“He’s a good guard dog, yes.” Felicity sighed with relief. Shadow was turning out to be a terrible guard dog. If someone approached the house or barn, he certainly knew right away, but he was as likely to hide under the bed as bark a warning. He was leery, wary, timid, and still uncertain about his place on Felicity’s farm. And being small didn’t help. Miss Anthropy was surprisingly tolerant of him, and, if she were human, one might even say she was kind. But then, Felicity worried the cat was just biding her time until she could teach the interloper a lesson.
“Don’t go visiting strangers, Felicity.”
“I won’t, Dad.”
“You haven’t met that family. You don’t know them, so don’t go visiting them.”
She guessed he had to be talking about the Bodruns and Clarissa Jenkins, and answered accordingly. “Clarissa’s dead, Dad. So you don’t have to worry.”
But he would not be comforted. “You have enough friends and relatives as it is.” He licked his lips several times and began rocking in his chair, back and forth, his hand pulling the dog’s head closer and then back. The dog watched him but didn’t protest. The animal seemed to understand Walter.
“I have plenty of friends, yes. And I seem to be getting a full barn.”
Her father blinked, confused, and then broke into a smile. “Sheep.” He nodded. “Chickens. Get some chickens. Keep them with the sheep.”
“Why would I do that?”
“They clean up after the sheep, break up the scat and turn up the soil.” He seemed very pleased with this information and bobbed his head, smiling and petting Shadow. “Save you some work.” He seemed lost in thought. “Chickens and sheep. Small farming, but good.”
“Did you and Mom start out with sheep and chickens?”
“Don’t let them wander,” he said. “You’ll be chasing them. Keep them out of the woods.” He looked down at the dog. “Don’t let him wander either. No telling where he might end up.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Felicity said.
“No wandering, Lissie. You go chasing him, and he could go anywhere and then everyone would be chasing him. No telling where that might lead. Promise me, Lissie.” He grabbed her wrist again, and so vehement was his demand that she promised and repeatedly reassured him. But by the time she left, he had grown agitated again, and she worried that talking about the farm had been a mistake.
The mild winter was turning into a mixed blessing for Felicity and her neighbors. The lack of snow melt meant they could be heading into a period of drought, but the lingering cool weather meant the trees had not yet fully leafed out. That made it easier for Felicity to review plans for a cutting with her logger, and she happily set out with him along the northeastern edge of her property, along an old dirt road.
Lance Gauthier had inherited his father’s plumbing business and surprised everyone by preferring to work as a logger. A few years younger than Felicity, he’d repeatedly asked her about hiking and camping on her parents’ farm, so his decision hadn’t surprised her as much. After barely ten years, it was generally conceded that he probably knew more about the land in the central counties of the state than any other person living or dead. He was stocky through the shoulders and torso, with short muscular legs and thick light sandy hair. He had brown eyes that softened when he peered into the woods and sharpened when he was reading a cutting plan. Lance led the way, following a deer track, and listened to her comments as they went.
“We’re lucky out here,” he remarked. “Poverty has its advantages, Felicity.”
Sitting comfortably at home in her farmhouse, in front of a fire with a cat on her lap, she might agree with him. But lately stacks of seed catalogues, garden plans, old seed envelopes, bills and estimates, and meeting notices covered the kitchen table, and Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she’d settled in front of the fire for a nap or a good read. In the evenings now, if Miss Anthropy worked her way onto Felicity’s lap at the kitchen table, the cat barely had enough time to fall asleep again before her owner was getting up for another project. “You mean the land is poor and the people are poor, so no one bothered with this area.”
“There’s a developer over the state line talking about gated communities with helipads,” Lance said.
“Helipads?” That got her attention. “Where are they planning on going? To visit friends at the next gated community?”
“They don’t appreciate the land, Felicity. They don’t.” Lance’s eyes grew intense. She couldn’t remember him sounding so obsessed before. “We have to save it, protect it.”
“Hmm, just before I cut it down to sell for timber.” She propped her hands on her hips and looked at the trees: white pine and hemlock, but also black birch, yellow birch, red oak, and red maple. They weren’t exactly shaped like dollar signs but she was pretty sure the money was there.
“I was cruising another property,” he began, using the term for assessing the value of an area for timbering, “and yours are much better. Not as good as out in the Berkshires, but still good.”
“That’s good news.”
“We can start next week.”
Felicity nodded and looked straight up. “They’re good trees.”
Lance glanced at Shadow, now leaning against Felicity’s leg. “Have you let him off the leash yet?”
“A few times. He never goes far. But he doesn’t seem to want to be off-leash.” She knelt down and unhooked the lead. She wondered if taking an animal off lead was a sign in dog fighting that a fight was imminent. If so, it would explain why Shadow never minded being pulled along. He blinked at her and looked woefully about him.
Lance watched the animal. “Do you know him well enough to know how he’ll behave if he meets another dog? I mean, you wouldn’t want any surprises. What information did you get about him?”
“Almost nothing. He’s under forty pounds but about full size. Healthy though he’s been through a lot. He’s just a timid little thing.” As if to prove her point, Shadow snuffled nearby, looked about, and sat down.
