A young Gray Jay landed on the branch of a spruce tree overlooking them. Its inquisitive warble caught their attention. The bird ruffled slate gray feathers and settled them against the softness of its chest, seeming to preside over their private moment.
Erin tossed a pine cone in its direction. "Go away whiskey jack." The bird startled up and perched on another branch, closer than the first.
Allie put her hand over Erin's. "I don't think Fiona would mind." The charcoal capped bird tittered in response and swooped down to rest on the handle of the hatchet, still embedded in the ground. Erin shot it a dirty look but let it be. The intrusive little camp robber was looking for food they might have left behind.
Ignoring the bird, Allie cradled Fiona but could not bring herself to place her in the grave. She gently rocked the dog in her lap and tucked the raincoat as a mother would. Moist eyes peered helplessly up at Erin. "I can't. Please help me." Erin guided her hands and they both settled the carefully wrapped package into the hole. Allie caught her breath. "Goodbye, my sweet friend," she murmured.
"Sleep well, Fuzzy Fiona." With bare hands, Erin helped scoop moist black earth into the hole until the yellow raincoat was buried. They foraged until they had a mound of rocks constructed as a cairn over the grave. It would serve to mark the spot and deter predators.
When they finished, Allie squatted at the river's edge and let cool water run over her hands. Blood and dirt swirled through trembling fingers and a sob escaped her lips. Erin bent to help her.
"Should we go home?" Was this worth it? What if guys at the station were right? What if Lily was fine? What if they were wrong? She looked to Allie for the answer. Allie, who had given so much more than she had anticipated. Erin was prepared to turn back now, leaving all of this behind, if her girlfriend uttered only one word.
Allie straightened. "We need to finish this." Intense fire flashed in her dark brown eyes. "Fiona didn't give her life for us to run home with our tails between our legs. I will be fine. I keep seeing an evil predator capable of making the wolves last night seem like children's toys. It's been growing more dangerous but right now it's running and we need to catch it." She pushed the canoe upright and mercilessly dragged it on its keel through the trees.
"What is Derek going to do?"
"What I see in my head is a dark predator, like a raging wild cat. We need to hurry."
Erin retrieved their belongings and scrambled to follow. In the trees, the whiskey jack hopped overhead from branch to branch, never losing sight of them. When had her soft-skinned, latté-sipping girlfriend become this fearless warrior?
Allie was in the boat, paddle in hand, before Erin could even load their packs. She pushed them off and lightly stepped over the gunwale to assume her stern position. Digging her paddle in, she took off with feverish energy and Erin splashed awkwardly to keep up. The canoe yawed sideways in the river, forcing her to thrust her paddle out to correct it.
"That was at least an eighty pound male gray wolf," Erin volunteered inanely, once Allie's frenetic rhythm had slowed to merely a quickened pace. "They're also called Timber Wolves. Before a teenager was attacked last year, I hadn't heard about wolves attacking anyone in Minnesota, ever. It's quite unusual—"
"I don't want to talk about it." Allie clipped her words. "Can we be quiet for a while?"
The Gray Jay flew above them, circling once before landing on the bow deck. The bird chirped, a sweet silvery note that contrasted with all the awful emotions. Erin narrowed her eyes. It was tempting to want to swat the pesky critter away with her paddle.
Oblivious to their feelings, the bird cheerfully hopped over and pecked at the cooler bag. Allie stopped, rested her paddle and sighed. Reaching in, she tore a piece of crust from the last ham sandwich. The bird skipped and expertly caught it mid air when she tossed a morsel. She tossed another and the Gray Jay did it again. It flitted off toward the trees to stash its prize and was back in a minute, begging for more. When the bread crust was gone, the bird sat on the gunwale and made a pleased warbling sound deep in its tiny throat.
Allie took in a breath, stretched her neck from side to side and relaxed her shoulder muscles. She took up her paddle and dug it firmly into the water, this time at a more reasonable pace. The bird stayed with them for half an hour before careening off the end of the canoe and disappearing into the bush. Dark gray wings flashed through leaves from time to time, and the chirping continued to follow them downriver.
