Raising his eyebrows, Ren tilted his head toward Blaze, quietly prompting his wife and business partner Cindy to join her, possibly smoothing the rough edges of an individual who clearly did not want to be approached. Thinking she perhaps needed a woman's touch, he raised his eyebrows to which Cindy calmly shook her head, crossing her legs. An obvious refusal.
Moving closer, Ren frowned. “Why don’t you talk to her? Warm her up a little?” Cindy grinned up at Ren, winking. Her voice was low enough for only him to hear. “Oh, trust me. That one is plenty warm. Good luck.”
Glaring in agitation, Ren turned slowly and watched as Blaze added a packet of cream to her coffee. He stepped back, uncertain as to how he should proceed.
The awkward moment lingered until Cindy silently rose to her feet and extended her hand. Blaze took it, suspiciously eyeing her.
“Hello, I’m Cindy.”
Nodding, Blaze took her hand. “Hello, Cindy. I assume you already know my name?”
Cindy gave a small nod. Her shiny black hair shimmered in the low light as she sat back down, leaving Ren on his own for introductions.
Smiling broadly he extended his hand too. “Ren. Pleasure to meet you, Blaze.” He grinned broadly.
“Is it?” Her voice was husky from screaming, and carried an undertone of darkness.
“Because, under the current circumstances, I am not exactly thrilled to meet YOU.” She glanced around Ren to include Cindy in her comment.
Ren nodded briskly. “I understand. If you would just have a seat.”
Blaze let her eyes settle on the two before her, not moving to follow his prompt.
“Why would I do that?”
The awkward moment enlarged and the room itself felt tight. Taking a sip of her coffee Blaze continued, taking a deep breath. “I will assume you have a stake in this and you may be helpful. I have lost a lot in twenty-four hours. I'll give you and Cindy ten minutes. Then I am gathering my things and leaving.”
Ren’s eyes darted toward Cindy who lowered her lids and quietly leaned forward. Interlacing her fingers she thought a moment before speaking. Blaze, fatigued and swaying on her feet, flopped impatiently down onto the opposite chair, pulling the lop-sided towel from her head and letting her hair collapse in disarray around her pale face. Her dark blue eyes glared out like rocks as she waited.
“Blaze you seem to be a straight shooter; what body language I have been able to read implies you are well educated, and confident in your own abilities. Ren and I...we don't run into that a lot in our profession. People in your position tend to be skittish and, well, eager to talk.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up to Blaze. “So, at great risk, going to honor all of those facets of your personality and level with you.”
Ren, momentarily alarmed, forced himself to continue to appear relaxed. Only the occasional twitch of his black cowboy boot gave him away as he leaned back and crossed his legs. Blaze, catching his discomfort, waited.
“Ren and I are employed by Randall Sterling.”
To their surprise Blaze smiled and sipped her coffee. “Well, you just never know what to expect in Stryker, do you? Would you let Randall know he and I have unfinished business, and that he should come speak to me himself...like a big boy?”
Ren rubbed the back of his neck in clear frustration.
“That's not how things work with the Sterling Group, Blaze.” Blaze leaned back, studying Ren's response. “Oh, I am aware. So, you have very few minutes left to explain to me what’s going on before I leave. Please, continue...”
Rising, Ren glanced to his foam coffee cup wishing it was filled with whiskey. Usually he was the lead in these interactions. Picking up his cue, Cindy stood. Retrieving her leather coat, her voice was modulated, and paced. Years of obvious training no doubt had enabled her to speak with resistant individuals.
“What I’d like, Blaze, is for you to get a little sleep. Ren and I will be staying here in town with you. When you’re more rested tomorrow, if you decide to stay, I will explain exactly why we’re here, and what we need from you. No games.” Blaze considered her words, her mind forming an image of the missing as Cindy spoke.
Raising her heavy eyes, she leveled them at Cindy.
“I want Shelby located. She has the best chance of surviving out there.”
Ren cleared his throat and began to speak. “You see Blaze, what we are doing is-“
Blaze raised her hand, standing aggressively. “It’s a simple request.” Her tone was direct and sharp, allowing no room for negotiation.
