Pausing, I squat down and touch my finger to the dark, tarry liquid and hold it up to the sunlight. It isn’t tar.
It’s blood.
As soon as the reality hits me, I cover my mouth. Part of me wants to wail. Not because it’s blood, but because I don’t know whose blood it is. I frantically wipe my hand on my pants and scan the area. I shift into tracker mode and follow the blood trail deeper into the forest until a foul stench slams into my nose. Something rotting. A cross between iron, feces, and old garbage.
My stomach lurches at the familiar smell of death.
Up ahead, a dark mound lies in the shadows. I freeze, not sure what to do. I rise up on tippy toes for a better look but can’t make out anything. Wish I had my binoculars. My hands shake and my stomach lurches as I inch forward. No matter how many times I’ve come across a dead carcass, the smell gets to me every time.
Gagging, I cover my nose with my shirt and breathe through my mouth. I’m relieved to see it’s a dead animal. From it’s massive size and dark fur, it appears to be a bear. A dead animal I can take. Just not a human.
I circle the carcass wide, maintaining a good distance. The bear’s mouth is wide open with its tongue hanging out to one side, as if surprised. Flies buzz in and out of its mouth, searching for a place to land. A frozen snarl on his lips.
That’s when I recognize the scar and white tuft of fur.
My heart sinks.
Simon.
“Damn it!” I hiss, pressing the heels of my hands against my forehead and shaking my head. I kick a log. Why Simon? Of all the bears, why did it have to be him? Without warning, a tear slides free, and I drop to my knees and stare into Simon’s deep brown eyes, once full of life. I knew I should have kept better tabs on him.
To me, he was a friend. To them, meat. A trophy. Another notch on their sick hunting belts.
I think of the Native American prayer Tommy taught me. The one Dad and I always recited for any dead animals we came across. “May the warm winds of heaven blow softly upon your house. May the Great Spirit bless all who enter there. May your moccasins make happy tracks in many snows, and may the rainbow always touch your shoulder.”
I sit still for a minute and let the breeze whisper a goodbye. The only thing I can do for Simon now is find out who did this horrid thing. Before checking him for clues, I tie a bandana over my nose and mouth to block out the stench. Batting at flies, I scan Simon’s body for evidence. A gaping wound marks his neck. A single gunshot.
I quickly scan the area. No shells or other signs of anything odd. Someone smart collected and removed any evidence. Tilting my head back, I scan the treetops and spot the remains of an elevated camouflage stand. I shimmy up the tree like a monkey and inspect the small platform. A few pieces of donut and corn kernels scatter along the top.
Someone lured and hunted the bear from here.
I climb back down and approach Simon. I can’t help but wonder what kind of person kills a bear, not for meat or its hide, but as a trophy. Then leaves it to rot. I’m not against hunting as long as it’s legal, respectful to nature, and not wasted. Dad says sometimes the populations have to be managed in order to be sustained. But that’s why we have hunting laws and specific limits.
This kill is what forest rangers call a “want and waste.”
I cover Simon with branches and leaves. Other than that, there’s nothing else to do.
It’s not until I’m about a mile away that my emotions boil over. I try to grab hold of a branch as my legs crumble underneath me. Sitting on an old stump, I bury my face in my hands and let my body tremble. Scenes of my time with Simon run through my head. Part of me wants to punch something, but the other piece just wants to melt down and give up on all this.
I wrap my arms around my stomach and soothe myself by rocking.
If Al and Billy killed this bear for fun, what else would they do? I try not to let my mind consider what they might have done with Dad and refocus.
The only positive thing to come of poor Simon is that now I have proof these guys are poaching. Carl can’t set these guys free now.
Survival Skill #22
When traveling in densely wooded areas, hiking with a partner is much safer than being alone.
I speed down the highway and enter the town limits, passing derelict billboards, abandoned gas stations, and fading street signs. Once I reach the main strip, Luci practically slides into a parking space. Without ripping off my helmet, I bolt towards the Carl’s office.
