June nudged his knee with her sandaled foot. “You’re kind of quiet,” she said softly. “Anything wrong?”
He shrugged, took another sip from the long necked bottle. “I’m fine.” She gave him a bright blue “oh really” glare. “Okay, I’m a bit antsy. I’m not used to big families.” His own parents had never given him the opportunity to experience the bonds he sensed in June’s family.
She drawled, “You ain’t seen nothing’ yet. We’re breaking you in easy. But it’s more than that,” she added. “You’ve been quiet since you picked me up. Has there been news about Iain?”
He was uneasy at being read so clearly. “The autopsy report and firearms test results came in,” he said. “The bullets that killed the bear and Iain match. And as the poachers would have had to wait around for hours, since the tip was obviously called in after they shot the bear, it certainly looks like Iain was lured out there to be killed.”
Goose bumps rippled on her arms, despite the sultry sun. She opened her mouth to speak, but right then Monica shouted out, inviting everyone to dish up. Hungry people hurried for the table. With a lopsided grin, June offered Alex her hand and they joined the rush.
They filled their plates, then settled on the springy green grass, leaving places at the table for the older generation.
Sean dropped next to June. In a practised move, he tucked Brian onto his lap, and began helping his son eat.
“So, Alex, how’d you hook up with my sister?” he asked, deftly catching the sippy cup Brian was attempting to throw across the lawn and distracting him with a spoonful of baked potato.
“Hook up.” June snorted. “Classy, Sean.”
“Hey, I’m asking for general info.” Her big brother smirked. “I don’t need the dirty details.”
“That’s lucky,” Alex said. He was surprised at how effortless it was to take part in the bantering. “Because you’re not getting any.”
They chatted as they ate. Brian scooted off when he was finished, and the three adults were left lounging on the lawn.
“Are you still involved in that RiverForce group?” Sean asked June.
She nodded. “I’m working for them this summer, doing grunt work in the office.”
“What’s the name of the guy that runs it? Richard something or other?”
“Fleetham.”
“Curly hair, beard, not too tall?”
“Sounds like him.”
“Huh.” He lapsed into silence, sipping his beer.
She gave his shoulder a friendly punch. “Why are you asking?”
“I was out McGregor way a few weeks ago, four-wheeling with the guys, and I think I saw him. He and this big fellow were getting out of a trucked parked on an old logging road. I knew he seemed familiar—I’ve seen him on the news a few times—but I couldn’t put my finger on it until now. Your ugly face reminded me.”
June stuck out her tongue.
Something about Sean’s story sent unease twinging along Alex’s nerves. “When was this?” he asked.
“Beginning of May. I remember because it was the day after Hillary’s birthday. I took her out to a swank restaurant Friday, then the next day went out with the guys.”
Alex’s eyes met June’s. “The weekend before we met at Longworth.”
Puzzlement creased her forehead. “Sounds like it.” She turned to Sean. “You sure it was Richard?”
“Of course not. But I remembered it, because they acted kind of weird. See, us guys were taking a break down by the river, and I’d lost the toss to get more beer, so I climbed up the bank back to the road. There’s a bend there, and these two dudes had parked before it, so they wouldn’t have seen our truck further around the corner. I didn’t get a good look, but when I saw the first guy I thought he was carrying a gun, some big mother of a rifle. When they saw me pop out of the bush they got back in the truck right away and drove off.” He belched into his fist. “Excuse me. Seemed kind of odd, you know what I mean?”
June shook her head. “It couldn’t have been Richard. I’m sure he was in Vancouver at a conference then. The records are in the River Force office.”
Sean shrugged. “Like I said, I thought he was familiar, but it might not have been him.” Just then, Brian let out a shriek as he tumbled off the low step at the back door. Sean jumped up to console the sobbing boy.
June and Alex helped clean up the remains of the meal, then made their excuses.
Monica walked with them to the Jeep. “I hope you enjoyed yourself, Alex. I’m sorry we didn’t get more of a chance to chat.”
“That’s all right, Mrs. Brandt.”
June’s mother waved off the formality. “Call me Monica. I also wanted to give my condolences. It’s an awful thing about your colleague. Karl and I have been following the story in the news.”
“It’s been a tough week for us all.” Alex opened the door for June and she slid in, then he walked around to the driver’s side. “Thank you for dinner. I had a good time.”
“You’re welcome.” Monica smiled. “Come back soon.”
****
Alex pulled up in front of June’s house. The late spring day was beginning to fade, and the slanting rays of the dying sun painted the trees overarching the street with caramel. He caressed her knuckles with his thumb and brought her hand to his lips. A wonderful lethargy stirred through her.
“Come in with me?” she asked.
He gave her a steady stare from under his brows, dark hair falling into his eyes, sharp cheekbones highlighted by the evening light slipping through the windshield. He lipped her finger, drawing the tip into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. She wanted that mouth. Wanted it everywhere. On her lips, on her breasts, on her body.
“Please,” she whispered, “come in with me.”
She was in his arms the instant the door closed, straining against him, glorying in a long, deep kiss and the feel of his hands in her hair. She feverishly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the material off his shoulders, stringing hot, open mouthed kisses across his chest, clasping her arms around his narrow waist.
