Poppy McVie Mysteries: Books 1-3 (The Poppy McVie Box Set Series)

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  Now for the hard part. I leaned inward, shifting my weight to my bad leg, and lifted my other leg. Pain shot up my backside, but I held me leg in the air, breathing. Okay. You can do this. Getting my arm through first would be better. Then lean and roll. That should work.

  Slowly, I lifted my outside arm. Almost there. As I pulled my arm through the wires, my coat shifted and my compass necklace dropped and hit the wire. Kazap! A jolt zipped through my body, seizing my muscles. I jerked upward and smacked the upper wire. Kazap! A groan of agony escaped my lips.

  I froze, stuck between the wires, my eyes locked on Rocky in the chair, my heart jackhammering inside my chest.

  I huffed, trying to settle my nerves. Breathe. Breathe. You can do this. Just stay still. Maybe I hadn’t woken him. I waited, my back arched, between the wires, one leg in, one leg out. The necklace dangled from my neck, inches from the wire. Slowly, I shifted my weight to my good leg, reached up and tucked the charm into my mouth to get it away from the wire.

  I turned my head back to check on Rocky. “Well, whaddaya know,” he said, calmly looking over his shoulder. “The brave little rabbit’s come right into the fox’s den.”

  Shit! I rolled out of the wires, hitting the back of my hand on the upper one, giving me one more jolt. I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled into the dark night.

  “Run, little rabbit. Run!” Rocky shouted after me followed by a laugh that sent a shiver through to my bones.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I ran into a veil of pitch dark as fast as my bum leg would take me, down the hill, into the pines. I kept running. The laughter faded behind me, but no gunshots. He didn’t follow. But still, I had to get away. Something about that laugh frightened me to my core.

  Finally, I came across a fallen log and slumped down next to it. Running in the dark was dangerous. I would catch my breath, wait for dawn, then circle back to the rendezvous location.

  Adrenaline zipped through my veins—the ultimate drug. My leg didn’t hurt, I didn’t feel the cold, and my brain shifted into overdrive.

  I snugged my coat tight around my neck. That laugh. He wasn’t alarmed or worried. He was amused. I don’t know what I’d been thinking, trying to talk to him. When he caught us kissing, he could have kept up the guide act, keeping it legal, without risking anything. We had no hard evidence against him. Yet he pulled his gun. It didn’t make sense. What was Rocky thinking?

  Put yourself in his shoes, my dad would say. Why would Rocky pull his sidearm on Dalton, then shoot me in the leg, but not shoot just now, when I was right in front of him again? None of this made any sense. Had I startled him awake and he didn’t think to shoot until I was out of sight? No, he’d shouted for me to run. As if he were actually cheering me on, wanting me to get away. But why?

  The eastern sky showed no sign of the sun, so I hunkered down. Wandering in the wilderness in the dark was not a good idea. Everyone worries about nocturnal predators, but no one thinks of the more common dangers, like getting stuck in the eye by a branch. Yep. Better to stay put until dawn.

  In autumn, the Alaskan woods are quiet, peaceful. So unlike the jungle, where the night sounds are louder than the day. If Rocky decided to follow me, I’d hear him coming.

  When the sun finally arrived, a light rain started to fall. Great. The bandage around my thigh had come loose. Fresh blood oozed down my leg, mingling with the dark, gooey dried stuff. My thigh was swollen and red. I winced as I tightened the bandage then got to my feet. I had to get back to Dalton.

  I pushed through the thicket and a patch of devil's club, avoiding the spiny barbs that line the stems and undersides of their massive leaves. There was a rustle ahead. I dropped to my knees. Waiting, hidden. There it was again. Rocky wouldn’t be that careless. Not to make that kind of noise. Easy now, I slowly rose to my feet.

  About twenty yards away stood a bull moose, staring at me, stone-still save for the sideways slide of his jaw, crunching branches with his teeth. His rack must have been at least a sixty inch spread with sharp tines. The massive antlers looked like thorny paddles. Absolutely majestic. He sized me up as I sized him up, two beings meeting unexpectedly in the woods.