Before I reach the police station, I spot Mr. Fields standing outside his store under a grand reopening banner and a revamped front with new windows, sparkly paint job, and a shiny, red sign. He smiles at me and waves. “Grace, want to come in for some tea? It’s my reopening!”
I stop in front of the open doors and catch my breath, taking note of his renovations: new hardwood floors, new shelving stocked with merchandise, and even an old-fashioned popcorn machine. The smell of fresh paints teases my nose. Looks like he finally got the money to stay open. Guess some things can turn around when you least expect them to. “Can’t today, Mr. Fields, but congrats on the new look.”
He wipes his hands on his apron. “Thanks. It’s about time us small town folks caught us a break. No matter what your daddy said, our town needed a change.” The hair on my neck stands on end at his random comment. He catches himself and turns red with embarrassment. “Sorry, Grace. That was out of line.” He spins around and leaves before I can respond.
I try to let his comment roll off my back as I sprint the rest of the way to Carl’s. But for some reason, it bothers me even though I know it probably shouldn’t. I mean, who says that kind of crap to the daughter of a missing person. Especially about someone who loved this town the way Dad did. He wanted the town to thrive, he just didn’t think strip malls and chain restaurants was the right answer.
I guess it’s true: dumb people say the darndest things.
The inappropriate comment slips out of my head as soon as I round the corner. I yank open the dinging door, yelling. “Captain!”
Bernice jumps to her feet and presses her hand against her chest. “Good heavens, Grace! You scared me!” She checks me out and hands me a tissue to wipe my face. “Sit down, child. I’ll get you something to drink.”
I flop down in a new leather chair in the linoleum-lined waiting area. “New furniture?”
Bernice rushes over with a paper cone full of cool water. “Don’t you just love it? Finally adding a woman’s touch to this place.”
“Looks good.” After taking a swig, I wipe my mouth on my sleeve before speaking more clearly. “Bea, I need to see the captain. Is he in?”
She points out the window. “Here he comes now.”
I peek through the mini-blinds and spot Carl and Wyn walking along the sidewalk. Carl’s the dad Wyn never had, and Wyn’s the son Carl always wanted. Guess having Skyler worked out for both of them.
Wyn opens the door for Carl and trails close behind him. They both look surprised to see me. Wyn mutters, “Hey, G.”
I smile back. Thank God Wyn’s here. If anyone will back me up on this case, it’s him.
“What happened to you?” Wyn raises his eyebrows when he spots me, all dirty and haggard.
I realize how haggard I look. My pants are wet, and my boots are muddy. “Nothing. Why?”
“So dressing to impress then.”
I force out a chuckle. “I think you get funnier everyday, Wyn.”
He looks proud of himself. “I try.”
“Obviously not hard enough.” I turn to Carl. “Captain, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Carl removes his baseball hat and hangs it on the rack. “Grace, I don’t have time to play P.I. with you today. Believe it or not, I have a slew of other cases that need my immediate attention. Cases that are still open.”
I barrel on as if I didn’t hear him. “You have two men in custody, and I have evidence that will help you lock them up for good. Proof they’re
poaching illegally.”
Wyn moves directly behind me in the doorway. I find it hard to concentrate with him standing so close to me. Puffs of his breath stroke my neck, and every now and then, his arm brushes against me. Part of me just wants to spin around and hug him. To tell him I’m sorry. That I should have let him help me all along. That I want his help now. Maybe even that I kinda want him back. I block out the thoughts.
Carl passes by us and plops down behind his desk as if I’m exhausting him. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”
Wyn touches my back. “Go ahead, Grace.”
I clear my thoughts and start to tell Captain everything that has happened in chronological order. At least the rated G version. The gunshots, talking to Les, and the cola can connection.
After all that, I stop to take a breath and Wyn speaks up. “So you have proof they littered? That’ll get at least two days and a hundred-dollar fine.”
I turn around and glare at him. “Thanks Watson. But I’m not finished.” I take in a deep breath to steady my heartbeat and describe the state of the shack along with the hunting platform built so close to the station.
