Porter was accused of falsifying his credentials and his research. He was also accused of plagiarism and embezzlement and denied his pension. Though criminal charges were never brought, the article says he’s been struggling financially ever since, acting as an independent guide and tracker to make ends meet. It shows a picture of his wife. I click on it and am sent out to another article, “Wife Dies in Wolf Attack.”
My stomach sinks as I read the article about how Porter and his wife were working with the red wolves. One of the males attacked her when she entered the pin. I think back. That must’ve been the one red wolf attack he mentioned in the beginning. I don’t see how he could like, let alone research, wolves after something like that. I wonder if Sweeney or Reynolds knows about this. I print out the article for later.
Next, I look up eBuild, the real estate company that is being affected by the wolves. I scan down the board of directors. The company has won tons of awards for building sustainable properties, so at least they seem environmentally conscious. I page down through their annual report last year scanning their financials, mergers, and partnerships. Digging some more, I find the parent company of eBuild is Cardinal, Inc., run by a Mandy Smith. She’s a CEO-at-large, whatever that means. When I click on Cardinal’s properties, there’s a list of about forty states where they own either mountain or beach locations. Mandy Smith must be a rich lady. No wonder she’s at large. She probably ran off to an exotic beach somewhere and is buying property from poor country folk.
Then I Google myself. Which is a huge mistake.
I see an article, “Grace or Curse? Local Teen Finds Endangered Wolf Dead.” There are four pictures with the article. One is a bad picture of me, probably from middle school because I’m still wearing braces. There’s a picture showing the black bears caged in the woods with a caption about bear-part trafficking. There’s one of a dead red wolf, and finally, one of my dad smiling with Carl, Les and the man who I know as Mo’s dad. They are standing in front of a pile of gear, obviously taken after some bust a few years ago. Besides Les, out of all the pictures, I’m pretty much the only person still alive.
My stomach sinks as I read the article, wondering if I am really a curse to everything in the area. The coverage will never end; and, unless I leave this place and start fresh, everything that’s happened here will follow me forever.
No matter what, I’ll never fit in.
I wonder how they got the story on the wolves. I didn’t think Katie was making anything public just yet, and I know Sweeney is waiting on autopsy reports, so surely he wouldn’t go to the press.
I toggle to the other window that is still open showing the picture of Jerry Porter standing next to a caged wolf that was probably just rescued. My eyes narrow. The only other person who could leak this story and who has something to gain is Porter.
And now that I know he has a motive in getting revenge for his wife, I have to tell Sweeney.
I quickly close all the windows, but not before taking one last look at my middle school picture. “Ugh. At least they could use a better photo.”
When I glance up, Birdee is staring at me. “You’re just torturing yourself.”
I point to my screen. “So you knew about this?”
She nods. “Yup. Tossed it out with all my other garbage. Why do you read that negative crap anyway? It only hurts you.”
“Maybe I deserve it.”
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for yourself. Your daddy raised you better than that.”
I sigh. “Sorry.”
She places her knitting needles in her lap. “Chicken, you don’t deserve bad things because you stood up for what was right. I don’t care who it involved or hurt. You weren’t doing anything wrong.”
I point to the computer. “According to the Smoky Review, ‘Grace is cursed.’”
She waves her hand and starts knitting again. “You have to do what’s right no matter what some stupid newspaper says. No matter what they think.”
I smile. “Dad used to say that.”
“He was a smart man.” Birdee winks. “Raised by an even smarter woman.”
I lie down on my side and cuddle the square knit pillow decorated in bears. Another one of Birdee’s masterpieces. “You think I’ll ever get past all this?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” She holds a little sweater up to Petey. “I do know one thing. You ain't responsible for the demise of this town. People just need someone to lash out at. We had some corrupt people; and unfortunately, they aren’t here to take the heat. Bunch of cowards if you ask me. Dead or not.”
“No matter what I do, I just can’t win.”
“What matters is that you play the game, and you don’t let losers intimidate you. Besides, you can’t even begin to win if you don’t play.”
I lay on my back with my hands behind my head. “I just want to make Dad proud. To make a difference like he did.”
She nods. “Good. And you will when it’s right. You’re only sixteen. He was fifty-four. And trust me, when he was sixteen, he wasn’t saving bears the way you did. I believe he was only saving ladies at the time.” She chuckles to herself as if remembering something funny. “Give yourself time to save the world. It’s hard to do when you’ve lived less than 6,000 days.”
“Well, I guess I have some time to think about it. Without the wolf project, there’s nothing to do but think until school starts up again.”
“Why don’t you try relaxing for once? Get out of your head and have some fun. Go on a date with Wyn.”
When I open my mouth, she butts in. “And don’t think I don’t know about Mo. Your Mom told me everything, and it sounds like he was a total hottie.”
I smile, feeling sad and happy all at once thinking of him. “He was. You would have liked him.”
“Well, he saved your father, so he’s high up on my list, bless his soul. How a kid so young could have the balls to stand up to those men. For your father and his. They don’t make guys like that anymore.”
