Deadly River Pursuit

by Heather Woodhaven

  “That’s good.” The awkwardness between them seemed to heighten. Simply being in the lodge hit Henry over the head with memories. He’d first proposed in this hallway, on impulse, without a ring or a plan, before he’d left for training.

  But a couple of years later, after he’d returned, he’d also told Nora, in this same hallway, that he needed to take her to the sheriff’s office for questioning. As a new law enforcement ranger, he might have been a little too eager to prove himself. He’d come to pick Nora up for an early dinner, a few months after moving back. Her door was open, as it often was during the day so guides could find her easily. But that day, he’d found her holding a giant package of white powder, about to hand it over to her sister.

  At the time, Henry had suspected Maya had been going down the wrong path for a while. He’d made a knee-jerk decision and taken both Maya and Nora to the sheriff. The white powder had turned out to be lidocaine, an ingredient often used in over-the-counter burn creams. Maya claimed she’d been trying to invent a pain-reliever for sunburned rafting guides. Nora had been in the process of confronting Maya when he’d found them. But, unlike Henry, Nora had believed Maya’s explanation. Henry knew lidocaine was often used to cut drugs, but possession wasn’t enough to make an arrest stick. That night, Maya had grabbed her stuff and left town, despite Nora’s heartbroken pleas.

  That night had been the beginning of the end to their relationship, though he still maintained it wasn’t the main reason for their breakup. They’d been drifting apart long before that.

  Zach reached the entrance, and Henry’s trip down memory lane halted. Nora walked in front of the two men and gestured at Dexter’s room. Zach put on gloves and opened the door. “Unlocked.”

  “It was locked before I went to bed. I checked,” she said.

  The door swung open, revealing a flipped-over mattress, emptied-out dresser and desk, and an open trunk at the foot of the bed. Ransacked. Zach glanced at Henry over his shoulder. “Last night, Deputy Alexander interviewed some of the guides about Dexter.” He gave a nod in Nora’s direction. “The guides say he was bragging about having a lot of cash. This could’ve been a break-in for the money.”

  “But I heard Dexter say he had something that the gunman wanted.”

  Zach raised his eyebrows. “Please wait in the hallway, miss.”

  Henry’s ire rose. He didn’t like anyone dismissing Nora, even if they did need to consider all possibilities. Voicing his concern wouldn’t do him any favors. Working with the County Sheriff’s Department and the Forest Service was a constant game of politics and knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

  He didn’t want to give anyone any reason to kick him off the case. Especially since late last night the deputy had the audacity to suggest that Nora being shot at was just Dexter trying to warn her off from interfering with his suicide. An unlikely scenario, but Perry Fletcher hadn’t discouraged the theory.

  Zach walked forward and fingered through the open chest of clothes, water guns, video games and controllers. He held up a piece of paper. “Looks like we have a suicide note.”

  Nora gasped from the hallway. “The intruder probably planted it.”

  Zach raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  Henry wasn’t wearing gloves, so he looked over Zach’s shoulder and examined the note. “‘I’ve tried but I can’t take it anymore. Please tell my family I’m sorry,’” he read aloud.

  Nora shook her head. “No. Definitely not. That doesn’t sound like him at all.” Her eyes widened. “He wasn’t even done with his training and he was already causing trouble and bragging about his future. I have his handwritten application still in the office. You can compare the handwriting. I’m sure you’ll see it’s a fake.” By her eager tone Henry could tell she was confident it would be the proof they needed to totally dismiss the suicide theory.

  She beckoned them to follow.

  Zach pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and slipped the notepad-size paper into the bag. Closing the door, he muttered something about fingerprints.

  “The intruder wore gloves,” Henry said. “But maybe one of the guides knew Dexter well enough to tell if something was missing from his room.”

  The horizon to the east lit the mountains with a dazzling array of orange and pink hues as they hustled across the dirt covered in pine needles to the company office. Once inside, Nora found a key in a drawer and hastily opened a filing cabinet.

  She grumbled under her breath as she pulled out numerous manila files until she waved a crumpled form. “Found it.” She studied the paper herself before begrudgingly placing it on the customer counter. Henry and Zach compared the two samples. He wasn’t a handwriting analyst, but unless they were dealing with an excellent forger, the writing seemed to be an exact match.

  He felt Nora lean over his shoulder, studying the form alongside.

  Zach’s phone rang. He took it out and relayed to whomever was on the other end of the line that they’d found a suicide note. Henry strained to hear what sounded like talk about a gun. Zach answered in the affirmative and signed off. “Carl said the manager of Sauvage Outdoor finally answered his call. He says Dexter came in a few days ago to buy a gun. My guess is Perry will have what he needs to close the case now.”

  Nora spun on her heel and stormed out of the office. Henry rushed after her. “Nora, stop. Please.”

  She turned toward him, the wind blowing back her hair. Judging by the storm in her eyes, he knew they couldn’t face the present before they confronted the past. Again.

  FOUR

  Nora breathed deeply in and out, trying to slow her heart rate. She steeled herself as best she could against what Henry might say.

  “I believe you,” he said softly. “One hundred percent.” He stepped closer. “But I’m only on this case because I’m invited to do so. I need to be strategic.”

