by Robin Lamont
“What are you getting at?”
“It would be interesting to see what’s in that diary. Maybe it would even point to someone who wanted him silenced.”
“If that’s so, it’ll be long gone by now.”
“Maybe not. Cash told me that Eberhardt got in trouble with his superiors because of the diary, so I don’t think he’d just leave it lying around.”
“Well, some notebook is not going to take down the big targets you have in mind.”
“Livin’ on dreams,” she offered with a hopeful smile. “Sometimes if you grab hold of the end of the string and keep tugging, the whole thing unravels.”
“Sure,” said Colin dubiously. “Let me ask you something. Does Gordon know you’re here? With me?”
Jude averted her gaze by way of an answer and to her surprise, Colin began to sing softly, “She stumbles back into the shadows, where their darkest secrets dwell. And into my waiting arms, and the love we knew so well.”
She vaguely recognized the song – one they’d listened to years before. She couldn’t remember the rest of the verse, but knew she didn’t want to hear it. “I have to get back,” she said. “Dunne is going to wonder if I’ve skipped out on him without paying.”
“So that’s it, then?” When she didn’t answer, Colin yielded to the reality that neither one of them could stay where they were for long. He took a deep breath and said. “Alright. I’ll let Oliver know. But he won’t be here for an hour or so. Put on some more socks and let’s take Finn for a walk.”
They stepped single file along a faintly-marked deer path, Finn galloping ahead. With a crust of snow covering rocks and exposed roots, Jude had to watch where she put her feet rather than enjoying the scenery. But it kept her so present that each of her senses was finely tuned. She felt the breeze cool her where it met the tiny beads of sweat moistening her forehead. Each sound from a snapping twig rang clear, the crunch of their footsteps set a natural rhythm, and the dappled light shimmered in unexpected pockets of the woods. This moment right here, she thought, with Colin and Finn, this moment might be as close to domestic bliss as I ever get.
Colin stopped to adjust his backpack into a more comfortable position. She’d teased him about what could possibly be inside to make it so heavy, wondering why he brought it in the first place. He’d tossed off something about old Boy Scout habits and being prepared for anything in the Idaho woods.
“How’re you doing?” he asked.
“Good.”
He stepped toward her and gave her a long hug. His hair and denim jacket smelled of smoke and pine. “Want to turn back?” he asked.
It was hard to miss the deeper meaning behind his question, and she answered truthfully. “Not just yet. A little further.”
So they trekked on. At one point, Jude spotted a glistening sheen of water through the trees. “What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s called Freedom Lake,” replied Colin. “When we were little, my dad would take us swimming and boating there. And when I got older, I’d come up by myself and sit and think. Once I saw a bear about thirty feet from me and nearly broke my neck trying to get away. I’d bet that old bear was just laughing at me.”
Suddenly an unearthly scream pierced the air. It froze Jude mid-step, chilling her to the bone. The fur on the back of Finn’s neck rose straight up as if electrified. The sound was the scream of a woman in agony and it came again, starting like the caw of a crow then rising to a high-pitched, throaty shriek that echoed for what seemed to be miles.
“Stay here,” said Colin in a low voice. He started running in the direction of the sound.
Jude hesitated only a second. If someone was being attacked, she couldn’t just stand by. Colin would need help. She started after him and a few seconds later saw him about twenty yards off the path. When she got close he put out his hands.
“It’s a fox,” he said. “The female makes that cry, it’s called the vixen’s scream.”
“Are you certain?” breathed Jude, her eyes wide.
His mouth taut with anger, he stepped aside to reveal the fox, teeth bared, frantically trying to shake herself loose from a leg hold trap. The chain to which it was attached clanked and shook, but was firmly embedded in the frozen ground with a metal spike.
Jude stumbled backwards and did something rare for her – she panicked. Images of her own participation in the death of the coyote clouded good sense, and unable to help herself, she let out a small cry. Finn began barking and the fox redoubled her efforts to flee, spattering blood from the gouges in her foot.
Colin took charge. He threw his backpack to the ground and told Jude, “Get him away from here, then come back and help me.”
Jude stood rooted until he grasped her shoulders. “Go!” he commanded. “He’s scaring her and making it worse.”
Shaking off her stupor, Jude unclipped a leash from around her waist and snapped it on to Finn’s collar. She led him away from the fox and tied him to the trunk of a young tree. She returned to Colin’s side.
He was stripping a tree limb with a hunting knife. His backpack was open next to him, and Jude could see wire cutters and a small crowbar inside. Deftly, he cut off the smaller branches and twigs until he had a six-foot stick with a wide, two-pronged end. He tested its strength on the ground and found it acceptable. Meanwhile, the fox had crouched low, watching him, eyes glaring.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said quietly, removing his jacket. “I’m going to put this over her head. And then I’m going to hold her down while you get the trap open.”
“Me?” whispered Jude.
“Yes. She’s terrified, and she’ll try to fight us. I have to keep her still to have any chance.”
“I … I don’t know how to open the trap.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” said Colin.