  I’ve seen moose before, but to face off with one, alone, made my knees weak. God he was huge. A half ton of muscle and, this time of year, oozing with testosterone. At the shoulder he stood taller than me, probably six feet. He took a step, shifted his gaze, turning slightly to the side, showing his flank. The flap of skin hanging from his chin, the bell I thought it was called, swung with his movement.

  “Okay, moose. I’m backing away,” I said in a calm, soothing voice. “I’m backing away.”

  His ears perked up, twitched. One of them turned to the side. His tongue flicked in and out, licking his lips like a cow. He took a couple more steps toward me, a moose mosey, tilting his head back and forth, ever so slightly, causing his huge antlers to swing side to side.

  “Look at you,” I said, letting my mouth spit out whatever words came to mind as I slowly stepped backward. “All handsome, big boy. I’m going to back away, okay? I don’t want any trouble.”

  Drawing his head back, he snorted, his breath a tiny cloud of mist in the cold air. He looked like he was posing for a National Geographic photo, though his fur was matted from the rain.

  “That’s okay. I’m having a bad hair day, too, my friend.”

  I took another step back, my foot caught on a root, and my bad leg gave. I stumbled and crashed into some brush.

  The moose jumped backward and spun around, his hind side facing me now.

  I managed to get back to my feet, but not without a scrape across my face. Warm blood ran down my cheek.

  The moose watched over his shoulder with wary eyes. My eyes fixed on the massive hump on his back, pure muscle to power his front legs. He could run thirty-five miles an hour, knocking down half the forest as he went. He might not have the sharp canines of a bear or wolf, but that rack on his head could gouge with the force of a bulldozer.

  His eyes intent on me now, he slowly turned and walked toward me, one carefully placed hoof at a time.

  “Nothing to see here, Mr. Moose. Just a klutzy woman with a bum leg. Nothing to be alarmed about. I’ll be running along now. See you later, then.”

  He came to a halt, his fur standing up, ears pinned back, and his head dropped low. With a snort, his front legs slapped at the ground and he charged.

  Holy shit!

  I ducked behind two trees as his antlers rammed the trunks. Crash!

  I stepped right. He reared back and plowed into the trees again. I shifted left and staggered to another tree, spun around it, turning in another direction. He was right behind me. The crack of his antlers smacking the tree ripped through the forest. I lunged toward the next tree, thrashing through a patch of devil's club, and spun around. The moose backed away and took off into the brush.

  My heart hammered in my chest. I huffed and huffed, trying to catch my breath. Damn, that was close.

  My head spun. I sat down in the moss. “Damn,” I said out loud.

  All right, McVie. You’re all right.

  My face burned, all the way down my neck. I reached up and felt the thorns stuck in my skin from the devil's club. Great. Just great.

  Fresh blood soaked my pant leg. The bandage had come loose again. I tried to tighten it, but my hands were shaking. Dammit!

  Deep breath. I worked the ends of the bandage and managed to get the bleeding to stop, but I’d ripped it open and made it worse.

  I looked around. Nothing but the forest deep.

  Dalton’s voice echoed in my head, Bear gets your scent, he won’t look so cuddly.

  I got to my feet again. Now, which way was north? I hobbled downward, toward the lake. From there, I’d get my bearings.

  It’s this way. No, that way.

  I sat down. My head dizzy. I needed to rest. Just for a minute. It was cold. So cold. My teeth were chattering.

  I need to keep moving.

&nb
sp; The rain was coming down harder now, feeling like pellets stinging my face. The pattering turned to a steady whoosh as it penetrated the canopy. Droplets ran down my neck. My rain hat hung on my back, the cord tight at my throat, rubbing on the rash where I had fallen against the devil’s club. I slung it up atop my head, cinched down the chin strap, and drew in a long breath. Which way?