  Her forehead tightened. Words. They were just words. She’d thought before that he’d had her back only to be proven wrong in the most humiliating way. “I still have a business to run.” And save, hopefully, but she didn’t need Henry’s pity. “I’m going to get ready and prep the other rafting sites.” She held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll avoid the crime scene.”

  “I was actually hoping you’d be willing to take me to the crime scene.”

  “Why?”

  “Perry indicated last night that he would be willing to take a second look once I explained that our witness had been shot at. I don’t think Zach knows what he’s talking about back there, but I would like to find evidence to back up your testimony.” His eyebrows jumped and he held out an open hand. “I have other options, but as you know, you’re the best and this would get you back on the river faster.”

  She should be grateful, but for reasons she didn’t fully understand herself, her blood only pumped hotter. “Fine, but you’re going to have to come along to at least another site or two before I’m done for the day. I need to keep site preps moving before early season starts. Be at the dock in thirty minutes.” She spun on her heel and strode back to her room.

  She yanked open the top dresser drawer to grab her clothes and her fingers caught on the familiar outline of the silver frame. The photo had been there for so long, she’d ignored its existence as if it were part of the drawer itself. Her fingers wrapped around the frame and slowly slid it out from under the extensive collection of wool socks.

  Henry’s smiling face beamed up through the frame’s glass. His arm was wrapped around Nora’s shoulders as they sat side by side in a camp chair made for two, in front of a roaring campfire. They’d both changed so much since then, but something about the photo—maybe the reminder of happier times—had kept her from ever getting rid of it. And now she was about to spend time with him again. She glanced up at the only other framed photo still on the dresser. The one of her mother, her sister and her, right before Mom had passed away the day afte
r Nora’s fifteenth birthday.

  Family always came first, and while Henry had nothing to do with her mom’s passing, he had everything to do with her sister’s disappearance from her life. She still had no idea where Maya was now. It’d been six months since a postcard, the last one coming from Seattle with a bogus return address.

  Nora shoved the framed photo back underneath the socks. No time for a memory show. She prepped for a day on the river and, true to her word, found Henry on the dock thirty minutes later.

  “Perry said he’s about to drop in the water at the Savage bridge.”

  She nodded. Locals often used the “Savage” nickname for all things Sauvage. Perhaps to make it sound more American. In the same way Boise had been named, French fur trappers had named the Sauvage River, meaning “wild.” Now the nickname seemed more a reminder of Tommy’s and Dexter’s murders.

  She handed Henry a microwaved burrito. “You might want some breakfast before we hit the rapids.”

  His eyes widened. “That was thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “You might not be thanking me later. I’m taking the fastest currents all the way there. You shouldn’t need to paddle, though.” She might’ve imagined it, but he seemed to have paled. She remembered the long months he’d spent in a cast after his rafting accident, but he’d never talked about it.

  “Of course,” he said with a nod. “Fastest is best.” They hit the water a few minutes later.

  Trying to keep Henry from needing to paddle, she was able to block out her emotions and focus on the currents. The sounds of cheerful birds and leaves rustling against each other almost made her forget why they were on the water in the first place.

  She missed interacting with guests on the water, observing the way families bonded, and the wide-eyed wonder and gasps from children. Once the rafting season began, she was responsible for managing the business from the office and would only have time to get back on the river if there was a problem. Problems always meant someone was hurt, missing, or worse. She fervently prayed every night that there would be no problems.

  They rounded the bend and she guided the raft toward the beach. Perry, already standing on the sand, helped to drag the raft farther up on land before they stepped out. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to age the man ten years, but Nora found it hard to feel sorry for him when he’d challenged what she’d seen yesterday. “I have bad news,” he said. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder.

  The picnic area looked trashed. Smoke tendrils drifted in the air from the used firepit. Wrappers and debris seemed to be everywhere. Henry groaned aloud. “Teens?”

  “If I had to guess.” Perry shifted uncomfortably to talk to Nora. “Henry reminded me you interned once as river patrol. Thanks for helping out again when we’re short on resources, but I need to remind you not to touch anything.”

  Nora steeled her features, trying not to show surprise. Her time as a river patrol guide was really about educating people about the rules of the river, checking for fishing and rafting permits, and cleaning up trash. She loved every minute of those months, but she never took part in any investigations or law enforcement. While Perry hadn’t apologized for his quick dismissal last night, she knew him enough to know that his soft tone meant he’d changed his mind and was taking her seriously now.

  Everyone knew the rangers were stretched thin. So why was it easier for her to forgive Perry for his mistake than Henry when he tried to arrest her sister?

  “Where were you shot at?” Henry asked.

  Nora pointed along the shore. “I ran from my boat to behind those boulders. Sorry I can’t be more exact. I was focused on getting to safety.”

  Henry’s neck reddened, the way it did when he was upset. Perry scratched his chin before he spoke. “The waves might’ve already lapped up what we’re looking for.” Perry and Henry turned away, talking in low tones. They split up, gloves on their hands and evidence bags in their pockets.