“I’ve heard about those greyhounds from race tracks,” Lance said. “They can take years to come back. They don’t know what kindness is or how to play.”
Felicity winced. “I hope he’s not that bad.”
Lance turned to his own concerns, pointing out a particularly good specimen. But whatever he was going to say was lost in the sudden change in Shadow. He jumped to his feet, looked about, put his nose to the ground, and began searching.
“Well, that’s different.” Felicity watched for a moment before she realized the dog might get away from her. “Oh, damn.” She hurried after him. She and Lance tracked Shadow while he tracked something else. When he disappeared from view, they followed the noise he was making digging through the brush. They came upon him at the foot of a stone outcropping, where he paced back and forth, looking up and whining before twirling in a circle and backing away from the higher ground. Felicity took the opportunity to snap on the leash.
“Hey, he’s not a total loss after all.” Lance knelt down and brushed away leaves and other debris. It was late morning and a strong sun scattered light across the ground. “He’s a tracker.”
“What did he find? A coyote den?” Felicity didn’t think that was much of a feat. Coyotes were ubiquitous in the area, and mostly predictable. She brought the sheep in every evening and avoided letting Miss Anthropy out after dark, despite her complaints. If she let her out, she was likely to find the cat sitting quietly on the rafters of the barn while coyotes whined below. But now that she had sheep to care for, she never left the barn open. Miss Anthropy was miffed.
“Not a coyote,” Lance said, looking up at her with a grin. “Bobcat. Take a look.”
Felicity knelt beside him and studied the outline of four toes pressed into the softening ground. The print might have been mistaken for that of a house cat except for the size, an
d she guessed the animal was about three times larger than Miss Anthropy.
“I’d heard bobcats had been seen in the area but I never thought I’d find one on my property,” she said, standing up.
“This is the perfect place for it,” Lance said. “That ledge, the distance from humans, access to small animals like squirrels and mice and maybe skunks and some birds, and water—it’s perfect. And you’d never know the animal was here if you didn’t do timbering. This is a very isolated spot.”
“How worrisome is a bobcat for a dog like Shadow?”
Lance shook his head. “I’d be more worried about a pack of coyotes at night. Not a bobcat. Bobcats don’t usually get bigger than twenty pounds. Shadow’s bigger and heavier, so not in danger. At least not when there’s other food around and he’s not bothering the animal.”
“Are you sure we should timber in here?” Felicity stepped back and looked up at the presumed den on the ledge. “This area is pretty quiet and remote. I sort of like the idea of keeping it this way.”
“It hasn’t been logged in probably forty years or more,” Lance said, his voice dropping. He sounded like a lecturer now, strict and formal, almost officious.
“At least that long.” Felicity tried to remember what she’d learned recently. “I did some checking, and there’s part of the forest that my parents never timbered. The edge of this section here was included in the last two plans, so I figured I’d keep it up. But I don’t know about going beyond this area.”
“Timbering is important for giving the land the opportunity to replenish,” Lance said. “It clears out full-grown specimens and opens things up for new growth.”
“I know all that, but still … ” Felicity didn’t like being lectured. She tried to ignore his scolding tone.
“My suggested work conforms to the goals stated in the earlier plans you filed under Chapter 61 with the state.” Lance stepped away and began to scrutinize the stands. “The DRC is paying closer attention these days.”
“Really?” She didn’t recall hearing anyone else complaining about the Department of Conservation and Recreation. “I haven’t heard that.”
Lance shifted his feet, resting one on a rock as he scanned the area. “Since it hasn’t been done, it should be. You won’t get away with ignoring it.”
But Felicity wasn’t convinced. She’d occasionally wondered about parts of the forest left untended but never thought much about it. After all, her family had plenty to deal with elsewhere. She tried to remember what her dad had told her about the older sections. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely recalled that something was different there, but she couldn’t quite get at what that was. She walked past the outcropping and ledge, where the ground began to level out. “Maybe we can work around this.”
“You can rework the plan,” Lance said. “But you should think about it. I can get in here and bring everything up to date. You’ll be glad you did.”
“You really think it’s necessary?” Again, Felicity tried to ignore the man’s hectoring tone. She had followed him through reasoning, lecturing, scolding, mild defensiveness, and now reluctant agreement. And it all left her uneasy.
“I do.” He turned to look more closely at the trees.
Felicity watched him, curious at how intense he’d become. Lance had always done a good job, agreeing with her and her dad on where to clear and what to leave, and offering fair prices. But she’d never seen him like this, and she’d never felt pressured before. She dropped down to where Shadow sat watching them.
“So, you’re a tracker?” She ran her hands over the dog. “I like that. I can’t wait to tell Jeremy and Loretta.”
Shadow seemed to take Felicity’s gentle speech as encouragement. He bolted, the leash flapping behind him as he charged ahead. Felicity shouted and hurried after him, but the dog had found his world and gleefully romped through it.
“Not so timid now,” Lance said after failing to grab him.