Both Ren and Cindy paused. “She saved my life up there- her and Hoyd both. You two work for Randall so you obviously know more than you're telling me. You want me to sleep? You want me to eat something and regain my strength so you can speak to me about a plan Randall’s behind?”
She crushed her foam coffee cup and threw it into a small, metal garbage can. “Then get people up there to help Gordon Allen and his family recover Shelby. He’s still up there. He’s been at the search for hours, literally, and he has to be exhausted and worried sick about his granddaughter.” She stepped forward, hands on her hips.
Cindy nodded her head, turning to Ren before speaking. Clearing her throat nervously, she spoke while maintaining direct eye contact with Blaze. “If we are correct in our estimations, Shelby is alone and headed toward a remote underground hot spring on the north side of the peak. It would be a good move on her part. There are no trees or anything for the creatures to utilize as camouflage. It’s a sheer rock face of the mountain covered with snow and ice that drops into Wolf Canyon. There is only one way in by foot, but it’s timbered.” Jax leaned forward and gripped the sides of his desk chair. “Wolf Canyon?” His tone was not lost on Blaze, although she remained unreadable. She thought of her colleague.
“Would the hot springs have been something Matilda would have known about?” Ren nodded his head. Pressing his fingers to his lips, he considered his line of thought before continuing. “Yes, Matilda would have known about the hot springs. She was very educated regarding the terrain of the peak. If you’re asking if they could hold out there, the answer is yes, but not for long. They would have a heat source, and obviously water to remain hydrated, as well as the cave for shelter, but we won’t have long to find them without protection and food.”
Blaze stood, feeling a surge of hope. “Matilda’s intelligent. She would do what she could to get there.”
Cindy touched Blaze’s arm. “We need you to rest; we’ll need you to go up there with us- that’s if you’re willing.” Blaze felt her chest constrict. Dismissing her hope, she squared her jaw. “You get word to the Allen family and let them know help is being organized. You communicate with them the same way you are with me or no deal.”
Sighing deeply, Cindy nodded. “I’ll go directly to their home and speak with them myself if you would like.”
Blaze eyed Ren. “And tomorrow we formulate a plan to recover them?” Ren returned the steady gaze, nodding once. “We’ll have a plan tomorrow. The thing is, Blaze, and I don't want to tip my hand, but you are the new MVP. If you decide to go off on your own during the night, or God forbid even leave town, the deal’s off. We need you.”
She gave Ren a gimlet eye; her voice was low and threatening. “And I will issue the same warning to you. Be here at first light or I start speaking to those news vans out there.”
Both stood quietly assessing the other until Ren slowly grinned, offering his hand. “Deal. No one leaves town. We'll see you at first light tomorrow. Cindy and I are headed up to the Allen place right now.”
Blaze nodded and headed toward the stairs leading to a back room where Jax had set up a small sleeping cot.
Ren pulled on his black jacket. “Hey, Butt Kicker…”
Blaze paused on the stairs and turned back toward him. His southern drawl had a sincere ring to it.
“Glad you’re on our side.”
Blaze inclined her head, looking deeply into his dark eyes.
“We’ll
see.”
“Darkness dwells within even the best of us. In the worst of us, darkness not only dwells but reigns.”
― Dean Koontz
~Four~
Sleep eluded Blaze. Drifting in and out she woke with urgency when the radio crackled from the front office of the sheriff's department. At the mirror, she shook her head. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, causing her to look bruised. She pulled her tangle of curls back from her pale face and threw it into a barely controlled bun.
Still in the same clothing she wore earlier, Blaze splashed water on her face. Ren and Cindy were waiting with coffee in Sheriff Walker’s office as promised; bearing a small tray of what looked like homemade scrambled egg burritos. Without waiting for an invitation Blaze took two, balancing one on a napkin as she practically inhaled the other.
Finishing, she downed them with black coffee and sighed. A wave of guilt washed over her as she thought of Shelby, and possibly Matilda. They had nothing to eat on the high mountain peak just beyond the warm office where they sat. Biting her lip, she wiped her mouth with a napkin. When Ren noticed Blaze's eyes darting toward the window, he casually began to roll up his sleeves, pushing his hand through his shock of dark hair. Leaning forward, his forearms on his knees, he eyed Blaze kindly, but with determination.