Carl frowns. “Station 19? You went all the way up there. Today?”
Wyn interrupts again. “G, that’s a hike. You shouldn’t be traipsing all over the forest by yourself.”
I widen my eyes and purse my lips, hoping he can take a hint to shut the hell up. “I wasn’t traipsing. I was hiking.”
He frowns. “Same thing.”
“No, Wyn!” My voice is louder than I mean it to be. “It’s not the same thing!”
Wyn’s eyes widen as Carl holds his hand up. “Back off, Wyn. I’ll handle this.” Carl pats my shoulder. “Take it easy, Grace. Now tell me what you were doing hiking that far up in the mountains. Alone.”
“I was following a hunch.”
Carl frowns but tries to stay calm. He dismisses me with his hand. “Shoot, teens don’t have hunches, cops do. I told you, this is my business.”
My fists perch on my hips. “This is not about my hiking patterns or my age bracket, Captain. Is anyone going to let me finish? Because I’m not done yet.”
“Sorry. You’re right. Go on then. Tell me what evidence you have.” Carl leans back in his chair as Wyn pretends to lock his lips with an imaginary key. “Real evidence.”
“I found something. Something bad. Something awful.” I pause trying to figure out how to phrase what I’m going to say next so it has the biggest impact. “I found a dead bear. Shot for fun.”
Carl appears a bit shocked but before he can say anything, Wyn comes close to me with a sincere look on his face. He touches my hand. “Are you sure?”
My anger rises again. He knows how much I need Carl to believe me. Why is Wyn interrupting so much? All he’s doing is causing Carl to doubt me. He’s supposed to be on my side. I yank my hand away. “Yes, Wyn, I’m sure. I think I can tell if a bear is dead or not. Believe it or not, I’m not as dumb as you are about the woods.”
Wyn’s face turns red. “Chill out. Geez, what’s wrong with you?”
I snap back, growing angrier by the minute. “You are! I don’t have time to answer two people. Now do you mind if I talk to the real detective around here?”
Carl stands up and moves between us. “Grace, he’s only trying to help. Now tell me more. Did you get any pictures of the carcass?”
I silently curse myself. “Well … no, I … I guess I was so freaked out by it all … I forgot.”
Wyn paces the room. “You forgot? Great. How are we supposed to help you then?”
Carl gives Wyn his “stay out of it” police look and puts his attention back on me. “Okay, let’s think through this. Did you get samples or other evidence from the scene that will help me hold them?”
My hands tremble as I shake my head. How could I forget something that important?
Carl wipes his face with a green handkerchief. “Then there’s not much I can do. These guys have been in custody since yesterday so without concrete evidence, we can’t prove they did anything anyway.”
“Wait, you can’t release them! They threatened me, and I want to press charges. That should keep them locked up. Right?”
Wyn frowns at me. I notice how the vein in his neck throbs. “What? You didn’t tell me this.”
Carl puts his fists on the table. “That’s quite an accusation, young lady.”
I nod emphatically and press on, ignoring his expressions. “The big one came into the store. Wyn saw him. I heard them talking at the diner about hunting and followed them to see if they had anything to do with my dad and—.”
Carl cuts me off before I can finish. His face turns beet red. “You what?”
I cower. “I’m sorry. I was trying to help. But they saw me out in the woods and threatened me.”
“What?” Wyn rubs both hands over his face, seemingly stressed. “When was this? What happened?”
Pulling down the collar of my t-shirt, I point to the scratches on my neck. “They had a knife to my throat.”
“Those are some serious allegations, young lady.” Carl narrows his eyes at me as if I’m lying. “When you came and saw me last week after trekking around the woods, you had scratches all over your face and body.”
I can see where this is going. “I’m telling the truth.”
Wyn studies me for a moment, looking directly in my eyes. I nod slightly to let him know I’m being honest. Finally, he faces Carl. “Maybe you and Les can hike out to the station and get some evidence to nail these guys. I don’t think Grace would lie about something this serious.”
