t really suspect him of killing the guy. Are you nuts?”
Drawing her feet back, Jude said cautiously, “He’s very angry, Colin.”
“And for good reason.”
“Where did he get that bruise under his eye?”
Colin hesitated, then said, “From me, as a matter of fact. I was breaking up some firewood and a piece flew off and hit him in the face. You think a black eye means he’s a murderer?”
“Well, he said something pretty odd the other day when he was bringing me back to Stanton. He was going on about Wildlife Services and about Eberhardt getting what he deserved. And he said that Eberhardt was alive when someone put his leg into the trap and that he tried to claw his way out.” She waited to see how Colin would respond, and when he didn’t, pointed out, “How could Oliver possibly know that? I don’t think that gruesome fact is public knowledge.”
With eyes fixed on Finn at the edge of the trees, Colin shrugged. “I don’t know how he knew. His uncle is a cop in Saint Claire. Maybe he heard it from him … autopsy reports get around, I guess.”
“Did you know about his felony conviction? You told me that he was jailed on a misdemeanor, but before that he was charged as a juvenile for assault with a deadly weapon.”
“Who told you that?”
“Gordon.”
Colin stood up and took the last two steps down the front porch. “Glad to know Gordon is on the job,” he said curtly.
“Don’t be angry at him, Colin,” Jude pleaded. “I’m here undercover, he’s just looking out for me. And we’re trying to figure out who killed Eberhardt so you d
on’t get blamed.”
“But he’s happy enough to finger Oliver.”
“Gordon’s not accusing anyone. He just has questions, and rightly so.”
Turning back to Jude, Colin leveled his gaze at her. “Oliver did not kill Craig Eberhardt. I know him. He is keenly aware of what it would mean to the ALF if he engaged in that kind of violence.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” echoed Colin with finality.
After a moment, Jude said, “They’re going to find you soon, you know. A couple of FBI agents were at the guesthouse yesterday asking the owner about you and your father.”
Colin’s frown deepened. “What owner?”
“His name is Foster Dunne. Apparently he was an acquaintance of your father’s. I overheard the agents asking him about you.”
“Foster Dunne. His name sounds familiar. What’d he tell them?”
“He said he hardly knew you, but he was being kind of cagey and I think they were suspicious. If they did their homework, though, they’d take whatever Dunne says with a grain of salt. He’s got memory issues because of a brain injury.”
“Well, the feds already paid my dad a visit. But he’s not going to tell them anything. Besides, short term I’m leaving for a bit. I’ve got something I have to take care of.”
Jude wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “Take care of, like what? Where?” she asked with a frown.
He picked up a pebble and threw it into the trees. Finn, hoping it was evidence of a squirrel, dashed in the direction of the sound. “You really want to know?” he responded.
“I don’t think so.” But she was too curious. “Just tell me where.”
“Not sure, yet. Probably Louisiana.” He gave her a sly grin, adding, “You may want to watch yourself, Miss Undercover. As far as the feds are concerned, you and The Kinship are only a notch or two below me on the terrorist watch list. What’s your next move?”
Jude said, “I have to get to the bottom of what Wildlife Services is up to. They’re decimating wildlife in horrible ways and they’re totally unaccountable. Yesterday I learned that every trapper for Wildlife Services has to keep a field diary to record what animals they’ve caught and how often they’re checking their traps. Cashman told me that they’re instructed from the top to omit the non-target animals they catch, which, by the way, far outnumber the intended target animals. Negative publicity and all. But Craig Eberhardt didn’t pay attention to that. Apparently, he recorded everything.”