• • •
Ned awakened and saw Luna asleep beside him, illuminated by a small night light. He searched his memory, hoping to recall they dove into bed and had wild sex before falling asleep. But instead he remembered bidding each other good night in a tame and civilized manner, a strip of space between them, then she turned her back and settled at the edge of the bed. Now she lay facing him, shuddering, a sheen of sweat on her skin.
He sat up carefully, recalling Warren’s words. He hadn’t put it all together before he fell asleep, which had been almost immediately. But now he remembered her solid punch to Roland’s collarbone, and her similar attempt at Gunderman’s face. He decided to remove himself from her line of fire and rose from the bed, turned on the bedside lamp, and crossed the room.
“Luna!” he called, but she didn’t awaken. He called her again, and her breathing increased. Her hands twitched, her feet jerked, and her face contorted. It looked like torture, and he couldn’t stand it. He spotted a small embroidered pillow. He picked it up, resumed his position by the door, and tossed it gently through the air.
• • •
Luna kept her eyes on the stars. She could see them through the apartment window as she heard the approaching storm. It rumbled, grew louder, and turned into a roar. Thunder had a physical presence, and once again it was crashing over the city. She felt it hard against her head. She crawled under the table, but it found her and slammed into her back. The room turned in a circle. The floor rose beneath her.
Roll away. Find the door.
The moon was full. Or maybe it was a lightbulb, she wasn’t sure, but it turned people into silhouettes. Some of them were huge.
The stars vanished. The light was brilliant. The next crash hit her ribs and lifted her into the air. One side of the light raced to meet the other, then it disappeared altogether. Stay in there, you goddamn little bitch!
A blue house. The air was electric. You are a girl held fast by the devil, and we will cast him out! Grab something heavy. Shit! My eye! Hurry. Hurry. The window slid open with a screech and she was safe beneath the stars, her heart beating faster and faster until it kept time with her feet, thudding down a suburban street with her ponytail streaming behind her. There she is! Get her into the car!
A white house. Thunderclaps from all sides. The fucking little bitch threw boiling water at me!
A brick house. You liked those sneakers, didn’t you? You think I gave them to you for free? Hit first. Roll away. Darkness and hunger and breaking glass. Grab something sharp. Run! The alley was lit by a streetlight and sliced by sirens. Whirling red lights and a dead end. Cornered. Jesus, she nailed me! Slammed to the concrete, pinned flat, arms pulled behind her, the stars were gone. Cold steel, a heavy click. Something soft hit her hip.
Luna ripped herself free and lashed out at her attackers, but her fists met only air. Frantically she scanned her surroundings and found herself in another unfamiliar room. At the door stood Ned, wearing a look of shock and pain. Her adrenaline ebbed, replaced by a flood of despair.
“Damn, Luna,” said Ned, his voice unsteady.
Her body vibrated as she gasped for breath. He eased onto the bed and gingerly encircled her with his arms, and just as gingerly she leaned against him. He waited for her to break down, to start to sob; but she fought to control her resistant body, and with a trembling hand she curtly wiped her cheek.
Ned held her silently. He thought of his sleek and gleaming office in Key West, where emotions were conveyed through capital letters or exclamation points or flaming emojis. He searched the books he had read, the movies he had watched, trying to come up with a hero in his position who had been brilliant and tender and wise, but found no one who had been anywhere near his position. He heard a series of deep grunts and thought, at least I’m inside.
Eventually she lay against him, slumped and quiet, her breathing regular, her eyes closed. Ned moved and, in her sleep, Luna stretched out and settled onto her pillow. He pulled the blanket around her, and turned off the light.
Chapter 15
In a motel room in Indiana, Gunderman sipped his pre-dawn coffee as he stared at his laptop. BILLIONAIRE BABE’S A BIRDNAPPER, blared allthenews.com.