“So. Shall we get down to brass tacks?” Blaze sat up straighter in her chair. “Yes.” She returned his level gaze and waited. Carefully, Ren removed a silver engraved card holder. Opening it, he passed a thickly embossed card to Blaze, the beige background displayed a simple script. Turning it over, she noted a well-printed phone number with only his first name. Cindy handed her one as well. It was exactly the same, aside from a different number and her own name. Blaze flicked the card to the table.
“Secret society?” Ren chuckled. “Something like that.” He reached for the coffee pot and offered to fill her mug. Blaze declined, waiting. Hearing the clock on Walker’s desk chime, she realized she hadn't taken her morning medication. Raising her finger to indicate she needed a moment, Ren waited as she pulled her medicine from a small bottle. Although she felt odd with them watching, she reached for a glass of water to take her pills, knowing the outcome would be much worse if she didn’t remain on schedule. Replacing the glass she raised her eyebrows to Ren.
“You were saying?”
“We operate independently. What you have been dealing with here is sort of our specialty.” He looked across the table, rubbing his chin.
“Really? Your specialty?” Blaze looked back and forth between the two of them, feeling herself heat up. “How exactly are you qualified for this? Because you haven’t been doing a very good job. People have been going missing for years, children too. If you wanted me angry that was the perfect way to start.”
Cindy dropped her head, looking up toward Ren from under her long, thick lashes. Lashes that veiled what she was thinking.
Blaze stood. “Well, Secret Agent man? What about Matilda? Shelby, Skid, Hoyd? What about them? The cost of doing business? Are they casualties?”
Ren toyed with the handle of his coffee mug, not making eye contact with Blaze.
“When you’re ready to hear everything, take a seat,” he replied bluntly. Blaze winced as though she had been physically struck by his words. “You know what really has me shocked right now? That you’re serious. You have obviously been giving orders for so long you don’t know how to take constructive feedback.”
Blaze knocked her chair sideways, and advanced on Ren. She stopped at the edge of the table, nostrils flaring.
“Answer my questions.”
Sheriff Walker interrupted, throwing Blaze off her focus. Her eyes darted toward the sound of his voice.
“There’s someone at the front door. I need to see who it is before you continue this conversation… or homicide, Blaze.”
Blaze turned back toward Ren. “This is not over, 007.”
Cindy pushed her fingers to her temples, rubbing them as she waited.
Blaze turned toward the door as Walker re-entered. He frowned and turned slightly to Blaze. “You alright?” Ren cleared his throat, a hint of impatience in his tone as he spoke to Blaze. “If you’d like to take a seat, we can continue with your line of questioning. I believe you had just insisted on doing the talking.”
Walker sat down in the empty chair next to Blaze. He took one of her fingers in his hand, tugging her back into her chair. The four of them sat silently a moment, tying to regroup.
“Answer my question.” Blaze spat into the silence.
Ren laughed somewhat helplessly. “I’d love to darlin’ but there’s a lot goin’ on here and I’m losing track.”
Her eyes darkened and she leaned forward, peering with menace, speaking slowly.
“I was saying, if this is your specialty, then why have so many people turned up missing?”
Cindy cleared her throat and leaned forward as well. In a soft, non-demanding lilt, she spoke as she interlaced her fingers on the table top.
“You have to listen closely Blaze. We won’t have time to repeat all of this later. I’m sorry it’s all coming at you so fast. It wasn’t meant to unfold this way.”
Pausing, she took a sip of her coffee, swirling it in the low light. When she looked up, she was apologetic.
“Some of what you’ll hear you won’t like. But I will always be honest with you.”
Blaze nodded mutely.
Taking one more sip, Cindy took a deep breath.
“Do you believe in monsters now, Blaze?”
“The night belongs to beasts of prey, and always has. It's easy to forget that when you're indoors, protected by light and solid walls.”
― Cornelia Funke
~Five~
Bixley was coming home and no one knew what to do about it. Norma pursed her lips as she worked at the sink, peeling potatoes. Ordinarily she wasn’t a fretful person, but Bixley brought it out in her. Biting at the corner of her mouth the way she always did when she felt stress, she finished the last potato and tossed it in the bowl. Norma hadn’t a clue as to how to handle her. That was the rub. Being a competent woman in business and in personal affairs always gave her a sense of security and confidence. Bixley could unplug all of that within half an hour of her arrival home. Actually it would take less.