Carl eyes me for a couple more seconds. Then he takes a deep breath and exhales as he pats Wyn’s shoulder and addresses me. “Fine. I’ll take your statement to hold these guys for another day. I’m heading out of town tonight, but I’ll call and see if Les can get up there first thing in the morning.”
My body is shaking like I’ve had too much coffee. This time, I roar at both of them. “No! We have to go now!” Carl glares at me, and Wyn’s mouth hangs open. Tears burn the back of my eyes again, and I lower my voice back down to a whisper. “What I mean is, you have to go tonight. The evidence could be gone by tomorrow. This could be a link to my dad.”
Carl raises his voice slightly and deepens it to reflect his authority. “I can’t just drop my commitments because you tell me too. I said I would get Les on it. It’s the best I can do on short notice.”
I look out the window and spot a couple of raindrops trickling down the glass. “I won’t let you blow this off.”
He flexes his jaws. “Grace Wells, you are pushing where you don’t want to push. You will stay out of this and let Les handle it or I will throw your butt in the slammer for a night. Just for interfering. You and me, we made a deal.”
I chew my nails, knowing I’ve stepped way over the line—so far over for the line, I can’t even see where that line is any more. Even though my head warns me to stop, I can’t hold back. There’s no one else willing to fight for Dad, so I’ll take Carl on if I have too. “What about your end of the deal? Have you tested the bag yet?”
Wyn looks back and forth between us, contemplating whose side to jump on.
Carl squints his eyes. “It’s at the lab now.”
“What’s taking so long?”
He huffs in frustration, kinda like a bull warning me he’s about to charge. “Oh, so you’re a forensic scientist now too? As much as you want to take this out on me, I’m not in control of the goddamn lab!”
“Fine. Then I’ll meet my end of the deal when you meet yours.” As soon as the words escape my lips, I know I’m toast. I cower, wishing I could blend into that wall.
Carl screams. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense!” He slams both fists down on top of his desk.
I bite back tears. This time, my mouth falls open and my eyes widen. I’ve never seen Carl get this mad. Never heard him yell. Not like this. Not at me Not at anyone.
Wyn steps forward. “Captain—”
I bite my quivering lip and nod. The room blurs a little as tears pool in my eyes.
His voice bellows in the small room. “For some stupid reason, I’m still making silly deals with you. A damn kid. You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, and I won’t have it anymore. Now you better get out of here before you tick me off even more.”
Without another word, I storm out of the office, purposely pounding the floor, leaving a track of mud as I bolt out the front door. When I clear the corner, tears tumble down my cheeks. I quickly wipe my fists across my face. Carl thinks I’m being dramatic. Irrational. Maybe even making all this up because I’m “grieving.” What do I have to do to get him to believe me? Why has he given up on my dad, his friend, so easily?
Just as I’m mounting my bike, Wyn jogs up. “G, wait up!”
I scowl at him. “Go away … traitor.”
He looks confused. “Traitor? If I recall correctly, you’re the one holding out on me. Why didn’t you tell me about those guys?”
I shrug and push away from him. “I just didn’t. Why were you questioning me back there? Now Carl thinks I’m crazy.”
Wyn rubs his temples. “Uh, news flash, I know your crazy. But to be honest, I’m thinking your grade A attitude and that big chip on your shoulder didn’t do you any favors.” He pauses and swallows as he stares at me. “And I’m starting to wonder if you have any marbles left.”
I hear myself gasp a little. “You don’t believe me?” I close my eyes and let my shoulders fall forward, suddenly feeling more alone than ever. My voice barely breaks the surface of my lips. “So you’re turning your back on me now too? Figures.”
His close-shaven face softens, and his eyebrows turn down in concern. “That’s not fair. I’m trying to help you, but if you don’t let me, what else can I do? You’re fighting me every step of the way. Lashing out at the police. You can’t tell Carl how to do his job.”
Untraceable Page 13