"I feel so stupid." Erin's brain snapped to attention when Allie finally spoke.
"What?"
"I knew something bad was coming. Why couldn't I tell what it was? If I had known—I could have—Fiona wouldn't—" Allie's voice cracked and she nearly released her grip on her paddle. She struggled to reclaim it and pulled it across her knees. "I hate this fucking so-called gift! What is wrong with me?"
Erin could not remember Allie ever using the F-word. She wanted to hold her, to soothe her, but she knew her girlfriend was far too angry right now. "Maybe it's a way to protect yourself. Maybe there was nothing you could have done to change what happened. Maybe there is such a thing as fate."
"It's my fault she's dead."
"It is not your fault." Erin knew where Allie's guilt was leading her now. Six-year-old Allie was reliving the loss of her mother. "And it wasn't your fault then either."
"Do you really believe in fate?" Allie said through her tears.
"I can't rule it out. I met you, didn't I?" Erin meant it. Meeting Allie was like a force of nature. It had to be.
"Perhaps I can't control everything that happens." Allie picked up her paddle again and took a few strokes. "Fiona was the best dog I ever met."
"Absolutely," Erin agreed without hesitation. "Best dog ever."
* * *
"Get up! Get up, I said! It's time to go." I've been awake for half an hour, pacing around the shack and watching the sky lighten until finally I can see down the trail to the river. The last of the glowing embers has died in the stove when I kick the side of the bed frame. "Get up!"
Minion's eyes open slowly, like it's freakin' Sunday morning in the suburbs and then rolls a lazy ass over to look out the window. "Storm's gone."
No shit, Sherlock! "It's morning. Let's go!" Minion puts two feet on the floor and I lead the way out the door. Trotting down the little path to my warning tree, I narrow my eyes at the chip in the bark where I'd stuck in my knife. Did it fall out in the storm? I pull the canoe aside and check the ground. Where the hell is my knife? Minion avoids looking at me and I figure I've got a pretty good idea where it went. I'll get even when the time is right. I drop my backpack in the canoe and shove it down the bank to the water.
Minion loads up first but dives a hand into my pack on the way by. It is so fast, I have no time to stop it, and suddenly Minion is crouched there in the middle of the boat with my granola bar. I angrily give the canoe a shake. Minion jumps over the seat and sits down before it capsizes, looking at me with big cow eyes.
"Hey!" I yell. That's mine.
The granola bar goes into Minion's slimy mouth before I'm in the boat and there's no chance to get it back. I reach for the pack instead and stuff it under my feet, away from prying fingers. "Stay out of my stuff!" I'll keep it closer from now on. Minion looks at me like I've taken away Christmas and I point to the river. "Let's go."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Allie's sharp eyes located a division in weeds, footprints and drag marks on the sandy bank where a tiny creek spilled into the main river. "It's them!" The tracks were recent, unspoiled by the night's storm.
"They must have camped there last night!" Erin loaded four shotgun shells into the Mossberg's magazine tube and cradled it upright between her knees and shoulder. "He can't be far. Let's catch that evil bastard."
Allie paddled with renewed energy, creating deep whirlpools that swirled back to Erin who vigorously split them when she dug in with her own paddle. Four quacking ducks careened overhead, glistening water droplets spatteri
ng off frantically flapping wings. Above the treetops, where the river disappeared around the next bend, a flock of redwing blackbirds startled upright in frenzied flight. Allie hurried her stroke and Erin adjusted the weight of the shotgun on her shoulder. Did Derek know they were coming for him?
Sweat glistened on Erin's brow and her blistered hands were bleeding when they caught their first sight of the green fiberglass canoe. Just a fleeting glimpse of Derek in the stern before they disappeared around another bend. He was not looking back and, if luck was in their favor, he would not look back until it was too late. They were closing the gap.
"I don't think they saw us," Allie said, and Erin hissed a shushing noise through her teeth.
"Quiet," she whispered. "Be so quiet."