As they slowly approached, Jude finally got a good look at the fox. She was a stunningly beautiful creature with auburn fur nearly the shade of Jude’s hair. Her lower legs were painted black and she had a streak of the same ebony down her bushy tail. Her amber eyes shone feral and aware, and she was ready to battle for her life. As Colin neared, she pulled back, poised to attack. Then she let loose the same eerily human screech.
“We have to work fast,” said Colin. “If there are trappers around, they’ll be on their way.”
With his jacket in one hand and the stick in the other, he inched toward her. “Easy now, easy now. We’re going to try and get you out of here, beauty.” Speaking to the fox in low, calm tones, he stole closer. When he was within a few feet, he tossed his jacket forward, covering her face. She shook it off and barked a short warning cry. Colin tried again. And again, the fox escaped from under his jacket.
The third time, Colin rushed forward as the jacket landed, and he thrust the wide prongs of the stick on either side of the vixen’s neck, pinning her to the ground. She struggled, but he held her firm. “Help me get the trap exposed,” he quickly instructed Jude. “And watch her teeth.”
Cloaked in darkness, the fox was more subdued, but it still took both of them to push her onto her side. At only thirty-five pounds, she was incredibly strong.
“Okay, do you see the two levers on either side of the jaws?” asked Colin. “Press down on them hard, and for God’s sake don’t get your fingers in the middle.”
Jude knelt and leaned on the three-inch levers. They didn’t budge. She tried again, pushing as hard as she could and nothing happened. “They’re not … moving,” she panted.
“Use your feet,” said Colin, his breath coming heavy with the effort of holding the vixen down.
Jude stood and maneuvered the toes of her boots on each of the levers. They were slick with snow and blood, and she’d no sooner get firm footing on one, when the other would slip off.
“Get it done,” said Colin, leaving no room for mere effor
t.
Taking a deep breath and balancing herself, Jude got an inch more boot on each lever and willed her body weight to press down.
The jaws snapped open, and just like that, the fox had her foot out. Colin held on.
“Good girl,” he said. Jude wasn’t sure which one of them he meant. “Now go stand over there. I’m going to let her up and we don’t quite know what’s she’s going to do.”
When Jude was a safe distance, Colin stepped back, pulling away the stick and whipping off his jacket in one motion. The fox seemed stunned. She drew her injured foot into her body and sat on her haunches, unmoving. Colin took a careful step back. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “You’re okay, now. Go find your mate. Go on, have a life now, my beauty.”
The vixen lifted her nose into the air and as if she’d understood every word he said, began to limp away. As Colin and Jude stood transfixed, she stopped and looked back at them over her shoulder. Jude could have sworn that she dipped her head in gratitude before she disappeared, blending into the colors and silence of the wintry landscape.
Jude waited with Finn while Colin “finished up.” For him it meant destroying the leg hold trap once and for all, then sweeping away their boot tracks with a pine branch. He backed up to the spot where they had left the path and covered their place of entry with a few more pieces of downed wood. They walked farther along the trail for a while, then zig-zagged back to the McIntyre cabin.
While they waited on the porch for Oliver, Jude finally asked, “Do you think she’ll live?”
“I think so. She seemed to be walking okay.”
Jude clasped Colin’s hand. “Thank you. That was incredible, to be able to release her. I can’t help but feel like God … fate, whatever, put her in my life today to give me another chance, after the coyote and all.”
Colin nodded. “It’s tangible, you know? We can’t save them all, but we can save one. Today, we saved one.”
“What now?”
“Where there’s one trap, there’ll be others. Oliver and I will go back tonight and look.”
“I mean long term. What about us?”
The crunch of tires on gravel told them that her leave-taking was imminent. Colin tightened his grip on her hand. “It’s up to you.”
“Don’t put this all on me,” she cried. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is. We’ll save animals and figure it out as we go. Come with me.”
Jude didn’t respond. Oliver had driven up to the cabin and he had bad news.
Chapter 20
Two FBI agents had come into the bookstore as Oliver was opening up. They duly noted his criminal record and proceeded to question him about when he’d moved to Stanton, where he was living, and how long he’d been working at the store. And they wanted to know about Colin McIntyre.
“I told them I’d met you once in Seattle about four years ago, but that was it.”
“Did they hang around?” asked Colin.
“Only long enough to threaten me with a grand jury subpoena if I didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear.”
Colin appeared lost in thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, take Jude back to Stanton, and then lie low for a while. I’m switching phones, but don’t contact me until you’ve done the same. And get word to Laurel.”
In the gloomy confinement of the Taurus on the ride back, Oliver made it clear with his body language that he blamed Jude for bringing law enforcement down on their heads. She refused to be pulled into a fight and withdrew, only to have the lyrics to the song Colin sang come back to her with miserable clarity. Written by a poetic rocker they used to listen to, it was a haunting acoustic track that seemed to play on an endless loop in her mind.