  The forest in every direction was dark and misty. I couldn’t see the sun to gauge direction. All right. The downward slope headed for the lake. That meant I needed to stay at this level for five hundred yards or so. Not go up or down. That would take me on a course to circle back to Dalton. I could do this.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, over moss-covered logs, through the blueberry bushes, across a patch of skunk cabbage, I went. What was a little dizziness? I could see. I could find my way.

  I could do it on my own. Alone.

  Alone.

  Maybe Martin had been right. This alone crap was overrated. My hand went to the compass necklace at my neck. Oh Chris. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

  I laughed out loud. I was holding a fake little compass. Oh Chris. If you only knew. I have lost my way.

  Every part of the forest dripped water. My pants were soaked. My socks sloshed in my boots. My hair was heavy on my back. I should’ve been freezing. But I wasn’t.

  Is that what happened when you became hypothermic? You no longer felt cold. Yes. I remember. Then a feeling of well-being, euphoria even. Was I shivering? No. Wasn’t that what happened?

  My leg must have been dragging. It caught on a stick and I collapsed to the ground.

  Must get up.

  Dalton can’t be far.

  I planted my hands on the earth and pushed myself upright. One step. Another step.

  I was back on the ground again, my face in the moss. It felt soft. Nice.

  I could sleep.

  “Thank God I found you.” A face, inches from mine. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  I tried to open my eyes.

  “Are you all right? Poppy? Talk to me.”

  The throbbing of my head brought me around. I was in Alaska. In the woods.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Dalton. That was his name. I tried to sit up, but my head spun. A wave of nausea came over me and I leaned over and retched.

  He held my hair back, then pulled me to him. “You’ve gotten too cold,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have let you go.”

  I remember. The bush plane. The lodge. Joe smoking that cigar.

  “No cigars.”

  A bear. Charging toward me. I won’t shoot. I can’t shoot.

  “Poppy. Poppy! C’mon, stay with me.”

  Dalton. A kiss. “Rocky gun. Run. Run.”

  “Here, drink some water.”

  He held a plastic bag at my mouth. I drank.

  “There now,” he said. “Just rest. Get warm.”

  Dalton. Holding me. Warm now.

  I blinked my eyes open. Dalton was holding me tight.

  “You feeling better?”

  I nodded. “Did I sleep?” My arms felt heavy.

  “Yeah.” His hand went to my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, I think.”

  He smoothed my hair back from my face, plucked a couple twigs from it. “What the hell happened?”

  Was it dark already again?

  “Poppy? Tell me what happened.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Looks like you got into the devil’s club.”

  My hand went to my neck. “Yeah. I could use some tweezers.”

  “I’ll help. I didn’t want to do it while you were asleep and risk waking you.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “Let’s see that leg first.” He pulled back the bandage and winced.

  “That bad, huh?”

  He gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ve seen worse. A little bleeding is good. Flushes it out.”

  “Right,” I said. He was a bad liar.

  He took hold of my chin to turn my head and get a good look at the thorns in my neck. “You just can’t keep yourself out of trouble, can you?” He was trying to sound funny, keep it light, keep my spirits up, but it fell flat.

  “Just get them out.”

  “All right. Hold still.”

  With the patience of a neurosurgeon, he carefully plucked away while intermittently scanning behind me for any sign of Rocky. “So who made the first move? You or the plant?”

  He said it with such a serious tone, a smile crept across my face.

  “It was a moose, actually. I tried to back away, but he charged.”

  Dalton sat back, his eyebrows up. “You’re kidding.”

  I nodded. “Scared the living shit out of me.”

  He pulled another thorn. “I bet.”

  “Nothing more badass in these woods than a bull moose all doped up on testosterone.”

  He gave me a frown. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Ow!” I pulled away.

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  “Seriously, a moose in rut can—”

  “Rocky,” he said, serious now. “He let you run away.”

  “I told you. I knew it. He doesn’t want to kill us. We should try talking to him again.”

  Dalton was shaking his head before I finished the sentence. “No. Don’t you see? He let you go. All the while he was scanning for me.”

