by Eileen Brady
“So I’m free to move on.” I repeated.
He nodded his head. “Yes.”
I clicked open the truck and placed the takeout on the floor behind the front seat. “That’s good to know. I’ll give Lizette and Fiona a ring tomorrow to confirm.”
That got a reaction. He inched away from the fender he’d been leaning on. “Uh, don’t bother. That’s not necessary. Better not bring up a painful subject again. That goes for Sophia too.”
Interesting. He didn’t want me to contact any of Flynn’s family. I found it funny that he’d slipped Sophia, Flynn’s grandmother, into the mix, since she made no secret of the fact that she hated his guts. No way that feisty woman would let Bruce speak for her.
He stared at me as if trying to read my mind. What was going on behind those puffy eyes?
I put a smile on my face and played my final card. “I understand your position. But for my own records, where were you on Friday, August 10, around three in the afternoon when Flynn disappeared?”
His jaw and fists clenched. Bulky shoulders moved forward and reminded me this guy was bigger than I thought. “No more questions, do you hear me?”
A burst of laughter sounded behind us as a large group came out of the diner and headed toward their cars.
When Bruce saw them he hesitated, kicked my tire with his boot, and stalked away. Before I got into the truck he turned back, a nasty expression on his face.
“Stay away from my family, Doc, or you’re going to regret it.” His petulant face gave him a sulky toddler look.
“I’ll take that under advisement, Bruce.”
***
“Bruce is a world-class jerk,” Mari said the next day. I’d told her about my late-night chat with Fiona’s dad and, like the high school drama teacher, she had nothing good to say about him.
“So why does anyone put up with him?” I asked. We’d just pulled into a gas station to top off the tank before Cindy called and told us our last appointment of the day had canceled. The rest of our day was free.
Mari wiped a big streak of something off the fender. “From what I heard, Bruce got a big cash settlement after an accident at his job six years ago.”
The gas pump clicked off. “That doesn’t seem like a reason to stay with the guy and be miserable the rest of your life.”
“People do weird things,” Mari answered with her brand of wisdom.
Done fueling up, I got in the truck, put my hands on the wheel, and asked, “So, where to? Want to head back?”
She offered me some trail mix before coming up with a different suggestion.
“We’re almost at Sheckter’s Hill. Want to check on that bear situation?
“Sure.” I’d spoken to someone at the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation a few days ago. They were crazy busy because of budget cutbacks and hunting season. Whoever I spoke to said their latest information indicated there never was a bear on the property. I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to follow up on the rumor—but only if Mari knew Crazy Carl. I didn’t want to trespass on some trigger-happy guy’s property.
“You definitely know him?”
“Absolutely. He’s crazy as a bedbug.”
That didn’t sound promising. “Do we have to be worried about a confrontation, Mari?”
Sounding nonchalant, my assistant replied, “Nope. If you see a bedbug, you step on it.”
***
Sheckter’s Hill boasted some of the most scenic property around Oak Falls. On our drive over Mari pointed out the vast national park land that bordered many of the homes we saw.
While she chattered away, I remembered wild stories I’d heard from fellow veterinarians over the years about people with raccoons in their apartments, tigers in their basements, and chimpanzees raised like human babies. Most of these owners meant well, but a wild animal is just that—wild—and when they become sexually mature adults, those loving baby characteristics tend to fade away. What is often left is an animal confused and unpredictable, that can’t be successfully returned to its natural habitat to live the life Nature intended for them.
The scenery started to look familiar.
“This is pretty close to where Flynn’s grave was found, isn’t it?” I still was getting my bearings in some of the rural areas.
“Yep. It’s the next ridge over.” She pointed off to the left. “Okay, slow down, we’re almost there.”
Forest Road 27 was set on at least twenty acres with one of those trailers you sometimes see in the distance as you drive by on your way to somewhere else. Located off the main road, the front acreage was strewn with the remains of three rusty vehicles that had seen better days, along with several tires, a washing machine, and an old sink. The tattered remnants of a striped awning flapped in the wind. Nailed to trees bordering the dirt driveway were multiple signs: Private Property Keep Out, Trespassers Will Be Shot, Beware of Dogs and a faded and incongruous Home Sweet Home.
Three cinder blocks served as the front steps. Several outbuildings dotted the property most with rusted sheet-metal roofs. I could faintly see the outline of a barn through some pine trees behind the doublewide.
Mari got out of the truck then uttered an expletive when her hiking shoe sunk into the mud.
Forewarned, I reached behind the driver’s seat and grabbed my knee-high green rubber boots.
After scraping her sole against a stepping stone several times Mari reached the trailer’s front door and knocked.
I jumped out and stretched a bit, waiting for some kind of response. After all of Mari’s stories, I was curious to meet Crazy Carl.
“Looks like he’s not here,” she said after yelling out his name and banging on the door a few times.
“No harm in looking out back, I guess.” My nose had picked up a musky animal smell. “Maybe he’s in the barn.”
“You go ahead,” Mari called out, not willing to venture through the muck.