Like she'd done it all her life, Allie dipped her paddle into the water without a sound, without a splash. The muscles down Erin's spine tensed and the heady rush of adrenaline hit her system. She focused on the trailing ripple of water in the river ahead and a moment later the green canoe was back in their sights. Just a mere one hundred feet behind, the shotgun slipped from Erin's shoulder and she scrambled to recover it before the steel barrel clanged against the aluminum gunwale. In her haste she fumbled, and her paddle struck the canoe's center thwart, the dull thump resonating across the water. The two women held their breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
Slowly, from the bow seat, Lily stopped paddling and her pale hooded face turned toward them. Her mouth opened in an O shape and she emitted a high-pitched cry. Behind her, Derek whipped his head around and shock registered. He yelled something to Lily, who put her paddle into the water, but didn't take a stroke. Derek struggled to paddle on his own but he was no match for the women, who closed the gap and their bow cut into their quarry's rippling wake.
"Give it up, Derek!" Erin shouted, a hint of adrenaline infused anxiety making its way into her voice. "I'm taking you in." This was a fellow police officer, and arresting him conflicted with everything she had come to honor.
Derek wrenched his paddle from the water and let the canoe drift sideways in the current. Sweat ran down his flushed face and he fixed Erin with a cold stare.
"Are you okay Lily?" Erin called. The girl put down her head.
"You still pissed at me for stealing your lunch?" Derek taunted.
"You know this isn't about that," she said through clenched jaw.
His eyes dropped to the shotgun. "You gonna shoot me? For what? I ain't done nothin'."
"Tell me what happened to Dolores," she spat. Lily hunkered down in the front seat with her chin bent to her chest.
"You are talking through your deluded arse, girl. I told you the case is closed. That batty old broad blew herself up." He sneered dismissively, before shooting a hard look at Allie who visibly flinched. "Why don't you two bugger off and have your little romantic picnic somewhere else?"
Erin's blood began a slow boil. Allie massaged her temple, fighting a headache.
"Gina was almost killed!"
"Gina? What are you saying?"
"You nearly burned her alive!" Their canoes had drifted closer, almost close enough to touch.
Panic flickered in his eyes. "You're insane!" Without warning, he struck out with his paddle and slammed it into the side of the aluminum canoe, rocking it violently. "Back off!" One hand reached to his waistband and he withdrew a pistol. By the time Erin had recovered the boat's stability, the gun was leveled at her. Lily tucked her legs into her chest and watched cautiously from beneath her hood, her colorless face frozen.
"It's over," Erin said evenly, one palm facing outward. "We found Gunther Schmidt." Lily's head snapped up and two startled green eyes peered directly at Derek, who gave a slow shake. He glared back in a thinly veiled warning. Then like two angry laser beams, his gaze swung to Erin. His beefy hand was rock solid, finger tensed on the trigger of his Glock semiautomatic. "You found Gunther, did you?"
"I always knew you were a bastard, but Old Man Gunther? Were you tired of paying him off?"
"Oh, don't give me the song and dance about Gunther being a war hero. He's no choir boy. Besides, he and I have—" he searched for the right word, "—a gentleman's agreement. It's none of your business." Lily swung her legs around in the bow seat and faced Derek. Her features distorted in exaggerated suffering.
"A gentleman's agreement? Is that what attempted murder is called in your twisted world?" How long had Gunther Schmidt lain in that hole, sick and dying? Erin regretted ever thinking he was capable of this madness. The pistol wavered in Derek's hand and his eyes flitted to Lily's. The girl looked away.
With his attention diverted, Erin slowly raised the shotgun's barrel until it pointed at Derek. "You're done," she said calmly. "Just lay the gun down, nice and slow. You are not going to shoot me with your service pistol." He hesitated, looking at her under hooded eyes. Finally he lowered the Glock.
"What happened to us, Erin?" We could have been something." His expression darkened when he scowled at Allie who stared back this time. "Now look what you've become."
"What are you talking about?" Erin's throat ran dry. What kind of trickery was he attempting? "There has never been an us."
"There could have been. There almost was." He sounded miserable, like a sad little boy. "We were so good together in high school. If only you hadn't set your guard dog on me. We could have really been something."