Gordon was out in the cold, searching, and had been for hours. Norma dropped her head and thought about pouring herself a drink. Hearing the horn from out front, she wished she’d taken Storm up onto the mountain instead of letting Gordon. Although he'd be freezing and exhausted, he’d be in an element he was comfortable in. Shelby’s mother would change all of that upon her arrival. Their home was known to vibrate with the energy Bixley could bring in. When the horn sounded again, Norma swallowed half a Xanax in place of a drink. Everything in moderation.
She eyed her well-appointed mountain home one last time, knowing that once Cyclone Bixley hit, it would all be over; the order, the silence, and the daily routine of the family…
As Norma exited the house she was relieved to see both Wyatt and Dillon in the truck waiting for her. Wyatt was good for Bixley. He was able to keep up with her escalated thinking patterns. Dillon would be good for Norma; he was calming.
Norma sat in the passenger’s seat. Ordinarily she’d drive, being a take-charge personality. However, she waived her claim and was grateful the men had offered to take turns heading to the airport in Kalispell.
~*~
At the edge of Stryker, Gordon, Dusty, John and Pat sprang from the trees on blowing, lathered mounts. They leaned low over their saddle horns as the horses kicked up fresh snow, plowing through the main street of town.
The militia noticed, and immediately ran toward the men who had were riding as if they were outrunning evil itself. Hard to slow from their escalated adrenaline, the horses pranced and threw their heads as the four men quickly dismounted. Several militia members offered to walk off the run the horses had experienced.
Gordon and his gra
ndson, with Pat and John, circled up on weary legs to assess the damage of the encounter. Gordon had made sure none of his men made eye contact with the creatures. He shook his head in concern as they shared with the militia that a least two wounded creatures were left behind, still alive.
The men were ushered into the warmth of Cold Cat Cafe and given something to drink. Others busily pulled chairs close to the table where Gordon and the other men gratefully seated themselves. They listened to the day’s encounters, wild eyed and incredulous.
As his heart rate slowed, Gordon began talking. The cafe fell into an awed silence, drinking in the details of what the men endured during their escape from the mountainside. Speaking slowly but carefully, he outlined the direction of the signs Shelby had been leaving behind.
When he uttered the words “Wolf Canyon”, a pall fell upon the room. An older man in the back of the cafe removed his hat out of respect, dropping his chin to his chest. The others shifted uneasily, eyeing one another in silent communication. Sighing deeply, Gordon leaned his forearms on the table and rubbed his forehead. He was tired. More tired than he’d ever been. Pulling a thin lock of Shelby’s red hair from a small plastic sandwich bag, he rubbed it between his fingers. The bitter cold of the mountain had drained his body heat, and his fingers ached from movement. He'd promised Norma he’d find their granddaughter.
Gordon struggled with numb fingers to place the strand of hair back into the bag, then finally accepted help from Pat while John remained silent and pale, surveying the mountain line from the window of the cafe's bar.
Blinking back several memories burning behind his eyes, Gordon acknowledged it wasn’t the first time Shelby had forced him to look high and low for her. She seemed to attract calamity. She thrived on it. He knew somehow in his gut she would be alright. He just wished his gut would tell that to his mind.
While Gordon was grateful the well-dressed man and his female partner arrived on his door step the night before, he couldn't say he truly trusted their offer to assist. Their words had felt memorized, practiced. They had assured him and Norma that help was being organized, and he would hear more on the subject within a matter of hours. Sitting around and waiting on those hours to pass had not been an option for him. Warmed up and having eaten a small bowl of soup, he rose from the café table and walked briskly back outside to ensure Storm and the other horses had been cared for. As he and several other men from the militia exited the cafe, at least half a dozen trucks with white trailers pulled up to the road block, speaking with Gene and the others. After a few moments of discussion Gene whistled for Gordon to join him.
Wolf Canyon: Cold Cat Mountain Book II (Cold Cat Mountain Trilogy 2) Page 2