  “What? You think he sees only you as a real threat? I’m going to try not to be insulted by that. But it only makes my point. I’ll go talk to him.”

  “No,” he said, more sternly than usual. “Listen to me. He could leave. He could go get in the plane right now and go. Leave us to die. Why hasn’t he?”

  “Because, like I said, he’s no killer. He’s got to make a point.” I couldn’t possibly sound convincing. I wasn’t sure myself.

  “Okay, but he could send someone else to get us later. Leave us out here for a while. That would make a point.”

  “He could I suppose, but he’d be vulnerable getting to the plane, leaving the camp. We could ambush him.”

  “Not really that risky. He has all the weapons. We have none. We’ve been out in the cold for two nights. We’re tired. You’re wounded.”

  “Okay, so maybe he’s scared. Maybe he’s not able to assess the situation as rationally as you can.”

  “No. He’s smart. And arrogant. Didn’t you hear him laughing?”

  I nodded. That was some creepy laughing.

  “No,”—he shook his head—“there’s another reason.” He examined my neck. He’d pulled the last of the thorns. “Wait here,” he said and went into the woods. He came back with a leaf from the devil’s club plant, crushed it in his hands. “This should soothe the burn,” he said. “As ironic as that may be.” He gently rubbed it on my neck.

  “Dalton, what are you saying? What other reason?”

  “It’s not me he’s focused on. To him, I’m a dopey boy from Oklahoma. Boring. Inconsequential. But you. Little Miss Sharpshooter. All cocky and capable and sexy as hell.” He paused. “I mean, what man wouldn’t want to—”

  “Are you saying this is all about him having the hots for me? About him trying to impress me?” No way. That didn’t make sense either.

  “I’m saying he isn’t your everyday trafficker, selling buckskins out of his trunk. Who knows what he did in the lower forty-eight. Maybe he’s a felon. Maybe he didn’t fit in. Maybe he just couldn’t quite get his shit together. Snubbed by the ladies. Couldn’t keep a job. Who knows. But I do know one thing. We shouldn’t underestimate how dangerous he is. This isn’t like Ray Goldman.”

  “What? Ray Goldman was on our most-wanted list.”

  “Yeah, because orcas are high profile animals. But Ray was a fisherman. Yes, you saw him as a kidnapper, a killer. But in his own mind, he was just another fisherman.” Dalton lo
oked around, over his shoulder, then back at me, frowning. “With Rocky, it’s different.” His face took on a shadow of concern. “For him, it’s all about the hunt.”

  My stomach dropped and the cold air seemed to envelope me. “Are you saying—?”

  “I’m saying that out here, for Rocky, it’s a whole different world. Out here he’s in his element. Out here, he’s the apex predator.” Dalton looked me square in the eyes. “And you’re a little rabbit.”

  My whole body went cold. Dalton was right.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  My palms got sweaty and my head light. “This isn’t good,” I said. “Not. Good.”

  Dalton watched me, letting it sink in.

  “I can’t believe I got us into this. I should’ve known. I should have seen. Back at the lodge. He heard us talking that night. Or, I don’t know, what I said to Townsend about him. He seemed so meek, so nerdy. Who would’ve thought? I mean, he wouldn’t even make eye contact. I figured he—or maybe he…maybe he didn’t suspect us at all.” I looked Dalton in the eyes. “If I hadn’t kissed you and—”

  “What? No.” He sighed. “This isn’t your fault.” He turned away, his jaw tight. “It’s mine. I should’ve known better.”

  What? You mean you didn’t want—

  Dalton jerked his head to the left. He’d heard something.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “Dammit,” he said, his eyes now on the sky.

  Then I heard it too. The drone.

  “Get him to focus on you,” Dalton said.

  I had a pretty good idea what Dalton was thinking. I got to my feet and stormed toward the drone, my fists in the air, shouting at it. A crazed woman was not a character I had to fake right now.

  The drone dropped nearly to my level and hovered about twenty yards away.

  I stumbled, for effect, then bent over and propped my hand on my hip as though I were trying to catch my breath.