With a muffled oath he grasped her hips and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him. He stumbled to the couch while she clung to him, her butt fitting perfectly between his thighs, her heels pressing against his back. His lips inflamed the skin of her neck. He muttered incoherently as he undid the clasp of her bra, drew it free and feasted on her breasts.
Edgy thrills ripped through her. The knowing of what was happening, the anticipation of all the touches and tastes to come, heightened the sensation, arousing her to new pitches of excitement.
His hands slid up her thighs, under the light material of her skirt and to the thin barrier of her panties. Her breath hitched as his fingers found their way between their bodies and into her hot, moist centre.
They tumbled to the floor, a jumble of arms and legs, avid mouths and eager hands. Shivers raced over her as he lapped his way across her stomach, tongued her navel. And when his mouth touched her aching wetness, she exploded with a ragged scream, arching toward him, trapping him, her legs around his shoulders.
She lay, chest heaving, as she clawed her way back. He discarded his jeans, then lowered himself to her. She reached up with both hands to cup his face. In a moment too sweet for words, she kissed him tenderly. They rocked together, and the waves built, reaching a crescendo surpassing any she had known before.
****
Alex lay, slack-muscled, his face tucked into the curve of June’s neck. He considered lifting his weight off her, but her arms held him tightly. Her hair tickled his nose, the citrus scent of her shampoo teasing, tempting.
She stretched under him, scraping her nails down his back, and arousal flared again. He tamped it down.
“I’ll move as soon as I can,” he said. “I must be crushing you.”
“No hurry. I am, oh, so fine.” Her voice was husky and a tad smug. It would have made him laugh if he’d had any energy left.
They crawled ba
ck up on the couch and wrapped themselves in a blanket, June’s back against Alex’s chest. She held his hand tucked under her chin, his leg lay over her thigh. Her breast was silky against his arm as she breathed.
For a long while they were silent, then he shifted to rest his elbow on the arm of the couch. He looked down at her. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Thirteen
How could four short words cause such panic? She knew loving Alex might cause her heartbreak. Yet she had allowed herself to hope. And what did it mean, saying those doom-filled words so soon after making love? She replied cautiously. “About what?”
“Did you notice something odd today, at your parents?”
She was bewildered, until she realized he was talking about the investigation, not their relationship. Then his words took on whole new meaning. Her sated, relaxed feeling seeped away. “What Sean said, about seeing Richard?”
“What would an environmental activist be doing with a guy with a rifle, on an old logging road?”
She sat up, the blanket pooling at her waist. The hairs of his chest bristled against her back, oddly comforting. “You know what else is strange? I know Sean didn’t say much about the guy with Richard—if it was Richard—but it reminded me of that night at the restaurant. He was with a big guy then.”
Alex nodded. “I thought of that, too.”
“There’s any number of good reasons for Richard to be out in the back country,” she speculated. “After all, he loves the land, the wildlife. He’s so passionate about it! And even if they did have a gun, it could have been for safety. It’s never smart to go into the bush without protection.” She stopped herself when she realized how shrill and desperate she sounded. She breathed in deeply, blew out lightly. “This is all moot, anyway, because I’ve seen the paperwork. Richard was in Vancouver that weekend.”
Alex spoke, his voice as soft as the fingers sweeping through her hair. “I know you admire the man. But be honest. You’re thinking what I’m thinking...there’s a possibility that Fleetham was in the area the same weekend that grizzly was poached.”
She brushed the bangs out of her eyes with a jerky movement. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I won’t believe it. You don’t know what he’s like. There’s no way Richard could be involved in poaching.” The idea made her insides clench. “There’s got to be another explanation. I’ll have to ask.”
“Ask what?” His hand tightened on her shoulder, forcing her to face him. Gone was the gentle understanding. In its place was cold professionalism. “Ask him if he’s a criminal? I don’t think so.”
“I’ll be more subtle than that,” she said tartly. “All I have to do is ask Richard an innocuous question about his trip to Vancouver. I’ll say I need a receipt or something. Then we’ll know for sure he couldn’t have been on the mountain.”
Alex rose from the couch, grabbed his boxers and yanked them on. “June, don’t do that. Leave this to me. If I ask the questions, it’s coming in an official capacity.”
“But that makes it worse! If I ask, Richard won’t know we ever thought about it. I’d never be able to look him in the eye again if he discovered we’d ever considered him a poacher. If you ask, he’ll know exactly what we’re thinking.”
He seized her elbows and pulled her to her feet, lifting her up onto her toes. She clutched the blanket around her, feeling foolish and defenceless in her near nakedness.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe Fleetham has nothing to do with the poaching. But if you’re wrong, if he is involved, he is also involved in Iain’s death.” He shook her gently but emphatically. “We’re not just talking about a poaching ring. We’re talking about murder.” She flinched at the word. “Please, don’t do anything. Let me take care of it. Or better yet, someone else from the Ministry, or the RCMP. That way, there will be no connection to you at all.”
Her icy fingers gripped the blanket between her breasts. “All right,” she said, giving in. “I won’t talk to him. But you’ve got to take care of this fast. I can’t go into work next week, wondering if I’ve got a murderer for a boss.”