The previous night he had not given chase. He knew there was no way to track them, that Warren would find Harrelson, ditch the van, and head to a more secure location. Instead he checked into a motel, pulled his bags from the trunk, and spent the next two hours pacing his room. He couldn’t prove it was Warren. And if he reported “ambushed by unknown assailant,” he was sure Whittaker would immediately send more officers to back him up. He tried to decide whether he was simply embarrassed by his own failing, or truly believed that adding more officers would destroy any chance of solving the case.
It was the latter, he decided.
Gunderman filled out a report stating he had found evidence of Luna Burke, Ned Harrelson, and the missing eagle at a campsite in southern Indiana, knowing Sean Callahan and his kids would hardly contradict him. He brooded as he typed. He was going off-script, and he didn’t like it.
At 7:30 he began calling every car rental company within 50 miles, asking if they had rented any large vehicles the previous day. After coming up empty he called Sean Callahan, whom he was sure knew Luna was free. He probably knew who freed her, too.
“I’m not trying to play hardball with you, Mr. Callahan, but it’s an important case,” he said, after the subject had denied any knowledge of Luna Burke’s whereabouts. “I could have your rehabilitation license for this.”
“And I could call Adam Matheson and tell him you used excessive force on his wife,” Sean replied evenly.
“But you have no proof. And I’m not sure you want to let him know you were harboring her.”
“Is there a reason for this call?”
“Where is she going?”
“No idea.”
“Then unfortunately, I’m going to have to start the paperwork to suspend your license.”
The line was silent.
“Let me get this straight,” said Sean. “If I tell you what I know, I keep my license.”
“Right.”
“Fine. She’s going to New Mexico.”
“How do you know?”
“Because last night she called me from a burner phone. Our conversation lasted about 30 seconds, so that’s all I can tell you. She was going to Pennsylvania, but not anymore. You know why? Because you scared the shit out of her. You proud of yourself?”
“You’d be willing to testify to this under oath?”
“Once you get me into a court of law.”
Gunderman hung up and leaned back in his chair. His mission in life was to defend the natural world and its inhabitants, yet somehow an entire faction of those on his own side considered him the enemy. In actual numbers, there weren’t that many wildlife rehabilitators; but at that particular moment, they seemed to be everywhere.
His mind drifted north, to Pennsylvania. He thought of Celia’s fragile exterior, her iron resolve, her fair hair and warm eyes and slender, callused hands. He thought of Elias and Wizzie. He reached for his phone, wondering how far the news of last night’s encounter had traveled.
“Western Pennsylvania Wildlife Center,” Celia answered.
“Hello, Ms. Jenkins, this is Officer Gunderman.”
There was a long silence. “Hello?” he said.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
Evidently, the news had reached Pennsylvania. “I just wanted to check in with you.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Ms. Jenkins, she broke the law.”
Unsurprisingly, Celia simply waited in stony silence. “Yesterday morning I spoke to my boss,” he said. “He’s the head of U.S. Fish and Wildlife’s Law Enforcement Division. It turned out he’d just spoken with the director, who is head of the entire agency. The director said once we recover the male eagle, he might want to transfer it to a facility in Virginia.”
He heard a soft intake of breath, then Celia’s uncertain voice. “But…but why? Mars’s mate is here with us.”
“I know. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, either. This is what we don’t want — the eagle getting caught in any kind of departmental dispute.”
“But…”
“I didn’t mean for things to escalate the way they did last night. I really didn’t. Please try to understand…what if Ms. Burke was just some random woman who stole an eagle? Wouldn’t you be glad I was after her?”
He heard nothing, and plunged on. “My goal is to recover your eagle and return him to you. But the longer this goes on, the greater the chance that when we do find him, he’ll end up caught in a bunch of agency infighting. And that’s when he might end up in Virginia.”
Gunderman felt a twinge of conscience. He had never given the whoppers he told during his performance of duty a second thought, as the ends always justified the means. But this time he pictured Celia, trembling in response to his words, her heart breaking at the thought of the permanent separation of the bonded pair of eagles. He realized he had just referred to the missing eagle as ‘him’ instead of ‘it,’ and ‘your eagle’ instead of ‘the eagle.’ He hadn’t meant to do it. Still, it was probably helpful, so he said it again.