“Okay.” The back of the place looked worse than the front. Engine parts and random old pieces of furniture were scattered haphazardly around. An outbuilding that listed to the side in the damp ground appeared stuffed with junk and moldy mattresses. You could see daylight through the gaps in the pine board walls. Somewhere an unlatched gate slammed in the wind.
Several large trees blocked my view of the corral, but I detected no familiar smell of horses or cattle. Once I ventured past a few overgrown shrubs I saw something that tore my heart out.
An almost fully grown black bear stared at me from inside a large steel cage, a pile of dirty hay serving as bedding. One narrow metal door attached to the enclosure led to a smaller capture cage. As I approached I noticed the bear’s left rear leg was chained with an iron shackle, the kind they used in old prison movies. When he saw me the animal got up and lumbered toward a half-filled metal bowl in the far end of the enclosure.
The taut chain stopped him about six feet from the food.
With a massive arm the bear attempted to swipe the bowl closer, his curved claws scraping ridges in the dirt. Our eyes met.
I knew hungry when I saw it.
“Hold on, big guy,” I told the animal. Since it was vital to document the abuse I took several pictures and immediately texted them to our local wildlife office. Then I lifted the latch on the barn door and searched for food. Bags of dog kibble were stacked just inside. A bucket of wilted vegetables and bruised fruit lay on the dusty floor.
I lugged the bucket outside and tossed the contents next to the bear, all the while telling him things would be okay. My phone chimed, confirming that wildlife had received the messages and a team would be sent out today. While the bear greedily ate, I threaded the garden hose through the bars to fill up an old horse trough with water.
Out of the corner of my eye I realized someone was walking toward me, a smallish man in his thirties with greasy brown
hair dressed in a red ski jacket and jeans. A shotgun swung from his hand.
“What are you, one of those animal rights ladies? You’re trespassing, you know. I could shoot you right now.” Strangely enough his breath smelled like Butterfingers mixed with tobacco.
“Stop being an ass, Carl.” Mari appeared behind us, a frown on her face and mud caking both of her shoes.
Carl’s ferret-like face scrunched up. “This ain’t cruelty. I’ve had him since he was a cub. Look how nice he’s grown.” The hand with the shotgun gestured toward the bear. “I’ve been teaching him how to dance like they do in Russia. Got a rich guy in Texas who wants to buy him.”
“I don’t think so.”
His eyes squinted in a sly look. “Who’s gonna stop me, blondie?”
I stretched myself to my full height and moved directly in front of him. “That would be me.”
His reaction was to spit a wad of chew at my feet. The brown drops splattered my rubber boots.
“Don’t mess with her,” Mari advised him. Her eyes drifted to the figure of the bear in the corral in front of her. “Holy cow.”
I realized the bear had stopped eating for a moment to raise its massive head and stare at us.
Outraged about this capture situation, I continued. “I suggest you call your lawyer, Carl. I’ve already texted pictures of the corral, the bear, and your address to the Environmental Conservation Police officers. They should be here any minute.”
“Tell the government to stay out of my business.” He raised the shotgun and scratched his crotch.
“Don’t point that at her.” Mari raised her voice.
Our potential standoff was interrupted by the chime of a text message. My assistant glanced down at her cell phone. “Sorry, Kate, we have to go.”
Satisfied the authorities would now handle Crazy Carl and take possession of the bear, I started to walk away.
Of course, that provoked a response. “Keep your nose out of my business, girly. That goes for you too, Mari. Come back here and you’ll both be sorry.”
He yelled something else at us but that final threat was swallowed up by the wind.
***
My contact at Fish and Wildlife called me two hours later.
“No bear found on the property, Kate,” she told me. “At first Mr. Sheckter denied everything but between your pictures and our investigation there’s plenty of evidence one was here. We found bear scat in the corral and all around the barn. This guy tried to clean up but he didn’t do a very good job. I uncovered a shackle that had been recently cut hidden in the hay with fur still stuck on it. There also was a store of illegal tranquilizer darts, which is probably how he managed the animal.
That surprised me. “Where did he get those?”
“The Internet, Craigslist, who knows? Anyway, we issued him a citation. Just wanted to tell you how it went.”
“Any idea where the bear is?”
“We’re hoping he’s wandered up into state park land by now. Sheckter got him in the small capture cage, cut the leg restraint off and let him go.”
I heard the frustration in her voice.
“We’ve got an alert posted for any sightings and a team searching the area now.”
The idea of a large bear loose in a populated area worried me. It might take this animal a while to get its bearings.
“Let’s hope he’s made it back into the woods on his own,” I said, “for everyone’s sake. Especially the bear’s.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Prom night finally arrived.
My date picked me up in his Mercedes. Jeremy looked fantastic in a classic tuxedo, obviously not rented for the evening. Our plan was to have the limo pick us up at his place. Mari graciously agreed to walk Buddy for me.
My feet were jammed into four-inch heels with serious attitude. Cindy had loaned me a small shiny evening purse that barely held keys and a lipstick. My dress fit perfectly in all the right spots and shimmered under the lights. Bundled in a fun faux fur coat, also borrowed from Cindy, I waited with Jeremy in the lobby of the Stanton Inn. A crackling fire burned in the massive old fireplace of the main building, a farmhouse built in the 1800s. We were ensconced in a pair of wing chairs separated by a small inlaid mahogany table. My date ordered white wine and a plain iced tea for me.