  She wanted to be wrong about the murder so they could still use Sandy Cape for rafting. So her aunt’s business wouldn’t deteriorate. So the economy and livelihoods of the townspeople wouldn’t suffer. But yet, she also wanted proof that she hadn’t been imagining things.

  Wanting to know, her own mind won out. Nora ducked underneath the crime scene tape stretched between two of the boulders near the picnic table. She had no interest in revisiting the area where Dexter had been murdered just beyond the tree line—Henry and Perry could deal with that. But she knew the townspeople and teens in the area well enough that she wondered if there might be a clue as to who had ruined the crime scene.

  A box of store-bought brownies was open and left on the ground. Except, there wasn’t a single frosted brownie missing. Odd. Wouldn’t teenagers want to devour that? The picnic table would need dousing with several tubs of water to remove the sticky traces of something maroon. She followed the trail and found a half-empty box of raspberry-filled donuts. And next to it, on the ground beside the firepit, lay a package of unwrapped, smoked salmon. It was still whole, as if someone had dumped the fish on the sandy ground. Most teenagers didn’t have the kind of money to be buying smoked salmon.

  A pile of uneaten hot dogs rested next to the firewood. Nora stared at the scene, her eyes drifting to another hot dog, half eaten, about a half a foot away. So, if a group of teens had brought all this food, had something scared them away before they could enjoy it? She scratched her head. That didn’t really make sense, but it was actually more dangerous that they’d left out all the food.

  The Sauvage tied with the Salmon River as the second deepest river gorge in North America. To protect both the area and to keep everyone safe, visitors knew to pack everything in and out so as not to attract wild animals to sites like this. The spread seemed almost like the perfect meal plan if you wanted to lure a...

  Her mouth dried up as her eyes drifted back to the raspberry-filled donuts. The box looked as if it’d been dragged then left behind. Right next to the discarded box was a dusty footprint, barely discernable in the sand. Her eyes darted to the hot dogs. Three feet away, the sand mixed with mud and revealed another half a footprint. Something that most definitely had long claws.

  “Henry?” She called out and looked over her shoulder to see him balancing precariously on top of one of the boulders, near where she’d hidden from the bullets.

  He didn’t look up. His eyebrows were low, so intense was his focus on something roughly five feet from him.

  “I’m afraid we might have some wildlife nearby,” she said, even louder. She looked around to find Perry, but it was as if the man had disappeared. She should grab a trash bag and clean the food up immediately, but she would need Perry’s permission first.

  She stepped forward, following the tracks. A small cry that sounded almost like an exotic bird with a little guttural growl at the end sent chills up her spine. She squinted and, past the thick foliage, two sets of eyes peered back at her. With the softest-looking black fur, two cubs fought to climb over a fallen log. Their limbs appeared too big for their small bodies, and they stumbled over each other. If she had to guess, they looked to be roughly three months old. “Henry?” she called out again, keeping her voice friendly but loud. “I really need your attention.”

  Because where there were cubs, there was often—

  * * *

  “Yeah, I’ll be there in one minute.” Henry held up one hand but didn’t look away from the object of his focus. Willing his eyes to zoom wasn’t working, but there was something reflective on the top edge of one of the small rocks. For all he knew, it could be a wrapper, but his gut told him it might be a bullet casing. If it turned out to be a match for the type of bullet used on Dexter, Perry would have no choice but to sound the alarm they had a murderer on the loose. And maybe, just maybe, they’d finally get another lead to solving Tommy’s Sorenson’s murder.

  Trying to reach the item was proving prec
arious, as it was just beyond the highest boulder. The way the sun shone on the slick rocks, everything looked shiny. He was afraid if he glanced away for even a second, it would take him forever to find it again.

  “Henry!”

  His gaze darted to Nora. Her arms were high in the air, but there’d been no mistaking the alarm in her shout. A giant paw snapped the branches of a bush fifteen feet in front of her. The snout poked out first, followed by a loud huff. A black bear, at least six feet long, stepped out into the open picnic area and slapped the ground with its paw. Its ears stood straight up, then flattened as its head ducked down, scared but ready to fight.

  “Hey!” Henry yelled. “Get out of here.” He slipped down the boulder and felt a sharp edge rip his knee open.

  “She has cubs,” Nora said loudly, waving her arms.

  The bear took one step forward and began clacking its teeth together. Four fast clicks followed by a growl. The enormous animal turned away and Henry almost breathed a sigh of relief until the mama bear spun back around, taking another closer step to Nora, huffing and releasing another rendition of the odd chattering sound.

  Normally when dealing with a black bear, the procedure was to make yourself big and stand your ground, but when cubs were involved, the usually timid animal’s behavior could transition to something unpredictable. Henry slid all the way down to the ground, taking the scratches with inward groans. He picked up a stick of driftwood and stepped away from the boulders, then waved the stick in the air. “Hey!”

  The bear shifted her gaze from Nora to Henry and huffed again. She picked up the box of brownies with her jaw then turned and jogged toward the boulders, uttering a repetitive grunt that sounded like she was ordering her cubs “Off! Off!” The cubs barreled after her, tripping occasionally and scrambling over the rocks. The mama stopped every few steps to look over her shoulder, keeping a keen eye on Henry and Nora.