Felicity knew she should send Lance on his way, but she appreciated his efforts to help her capture the wayward animal. Shadow continued to dodge and lunge, and Felicity to scoop and grab, but the dog slipped past every time.
“I may have to give this dog back to Loretta.” Felicity stopped to catch her breath. Running over uneven ground never meant for humans to walk through took its toll, and she was sweating. “Fostering rescue dogs is not for me.”
“Loretta Colson gave him to you?”
“You sound surprised.”
Lance shrugged. “I didn’t know she was into rescue dogs.” He glanced around, but Shadow had disappeared. “Maybe I should head back.”
“Of course.” Felicity felt guilty for having dragged the logger into her canine fiasco. “I’ll get him. The leash is sure to get snagged on a rock or log, and then he’ll start barking. At least I hope he will. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I think at least he knows to do that much.”
And he did. They heard Shadow barking in the distance. With a brief backward glance in the direction of the road, Lance fell in behind Felicity as she stumbled forward. They jumped from mound to mound along the deer paths before the trail veered away over a hill. She came around the slope first and spotted Shadow lying on his belly with his muzzle resting on the leg of a young woman. She seemed to be napping, her legs stretched out and her hands in her lap. She wore jeans stained at the knees and a quilted red jacket that had collected a number of twigs and dead leaves.
“Oh!” Felicity stalled a second and then hurried closer.
The young woman was sitting upright, her back resting against a sapling. But when Felicity touched her shoulder, she leaned to the side and collapsed onto the ground. Her body fell loose, as though her limbs were held together only by the covering of skin. Lance came up behind them.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Felicity knelt down and lightly touched her fingertips to the woman’s bare hand. After a moment, she snatched it away. She pulled a baseball cap away from the woman’s face so she could get a better look. She gasped.
“What is it?” Lance leaned over her.
“Look at her skin.” Felicity swallowed hard.
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure. Her name’s Sasha Glover. I just met her yesterday. She came to the farm to thank me for being with Clarissa Jenkins when she died in that car accident. She was fine—” She started to say more but thought better of it.
“But what?”
“Nothing,” Felicity said quickly. “Nothing. Just that.” She stood up and pulled out her cell phone. When no bars came up she shook it. “Damn.”
Lance pulled out his phone. “No reception in here. I’ll walk back to the road and call the police.” He looked again at Sasha. “We probably shouldn’t leave her here, even if she’s been here for a while, from the looks of it. Do you mind waiting with her?”
“Take the GPS coordinates so you can find your way back with the police. Call Kevin, Chief Algren. This is his territory.”
Lance nodded and headed back through the woods. After a few minutes Felicity no longer heard his footsteps crunching over the ground. Instead of moving away to find a boulder to sit on, she knelt in front of the woman and looked closely at each limb, then leaned in to seek out an odor that might tell her something and walked around to the other side. She didn’t want to disturb the body or the scene, but she was curious. She saw no sign of blood or other injury, no weapon thrown into the debris nearby, no signs of attack. Sasha had merely been sitting in the woods, leaning against a tree.
Felicity was glad of the chance to be alone with Sasha, but still she hesitated as she lifted her hands and held them over the young woman. The power of healing she carried in her hands was a family gift, one not meant to be shared carelessly or for gain. But she couldn’t ignore the need in front of her. If there was a flicker of life, she ha
d to try to nurture it. She pushed her sleeves back and rested her hands, palms down, on the young woman’s torso, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
She waited for the familiar warmth to come, but her hands remained cool, chilled by the late winter air. She tried to go deeper, but all she sensed was a single sharp pain piercing her right palm, and then it was gone. She opened her eyes and leaned back. Resting her fingers on Sasha’s neck, she waited for a pulse, then sat back on her heels. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. It was too late for her to do anything for Sasha.
Felicity had barely known the woman, but for some reason, Sasha had come to her and tried to tell her how upset she was, perhaps over Clarissa’s death but perhaps over something else. She had wanted to talk but hadn’t known how to say what worried her. And Felicity hadn’t been able to draw her out.
Shadow continued to rest his muzzle on Sasha’s leg, but tipped his head to peer at Felicity.
“There’s nothing I can do, puppy.” She ran her hand over his head and scratched behind his ears. He closed his eyes and sighed.
Felicity inhaled the scent of the forest, the rotting leaves, the carelessly upturned dirt, scat from passing animals. She sniffed, glanced at the dog, and wondered.
Above her, in the trees, a Cooper’s hawk came to rest and glared at her. The leaves behind her ruffled and a small mouse skittered away into a moss-covered log. She knew it would be a while before the police arrived, and she would hear them coming, trekking through the woods.
She leaned toward the dead woman, taking in her neatly pressed jeans now stained with dirt, her red-and-white striped jersey pulled askew across her torso, her hair entangled with leaves. It was the outfit Sasha had been wearing on her visit to Tall Tree Farm just yesterday. “I wish Clarissa had told you what she wanted to tell me. But she’s dead and now you’re dead.” Felicity studied the young woman’s body, from the mass of hair to her dirt-covered, low-heeled black shoes. “I can’t even tell how you died.”
Below the Tree Line Page 4