I nod as tears fill my eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” My throat tightens at the thought of never finding anyone like Mo. Of not ever seeing him again.
Birdee gets up and sits next to me. “Chicken, it’s time to move past all this. The more you drag it along with you, the heavier it gets. Let it go. Hanging back with the dead keeps you from living.” Tears stream down my face as I think of Dad and Mo. She wipes my eyes with a handkerchief. “I know it’s hard. Believe me, I know. But the way I see it, we don’t have a choice, so why fight it?”
I hug Birdee and blow my nose.
Petey flies over and lands on my lap. I sniff and stroke his head. “What do you think, Petey? What should I do?”
Petey bobs his head. “Quit your crying.”
Birdee and I burst out laughing. She pulls off her glasses and thumps the little bird on the head. “Petey, that wasn’t nice. Those dang R-rated movies are ruining this bird.”
Petey cocks his head. “Oh, shut your mouth.”
We both crack up, and I immediately feel much better. Nothing like a good laugh to lift your spirit. I put out my finger for him to climb on.
“Boy, you got him right where you want him,” I say.
She smiles. “Petey says things we don’t want to hear. But most of them are true.”
He squawks. “The truth shall set you free.”
And with that he flies back to his perch. But for once, Petey has a point.
I need to get out of this funk and fly again.
No matter how hard it is, maybe it’s time I move on.
Survival Skill #19
Landmarks can be vital in determining where you are if you become lost or wind up stranded in unfamiliar surroundings.
After sleeping a whole day, I finally have my strength back and go down for breakfast.
Even though I cried myself to sleep thinking about Mo and Dad and everything Birdee said, for the first time in months, I feel like I have newfound hope. Today is a new day.
<
br /> But as soon as I see Birdee, the lightness that lifted me out of bed is replaced by the darkness of impending doom. She’s sitting at the table staring at her coffee mug. I stop and immediately think of Mom.
“What’s wrong?” I brace myself for something hard.
She looks up at me, her eyes red. “Agent Sweeney called this morning.”
I sit. Whenever Birdee has that look, I’ve learned it’s always best to not be on my feet. “And?”
She takes a sip of her coffee, and I think of Dad. It was always the first sound I’d hear in the mornings when coming down for breakfast. He’d be sitting where Birdee is, sipping coffee, and reading the paper.
Birdee sighs. “Evidently, Porter took the other team out to do more research.”
I lean forward. “What? But they shut the project down.”
She nods. “I know. Evidently Porter did it on his own. No one knows why, but they found out this morning. The kids never came back last night.”
I cover my mouth. “Oh my God. Was Wyn with them?”
She shakes her head. “No, he was with Skyler at the hospital.”
“Oh.” It’s the only time I’m happy he was with Skyler. “Well, thank God.” I sigh a huge breath of relief. “Do they think…?”
She answers before I finish my question. “They sent a search team out this morning and just found Madison and Big Mike. They’re at the hospital recovering. But Porter and Seth are still missing.”
I breathe the word, “Jesus.” I close my eyes and rub my temples. “Are they still looking?”
She tries to swallow a piece of bread. “Yes, but I think they’re thinking the worst.”
I jump up and grab my coat, then I stop and lean against the wall as the blood rushes to my head.
Birdee stands. “Wait a minute, where do you think you’re going?”
I sit down and wait for the dots to pass from my vision. “To the hospital. I need to see Madison and Big Mike.”
She grabs her keys. “I’ll drive.”
* * *
On the way to the hospital, Birdee and I sit quietly in the cab of her truck. The heater doesn’t seem to be working because my breath comes out in huge white puffs. I pull the bottom of my hood over my mouth. The chill of yesterday returns, and I wonder if I’ll ever be completely warm again.
I stare out the window at the snow melting. Poor Seth. I can’t help but feel guilty. I wasn’t very nice to him, and I certainly didn’t make things easy for him. But while Wyn kept me alive, Seth saved my life.
An hour later after creeping down the slippery mountain going ten miles per hour, Birdee finally pulls into the drop-off lane. I jump out and almost slip on the sidewalk. I grab the door to get my footing and then wave, “I’ll see you inside.”
As she pulls away, I run — or frankly, slide — into the hospital. The same pungent medical smell hits me when I push through the revolving door — bleach mixed with vinegar. I cover my burning nose. I hate places like this. Even though they save lives here, I’m always reminded of the ones who died. I’ve been here more than I’d like over the last few months. Besides for myself, I’ve been here with Tommy after the shooting, with Mom when she had her breakdown, and with Skyler for her foot. I can’t seem to get away from this place.
Instead of waiting for the elevator, I walk the two flights of stairs. People in white coats pass by me, not even acknowledging my presence. At the top, I stop to catch my breath. My legs feel shaky, and my head’s a bit foggy — all reminders that I could have died here, too. No matter how much I play it down, I’m lucky to be smelling anything at all.