“All I’m asking is if you’ve heard or thought of anything — anything at all — that might help us recover your eagle and return him to you.”
“No,” she said.
“All right. If you do, you have my number. You know police and state conservation officers are looking for them, as well?”
“I know that,” she said, the edge back in her voice. “And as far as checking wildlife centers? All of you are wasting your time. Eagles are scary birds. Most rehabbers don’t even take them. And as of last night, the ones who do aren’t going to risk losing their licenses. Or ending up in handcuffs.”
Gunderman said goodbye and hung up. He knew perfectly well that fear played almost no part in the lives of most of these people, that you could drag an injured wolverine to a bunny rehabber and she’d set her jaw and get to work. And risk…they took risks like they breathed.
He looked out the window, seeing not a cluttered parking lot but the morning mist rising from the Loxahatchee. His laptop pinged, and his eyes widened in surprise. The new kid at the office had come through. He had called her last night, explained what he needed, and told her it was a rush job. Evidently she stayed up all night. He downloaded the program, and opened it.
Across his screen was a map of the United States, the country pale blue against a navy background. He moved his cursor to Indiana, clicked, and the state turned bright yellow. Another click, and a spray of black dots and stars appeared within its borders. Two lists appeared on the right side of the screen: State Licensed Wildlife Rehabilitators. Federal Licensed Wildlife Rehabilitators.
Gunderman explored the program. He slid his cursor to Key West and dragged it along Luna Burke’s route, leaving a black trail. Florida. Georgia. Kentucky. Indiana. She had been traveling slightly northwest, covering approximately 300 miles per trip. And now?
If she continued on her slightly northwest pattern and went no further than her usual five-hour travel time, her next stop should be either northeastern Iowa, southern Wisconsin, or possibly just into Minnesota. If she was, in fact, going to New Mexico, her next stop should be southwestern Illinois or eastern Missouri. He moved his cursor in a circle, clicked, and the whole area lit up in yellow. Another click, and multicolored squares appeared within its border, accompanied by correspondingly-colored headings on the side of the screen. Small Mammals. Large Mammals. Reptiles/Amphibians. Songbirds. Waterfowl. Game Birds. Raptors.
He clicked Raptors and scanned the list of names, addresses, and phone numbers. He frowned. Luna Burke wasn’t an idiot; if she had just been apprehended at a raptor rehabber’s, she wouldn’t immediately flee to another. Gunderman began to suspect the new kid had stayed up all night for nothing.
He typed a quick email, thanking her and telling her he would contact her supervisor with a glowing report. Ten minutes later he was in the local coffee shop, digging into his eggs and musing about the players in the case. A billionaire. A former defensive lineman. A Chief of Law Enforcement. A former Navy SEAL. All formidable alpha males, whom very few would want to cross.
One of the few was Luna Burke, who had crossed three out of four of them.
Where would they go? If they went to a contact of Warren’s, he had little chance of finding them. But both Warren and Luna were rehabbers, and foremost in their minds — beside outwitting their pursuers — would be the comfort of the animal in their care. In fact, the greater their own stress, the more they would seek to minimize that of the eagle. The bird needed rest and familiar surroundings, so the odds were high they would continue to seek enclosures meant for wildlife, not garages or basements.
Think like Warren, he thought. Find a place no one would want to look. Eagles are scary birds, Celia had said. Most rehabbers don’t even take them.
Gunderman stopped, his fork in mid-air. He returned to his room and called up the new program. Once again he outlined his targeted area and scanned the tiny colored squares. He typed, clicked, and narrowed his search. Forty minutes later he had a list of five, and eventually his intuition went off like an air raid siren.