He grazed her forehead with his lips. “I will. I’m going into the office now, get the ball rolling. I’ll call you.” He quickly finished dressing, gave her an absent-minded kiss, and was gone.
****
Despite their combined efforts, neither the Ministry nor the RCMP was able to track down Richard during the weekend. June spent most of the time making busy work for herself, as even vacuuming and dusting was better than obsessing over what was going on with the investigation.
When she spoke to Alex late on Sunday evening, he sounded tired and frustrated.
“We’re all set to do the interview. I talked with Sean and got the names of his buddies. It took a while for us to get a hold of them, and then they weren’t much help. Neither of them had seen anyone, although they did say Sean mentioned seeing the other men when he came back from getting the beer, so there is some confirmation at least. I coordinated with the RCMP, and they’ve been in touch with the conference organizers in Vancouver. We got lucky there, and found someone in the office even though it’s a weekend. But that’s where our progress ends. The problem is Fleetham wasn’t a guest speaker at the conference, he was a regular delegate, and there was no formal registration after the first day, which was a Wednesday. That gives Fleetham plenty of time to get back to Prince George by the supposed sighting on the weekend. The best way to confirm is to ask Fleetham for the names of people who might have seen him there. And as we can’t get a hold of him, we’re at an impasse. We’ve left messages for him everywhere, but he’s not getting back to us.”
June absently licked her thumb and swabbed at a smudge on the window as she stood, gazing out onto the street. “His schedule’s in the system at RiverForce. I suppose I could check it out for you.” She felt torn, unwilling to believe Richard was involved, but wanting to find out for sure so the investigation could move on.
“There’s no need to do anything tonight. We’ve done all we can, and without more evidence there isn’t much urgency from either the Ministry or the police.”
She heard him stifle a yawn, and guilt jabbed her. He was doing his job, was doing what needed to be done to find a criminal, but resentment bubbled in her whenever he spoke of his suspicions.
With a conscious effort, she said warmly, “I’ll go in early tomorrow. If he gets in touch with you before I do, there’s no harm done. And if not, maybe I’ll be able to help.”
“I appreciate it.” He went on after a slight pause. “I understand this must be difficult for you. I don’t know Fleetham like you do, but the little I’ve seen of him, on the news and such, I’ve been impressed. That’s why we have to do this, to clear him of any possible involvement. I hope you realize that.”
June sighed. “I’m trying to. Honestly, I’m trying to.”
After a restless night, she rose early, and was at the RiverForce office well before eight. She resolutely refused to believe Richard had anything to do with a criminal enterprise, but she understood Alex had to follow up any lead, however slight. She powered on the computer and impatiently waited for it to boot up, then called up Richard’s schedule on the internal server. She phoned Alex on his cell and caught him as he was leaving home.
“According to his calendar, Richard should be in the office today.” She clicked backward through the dates. “It looks like he was here on Thursday—he had a meeting with Thomas, that fellow from RiverForce I told you about before—and he’s got a meeting with a couple of grad students at eleven this morning. But it doesn’t say anything about where he was this weekend.”
“I’ll let the office know. If we can’t get him on the phone I think we’ll send a team to wait for him. How long will you be there?”
“A couple of hours. I’m still retyping Fleetham’s speeches, and we’re supposed to have our monthly meeting next Sunday night. I need to prepare for that.”
“I won’t be part of the team interviewing
Fleetham, but I’ll let you know how it goes. Keep your head down, okay?”
“I will. This is so hard. The waiting, I mean. I want it to be over.”
“It will be soon, I promise.”
****
June concentrated intently on her work, putting aside any worries about the investigation, and came up for air around ten o’clock, craving a coffee. She bought a latte at the kiosk in the hall and stepped out into the Agora. Sitting against the wall, she basked in the heat reflecting off the stone exterior.
A voice trilled her name, and she turned her head to see all the magnificent glory of Tabitha Scala bearing down. She was resplendent in an emerald green tunic, black leggings and knee-high red leather boots. Her usual assortment of beads and bangles glittered and glimmered around her neck and wrists, and her mane of chestnut hair hung loose over her shoulders. “June!” she repeated delightedly. “How are you?”
It was impossible not to appreciate the sight. “I love your outfit.”
Tabitha waved a dismissive hand, bracelets jingling musically. “Are you sure you’re all right? You are rather pale.”
“It’s been a rough few days.” And today would likely be no better.
“Of course it has, sweetie. I can’t stop thinking about that poor man. And how easily it could have been your fellow! If they hadn’t switched their on call days, it might have been him.”
“Stop it.” June snapped. “A man was killed, was murdered. Isn’t that enough? Do you have to be so...so ghoulish about it?”
Tabitha pressed a be-ringed hand against her breast, a wounded look on her face. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
June took a mental pace back from the edge of her anger. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“You know what you need? You need a holiday.” Tabitha nodded, immensely pleased at the idea. “You should get out of the city. Where did you go recently? Where you met your young man?”
“Longworth Mountain.”
“Yes, Longworth Mountain. You should go back there for a few days.”
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