"My guard dog?" Erin was confused. Derek transformed from an angry dangerous man into a wounded little boy and his behavior scared her. A fragment of memory unwound like a thread. Grade ten, Derek standing all cocky with his football buddies, asking her to the spring dance. He had been so arrogant. She had known she was a lesbian long before then. Everyone at school knew. Why had he even asked? She remembered his friends laughing when she continued to avoid him in the hallways.
"I tried to talk to you afterward, but your dog was always there in my face. She never let me close to you." Anger crept back into his voice and the little boy was gone. "I think Gina got what she deserved."
"No!" Erin's long forgotten memories flashed by in quick succession. Realization struck her like a kick to the chest. Gina had always been there for her, behind the scenes, acting as a shield between young lesbian Erin and a high school world not often kind to girls who were different. Like a big sister, Gina had deflected the taunts, as well as the brunt of Derek's obsession, allowing her to reach adulthood relatively unscathed. Erin understood that she owed her ability to find happiness now in part to Gina. "She did not deserve—"
"Bitch!" Derek spewed the words like a slap in the face. "I should shoot you." He brought his pistol back up and instantaneously Allie hurled her paddle, blade first like a javelin. It struck his forearm and ricocheted off the side of the boat into the water. The Glock skittered to the bottom of the canoe. The little green boat rocked dangerously and Lily's feet hit the floor. She grabbed frantically onto the gunwales, knuckles blanched with effort, and Derek balanced it with his body weight. Man and child both eyed the pistol, awash in an inch of water.
"Stop!" Erin thundered. "Derek, don't make me." His shoulders sagged and he slowly raised both hands.
"What are you gonna do? Tie me to a tree? Run for help?" He lifted his chin toward the river, where Allie's paddle had drifted out of reach. Soon it would be gone. "Except your girlie friend threw away her paddle."
The pistol was a problem. If she could just get it out of this equation. "Lily," Erin called gently. "Can you do one thing for me?" The girl's blank eyes veered to Erin's. "Just carefully pick up that gun and throw it into the water."
"I'm not sure you should—" Allie blurted.
"Don't—" Derek grunted but in a flash the pistol was in Lily's shaking hands.
"That's good," Erin said. "Now throw it over the side." Lily looked at Erin and then at Derek. The barrel of the Glock swept up to point directly at Derek's face.
"No, sweetie." Light jade eyes widened and his skin paled. "Don't do this."
"Ju
st throw it over the side," Erin repeated. "We don't want anybody to get hurt." Tears spilled down the girl's cheeks. Her hands shook so hard Erin feared the gun might go off accidentally.
"He did it." Lily whispered. "He put the gas on at that old lady's house. He hit the other lady at the store and burned it down. He gave my grandfather that stuff. He killed him."
"Your grandfather is not dead," Erin reassured her. "He's going to be okay. He's in the hospital."
Lily shook her head. "Don't lie, he's dead."
"Really, he's okay."
Lily's foot jangled anxiously and she adjusted her small hands around the gun's grip. Her index finger tightened against the trigger.
"Has this man hurt you?" Erin's voice was calm and soothing. Lily nodded her head vigorously and her gaze on Derek intensified.
"Aw, honey," he crooned. "Don't do this. I'll make it all okay. You know I'd do anything for you, sweetheart."
"Shut up," Erin barked. His oozing platitudes toward the young girl made her queasy. He sat back in silence, keeping his hands in the air.
"He hurt me," Lily said. "He—" she paused and looked from Erin to Allie. A fat teardrop welled in her pained eyes. "He did bad things to me."
"No," Derek said.
"We will help you," Erin told her, ignoring him. The girl held her gaze for a long moment before dropping the pistol over the side. It sank like a stone into the river, and Lily looked back at her like a child who has pleased a parent. Derek grunted, crumpled over and placed his head in his hands.
When the canoes drifted side by side, Allie motioned for Lily to hand over both of their paddles. Erin looped the painter rope from Derek's canoe around her own stern thwart and tied it on. She passed the last ham sandwich from her mom's truck driver lunch over to the girl. With an appreciative smile, she devoured it.
Just Intuition Page 20