SMALL MAMMALS/LARGE MAMMALS. Tamarack Wildlife Center, 184 Rt 72, Rock Ridge, Wisconsin. Trish Delavan, Angelica Ruiz. Squirrels, bears.
Bears. Apex predators. A place no one would want to look. Rock Ridge, Wisconsin was on their way northwest.
It would take about four hours to drive from the motel to Rock Ridge. He was determined to keep it under wraps, to bring in only enough officers to cover the fact that Warren was with her. He would coordinate with the police sergeant and local conservation officers when he was an hour away, and wouldn’t even tell them the nature of the operation until he arrived at the Rock Ridge Police Station.
And if he was wrong? No harm done. All law enforcement officers knew the value of hunches.
He would map the area and figure out how to set up a dragnet. If the three of them had arrived with the eagle last night, they’d probably rest today and take off after nightfall.
He glanced at the time. He’d aim for 4:00.
• • •
Ned appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, blinking and groggy. He scanned the busy floral wallpaper, the ruffled lace curtains, and the squirrel and bear knickknacks. He spotted a large coffeepot and a row of cups, chose the largest one, and sat alone at the table.
Trish entered the room, yawning and wearing a silk bathrobe. She smiled sleepily, picked up the coffeepot, and poured three cups. She took a sip from the first one and Angelica appeared, combing her long hair with her fingers, wearing pajama bottoms and a sleeveless shirt. She walked up behind Trish, kissed the back of her neck, and took the second cup. Warren sauntered in, wearing jeans and a rumpled t-shirt, and took the third one. They all exchanged smug expressions, then Warren settled into an easy chair with deep grunt.
Ned cocked his head at the sound. “That wasn’t a bear I heard last night,” he said, in an accusatory tone. “That was you.”
“You’d have to be more specific,” said Warren. “What time are we talking about? And where’s Luna?”
“She’s sleeping! She had a rough night!”
Warren looked at him intently, and Trish and Angelica’s smirks disappeared. Ned glared at him. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I did!”
“What happened to her?”
Warren shrugged. “She bounced around foster care. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“She had the mother of all nightmares! Does this happen all the time?”
“Did she cry?” asked Trish.
“No, she didn’t cry! How can she have dreams like that and not cry?”
“We thought she might let go last night,” said Trish. “That’s why we sent her in with you.”
“Someday she’ll crack,” said Warren. “But until then, my job is to keep her together.”
“Does that mean mine is to make her cry?”
“Not to make her cry,” said Trish. “To let her.”
Angelica noticed a flash of motion and looked out the window. “She’s gone to see Mars,” she said. “Ned, all I can tell you is it’s really important that we get her to Hélène’s.”
“That’s what everybody tells me!”
Warren rose. “We’ll lay low today, then we’re out of here tonight.”
• • •
Elias sat on the office couch and watched the mist turn to rain. Heavy clouds obscured the top of the mountain. He loved the tenuous, transitory moment when the mist gained weight and mass and began to fall, sometimes delicately as snow, sometimes hard as hail. Eventually the rain would stop, leaving droplets hanging from leaves and rocks and blades of grass, and the world would be clean and fresh and ready to resume.
There were some things, though, the rain couldn’t wash away.
Yesterday he had driven to Prattstown, bought a new cell phone, and placed it in Celia’s hand. Don’t put the group on here, he said firmly. You deal with the center, and I’ll deal with Luna.
Thank you, Dad, she said, and gave him a hug.
When he alerted the group that Celia’s phone had been lifted, they went silent on the subject of Luna. Instead they reverted to normal rehabber exchanges, avoiding all reference to her.
[email protected] Anyone tried that new skin glue from Weber & Tile?
[email protected] Yes it’s really good, much better than Dermaclose
[email protected] They’ll send you a sample if you write the rep Linda Davis [email protected]
Late last night, things had changed. Elias was sleeping when Sean posted the news of Luna’s arrest, escape, and flight to New Mexico. Elias pulled his eyes from the rain, reached for his phone, and read the replies once again.
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