I head for the nurse’s desk and grab the corner to support myself. “Excuse me, but I’m here to see Madison Connell and Mike Davis.”
The nurse who took care of me smiles. “When are you kids going to learn it’s cold outside?”
I force out a sorry excuse for a grin. “Seriously.”
She clicks on the keyboard and points down the hall. “They’re in a shared room recovering. Room 304 A and B.”
“Thanks.” I walk down the hall, trying to keep my eyes forward.
I hate seeing people in their beds, sick and coughing. Some are even dying. The whole scene gives me the creeps. I glance up at the wrong time and catch sight of an old man scooting down the hall. His backside hangs out of his gown as someone helps him into the bathroom. You’d think they’d resort to zippers or Velcro. It would save everyone a lot of embarrassment.
When I get to Room 304, I peek in. A sheet hanging on rings separates the room in half. Madison is closest to the door, so I assume Big Mike is on the other side of the partition.
She opens her eyes and mumbles softly. “Grace.”
It’s hard to believe it was just a day ago I was in the same place — my legs and arms aching, the bulky heating pads lying on top of my chilled body warming my organs back to life. I pull over a chair and sit next to her. That’s when I notice how red her eyes are from crying.
I point to the soggy meatloaf and green beans. “Don’t worry. I cried over that meatloaf, too.” She attempts a smile, but it falls short. I try again. “I can only assume you’re getting the same royal treatment as me.”
She sniffs and ignores my bad jokes. “Do you think he’s dead?”
The question comes out of nowhere. “Seth? No way. He’s too stubborn to be dead. He’ll be fine, you’ll see. He’s probably hiding so we all worry and then he can come back to a big welcoming scene.”
I don’t tell her what I really think. That even the best outdoorsmen die in these mountains from hypothermia. The survivors are just lucky. Like me.
She shivers a little. “I hope so.”
I tuck the blanket around her the way Wyn did for me. “What happened out there?”
Madison closes her eyes. “We found two more wolves dead. The same way. Coming back, Porter got turned around. It was awful. Somehow, Big Mike and I got separated from him and Seth. We hiked all night, never stopped once.” Tears start streaming down her face. “I thought we were going to die.”
I try not to cry. “I know how you felt. It’s scary.”
“I’m not going back out there. Ever. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s okay to feel that way. It might change in time.”
Her statement takes me back to the weeks after Dad died. The times I stood at the window, looking out at the wilderness I had once loved so much. How it had gone from a safe haven to a nightmare in such a short time. My haunted memories of holding Dad in my arms as he took his last breath, and the last time I saw Mo. Back then, it was all too much.
My breath catches in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, Madison is staring at me. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something.” I try to comfort her by sharing. “I was remembering saying the same thing to Mom after my dad died. I didn’t think I’d ever go in those woods again. Look at me now.”
She picks at the little tie on her gown. “I heard about that when I moved here. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” I quickly change the subject. “Did Porter tell you Katie cancelled the project yesterday?”
She frowns and sits up straighter. “No. He didn’t say a word about that. Just told us we were going back out. I was a bit surprised but figured he knew what he was doing. He’s a tracker.”
“Yeah, me too.” I keep my suspicions to myself for now.
“What will happen to the wolves?”
I pat her arm. “Katie said they’ll extract them and bring them back to the reserve. They’ll be safe there until spring.” The words sound good so for now I pretend to believe them.
She lays her head back. “Oh, good.”
A deep cough comes from behind the curtain. “Can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to sleep.” A big black hand pulls back the flimsy blue curtain. Big Mike is lying in a bed that’s way too short for him. His feet are bandaged and hanging over the end, and
one hand is wrapped in gauze. I know immediately why he’s so bandaged up. Frostbite.
I wheel over in between them on the stool. “Hey, Big Mike. How are you?”
He lays his head back. “Hey, Grace. What are you doing here?”
“I heard what happened. Wanted to be sure you guys were okay.” I shrug. “I guess I know how you feel.”
He stares ahead. “Well, I’m alive if that’s what you mean. But I may never play football again if my feet don’t heal.”
I try to cup his free hand, but his palm is twice the size of my whole hand. “That won’t happen. You’re too strong.”
He turns his face toward me. “Let’s hope so. I won’t know for several weeks.” He winces.
I can only imagine how bad his feet and hand must hurt. Dad always said frostbite was so painful.
I try to keep him positive. “You weren’t out there too long. The chance of you losing anything is slim.”
He stares at the ceiling again as his eyes water, like he’s willing God to hold back his tears. “They found Seth yet?”
I look down. “Not that I know of.” I look back up with confidence. “They will, though. It’s just a matter of time. He’s with Porter, so they should be fine.”
“Stupid kid. Too stubborn for his own good. I told him to stay with us, but after we found those wolves, he went ahead for some reason. Porter went after him, and then everything went to hell.”
My phone goes off. I read a text from Sweeney. Porter found. He’s alive and on way to hospital. No sign of Seth.
My heart sinks. This is not good news. “They found Porter.”
Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) Page 16