“I’m so glad I went up to Cornell,” he said as he sipped his drink. “The faculty members I met gave me great advice.”
Ever since he’d gotten back earlier in the day Jeremy had been a ball of energy. Since the news about his dig in Africa didn’t look good he’d concentrated on weighing his options. Scheduled to be on sabbatical at the dig for another year meant his university had no classes for him to teach. A big chunk of empty time loomed ahead of him.
“What do you think of me going back to school?”
He looked more animated than I’d seen him in a long time. More like the student I’d known.
“Great idea,” I told him and toasted him with my iced tea. “All the intrigue you work under was pretty disturbing.”
“Dangerous, too. DNA advances have changed the profession so much. I’m excited to jump back into it.” He pulled out his phone and started texting. Even though I was right across from him, I might as well have been on the moon. We both were super dedicated to our work. A tiny feeling of doubt wormed into my soul.
“I’ve got a great idea, Jeremy. No electronics this evening. I’d like to concentrate on us tonight.”
He immediately powered off his screen. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Due to some last-minute issues with the limo, the four of us arrived later than we’d planned. The party was in full swing and the music was super loud. We all dutifully pinned on our printed name badges and signed the guest book before entering the Lakeside Hotel Ballroom.
A giant Eiffel Tower fabricated from PVC pipe and sprayed with metallic paint dominated the room. Blinking blue and white lights woven in and out of the structure gave it a surprisingly realistic look.
Directly opposite the entrance, taking up most of the wall, a giant screen displayed candid photos featuring members of the graduating class paired with old video footage of various high school events. In another corner, red velvet curtains hid what appeared to be a small stage. Chandeliers refracted the light while a bevy of silver metallic stars suspended on wires glittered and gently swayed whenever anyone passed by.
“Doesn’t it look fantastic?” Dina twirled around checking out every detail. Her prom dress, originally down to the floor in the old pictures she’d shown us in the limo, had mysteriously shrunk to alarmingly micro proportion. A cluster of guys hanging out at the bar didn’t hide their admiration of what showed under her flirty now short, short skirt.
For once I agreed with something Dina said. From what I could see, the decorating committee had done an outstanding job. Round tables clustered around the dance floor, decorated in silver and white. Miniature Eiffel Towers festooned with flowers served as centerpieces. Additionally, each table had a schedule of events for the night firmly encased in a Lucite holder.
Our enthusiasm didn’t match the moods of our dates. Luke and Jeremy were like two horses ready to bolt out of their stalls and take off.
A server in black pants and a white shirt moved past with a tray of canapés.
Lifting a tiny spear of shrimp by a toothpick I popped it into my mouth. The food tasted delicious. “I’m impressed, Dina. Aren’t you guys?”
Both of them nodded their lackluster approval while helping themselves to the appetizers.
“My friend Robin Daniels designed it. She works for an event planner in New York City. We rented most of this stuff. Denny helped cut the stars in the shop room and I anchored most of the Eiffel Tower lights to the frame.”
Luke commandeered Dina’s arm and began to plow through the crowd. “Let’s
find our table. We’re at number six.” Jeremy and I followed closely behind.
“I feel a little out of place.” I tried to whisper in his ear but ended up almost shouting.
“At least you know some of these people. I only know the dynamic duo in front of us.” He deftly steered me away from a near-collision with a somewhat tipsy guy balancing two martinis. “I’d rather be alone with you.”
“Ditto.” I squeezed his hand. “I’ve come to the conclusion this was a dumb idea. How am I supposed to talk to anyone with all this noise going on?” As if to prove my point, the DJ raised the music volume. All the videos projected on the screen had their own sound track so that noise summated along with the boisterous classmates who were laughing, drinking, and making up for lost time.
“Well, maybe it will quiet down,” Jeremy commented when we arrived at a table located not too far from the exit door. “Shall we dance?
Our bodies fit together easily. The smell of his aftershave and the angle of his shoulder as we swayed to the music were familiar but new at the same time. This Jeremy was handsome, decisive, and looking at me with a longing that touched my heart.
The slow dance melody, like honey with a beat, made it easy for us. Dressed in my party outfit I felt like a princess who had found her prince. Jeremy pressed his cheek next to mine and twirled me around, glints of light sparkling in the chiffon skirt.
When the song ended we stood for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then he led me back to our table and the real world. Dina was already busy gabbing with a couple at the next table while Luke had a bored look on his face.
After we sat, our eyes drifted to the huge screen.
“Look. That’s me on the wrestling team.” The bored look disappeared from Luke’s face. A video of two guys on a gymnasium floor, one in a headlock, played overhead. With only parts of faces showing under the helmets I didn’t recognize anything.
Jeremy gave Luke a mock punch on the arm. “I wrestled in high school, too.”
That started a lengthy conversation about weight groups and diets that I could barely hear. Sharing similar stories did allow them both to visibly relax a bit. While they talked, I couldn’t help but compare the two men.