She stumbles back into the shadows where our darkest secrets dwell
Into my waiting arms, and the love we knew so well
They will come after, they always do, keepin’ us on the run
You and me together, girl, we’ll finish what we’ve begun
The refrain was still echoing when she and Finn returned to the guesthouse and made a beeline for their room. Safe behind the closed door, Jude finally checked her messages and found two from CJ, the last one worried that neither he nor Gordon had heard from her. But she couldn’t convince her fingers to hit the call button. Instead, she kicked off her boots and collapsed on the bed. Rolling onto her side, Jude clutched a pillow to her chest in an attempt to ride out the turbulence inside.
Everything she’d worked for felt tenuous – her reputation as an investigator, her connection to Gordon and the others at The Kinship, even her sense of mission. She had built something solid and valuable for herself in D.C. She’d even gotten used to living alone. Now she could feel it slipping away. Last night, she’d had a taste of skin touching skin, the luxury of feeling him next to her through the night, and the ease in knowing each other so well. There was a piece of her that wanted to hang onto that so bad it stabbed at her belly like a cramp. Not the least of it was the cold, cast iron truth that despite her efforts, she would never see in her lifetime an end to the ingrained systems of animal cruelty. Colin offered an answer to that. Jude could still feel her fingers numb with cold, pressing down on the trap’s levers, the sheen of sweat underneath her shirt from the exertion. And the release! Watching the fox escape was exhilarating. It lifted her, and Jude still felt as though she was breathing air more pure than she ever had.
But how could staying together possibly work? An impermanent life, moving all the time, distrusting anyone new and probably some old friends as well. And what would they accomplish? Defeat a few traps, save some animals who might die of their injuries anyway? Free some mink who had no experience of surviving in the wild? And the certain betrayal of Gordon – all for the tangible assurance of knowing that specific animals had been liberated.
Jude lay paralyzed, her thoughts changing, shifting, churning up silt and clouding her vision. All she wanted to do was to curl up under the quilt and sleep. She felt a light touch on her wrist. Then Finn pushed his big head to within inches of her face. She hadn’t even thought about him. What would happen to Finn? If she went with Colin, could they even take him? Oliver was right, he would attract attention when they would need to stay invisible.
“Oh, my Finn-dog,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his head. “What am I supposed to do?”
He gave a little huff through his nose and solemnly rested his chin on the covers. The gesture was so innocent and trusting, it re-awoke in her the immediacy of all the animals that were suffering and needed help – by whatever means. Jude pushed herself into a sitting position and swung her legs over the bed.
“You’re right,” she said. “There is only one way. Get out there and do something. Just keep working.”
Finn wagged his tail in response.
* * *
This time when she passed through Fielding’s Outfitters, Jude didn’t stop to watch the sales clerk demonstrate the action of the Bridger Wolf Trap. She knew exactly what it could do. As she slipped into the rear hallway, the door of Sal Mayhill’s office opened and a burly man sporting a handlebar mustache came out. With his hand on the door, he turned back and said, “Look at the bright side, Sal. When it all goes through us, it’ll cut down on your paperwork.” As he brushed past Jude, she recognized him instantly from his photo on the government website. It was Bud Grimes, regional director of Wildlife Services.
Through the open door, Jude saw Sal slam shut a file cabinet drawer with a loud clang, her face flushed with anger.
“Sorry, is this a bad time?” asked Jude.
“I’m a little busy,” replied Sal abruptly.
“No problem, I can come back.”
Sal waved for Jude to enter. “No, it’s okay. Come on in.” She moved over to the squeaky swivel chair behind her desk and peered over the tops of her reading glasses. The col
or in her cheeks was starting to fade. “Miz Harris, right? You find your tour guide operator?”
“Not yet,” said Jude. “I’m quite taken with Stanton, though. I think it will be a terrific destination spot for us.”
“Sure. How can I help you today?” She motioned to a seat across from her desk, but her mind was still on the encounter with Grimes.
Jude tugged off her gloves and sat. “I’m putting together a report about Stanton for my boss at EO Travel. And in addition to recommending activities, restaurants and hotels, I have to discuss potential issues that might pose a danger to our clients who would certainly be unfamiliar with the area. For liability purposes, you know.”
Sal gave her a quizzical look.
“Well, I heard about an injury,” proffered Jude cautiously, “a severe injury to a boy in Stanton from a cyanide trap.”
Sal took off her reading glasses and folded them into the breast pocket of her uniform. Jude noticed how tired she looked, almost beaten down, and she wondered if it was trouble at home. There were dark circles under her eyes, and from what Jude had witnessed, Bud Grimes had just added to her burdens. Whatever it was, she had the look of someone who was resigned to simply putting one foot in front of the other because all other options were closed.
“It’s true,” Sal responded. “But he’s going to be fine. Mind my asking where you heard that?”
“I read about them, these M-44’s,” said Jude, evading the question, “and they can be quite deadly, even to people. How widespread is their use?”
“I wouldn’t worry. These devices are illegal, except for Wildlife Services. And if they feel it necessary to use them, they post notices.”
Jude cleared her throat. “My understanding is that in the case of this child, there were no notices.”