Timberline Trail

by Lockner, Loren

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Pray Tory sends reinforcements. But until he does let’s agree upon what we know.” Jon crossed his legs. “Steve, Monsieur Canadian, and Mr. X traveled a long way to ‘make your acquaintance’ so to speak. I didn’t tell you this before, but on one of my photo hikes the day before I found the injured Sugar, I caught Steve watching your cabin. That doesn’t sound like a man simply searching for property unless he’s set on acquiring your house. And do you remember how Sugar reacted to him? My gut instinct says he’s the one who shot the wolf. And your three squatters certainly didn’t appear to want to discuss whatever grievance they held against you, preferring instead to shoot at you, Paul’s truck, and your wolf. I can’t help but feel we’re missing something crucial. Do you have anything of value in your cabin that Steve or his friends might covet? Do you believe it was him searching through your filing cabinets, not me?”

  “I do, just like I’m now positive he shot Sugar. That’s why the wolf kept growling at him. But what they might want is perplexing; I don’t keep much money in the cabin though I do have my Grandmother’s sapphire necklace she gave me on my 21st birthday secreted in my jewelry box. It’s probably worth a couple grand, but there’s honestly nothing else of real value in the cabin except for my computer, video player, and TV.”

  “Could your father have left something important in your cabin before he embarked upon his holiday? Something you weren’t aware of?”

  Tia thought hard for a few moments before shaking her head vehemently. “He left some papers, but I’m certain they’re simply duplicates of business materials Uncle Jeffery sent him. They’re kept in the small office inside his filing cabinets.”

  “Was he working on a new game or program by any chance? Something that might have big money-making potential for the company?”

  Tia fingered her parka and thought intently. “Dad was always working on something. He had a million ideas and constantly fiddled on the computer.” Tia’s head jerked up and she met Jon’s dark green eyes. “The other computer! It never even crossed my mind since I work on my laptop. It’s located in the small office to the right of my bedroom.”

  “Before your dad left he was working on that computer?”

  “Yeah, all the time. He played all his own computer games as well as everyone else’s. He joked how he loved to check out the competition, but I think he just liked to play games.”

  “The eternal kid. Did he ever mention any new product specifically?”

  “Yeah. One was some sort of brick-building game, but I told him that didn’t sound very interesting though it certainly intrigued him. He also mentioned an experimental program designed to sense impending earthquakes and within the first 15 to 20 seconds before the big jolt, turn off the gas, computers, electricity, etc. My dad swore it was a concept way before its time and even traveled to Timberline to speak to some Japanese businessman on the phone eager to test the program. I’m not really certain what happened since Dad had to deal with some other issues and I didn’t hear any more about it for the last three months of his . . . stay.”

  “Did either of these programs have names?”

  “Yeah, let’s see. The brick program he referred to as ‘Brick Brak.’ The earthquake one he strangely called ‘Timberline Trail.’ Said he dreamed it up while hiking on the trail near our cabin. I’ve gotten some pretty great ideas on that path myself.”

  “Hmm… have you ever heard of industrial espionage Tia?” asked Jon, leaning back against a rock and digging his wool clad feet into the sand.

  “Of course I have. It consists of one company stealing ideas from another. Do you believe my new residents are involved in some sort of corporate espionage?”

  “Maybe they believe you have some plans that could make them a whole lot of bucks. And Tia... no one really ever understood why Andrew Carson was murdered. Perhaps your father’s innovative ‘games’ and his partner’s unsolved homicide are somehow related.”

  “I just don’t know Jon. I’m so out of the loop regarding any of dad’s projects. One thing’s clear though, I really need to examine Dad’s computer.”

  Jon threw out the rest of his tepid water onto the sand and shook the cup free of any clinging droplets. “Maybe you can contact him in Mauritius and ask him. Until you can though, I suggest we pack up and head in the direction of your cabin. If we’re lucky the reinforcements have arrived.”

  

  They hurriedly gathered up their few belongings and Jon kicked sand over the fire as Tia returned with the cooking pot to dump snow upon the smoking coals. Jon replaced the pot in his backpack and hitched it over his shoulder.

  Tia gazed at him long and intently before admitting, “I don’t want to leave this place Jon. I feel so warm and safe here.”

  “I know, but we really don’t have any choice Tia,” answered Jon softly. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before scraping through the narrow crevice into the bright world beyond.

  Not a cloud blemished the azure sky and the temperature had risen to above freezing. Already the snow had turned to slush around the warming boulders. This was the typical weather pattern in southern Alaska before the heavy weather set in, usually around mid-October. Snow and melt, snow and melt until violent blizzards socked in Tia’s cabin and the surrounding area until mid to late April.

  They proceeded fairly rapidly down the small hill, using the trail Jon had broken the previous evening. They slogged some twenty minutes through the spruce and pine until Jon excitedly pointed to the thin finger of smoke drifting from Tia’s cabin.

  “Looks like you still have your visitors,” stated Jon. He checked his rifle, and noticing her distressed face pressed a quick kiss upon her lips.

  “I’ll make certain no one harms you Tia,” he promised, and they walked hand in hand through the melting snow.

  Once again the smoke from the cabin made the true distance deceptive and this time, as they paused at Bear River, Jon took his time finding a place to cross so their warm feet wouldn’t get cold.

  Tia noticed a shallow area whose shiny snow-covered rocks stuck out of the water to make a natural stepping stone bridge. They tiptoed across the slippery stones scarcely wetting their shoes.

  “I wish we’d found this last night,” grumbled Tia, and Jon agreed.

  “It’s easy to be more patient when you’re warm and have had a good meal in your stomach. I believe at this pace we should make it to your cabin within twenty minutes.”

  A loud honking clamor sounded above them and Tia and Jon twisted their heads to view a dozen or more trumpeter swans flying in formation as they headed south. The majestic birds heralded the start of winter and were a sight Tia could witness a thousand times and never tire of.

  “I sure could use my telephoto right about now,” whispered Jon as the birds disappeared through the ragged high tops of the spruce and fir forest. “Simply amazing.”

  Tia’s heart thrilled at Jon’s simple words. Here was a man who appreciated the nature she so revered and for the first time Tia realized falling in love with Jon Simons could very well be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  The climb uphill was treacherous and they saved their breath as they sloshed through the melting snow, occasionally sliding a bit as the muddy pine needles gave way underneath them. At the top of the small rise Jon pointed. There was her cabin, looking beautiful and inviting in the clear morning air. Today, only the fireplace in the central room emitted smoke. Jon’s black Jeep tilted oddly in front of the cabin along with a gray Toyota Land Cruiser. Tia’s ruined blue Chevy was covered in snow and Steve’s Kia had been pushed near the shed, obviously unusable. A midnight blue Nissan Pathfinder, its sides glistening as if it had been out for a morning drive, stood near the front door.

  “Hmm,” said Jon. “I wonder if they have an additional guest or are just planning to make a move. What do you think Tia?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” she surmised and sank onto her hau
nches to think. “I guess there’s no way for me to check out my dad’s computer while they’re still there and we only have the one rifle. Plus we don’t know if Paul’s being held captive inside.” A sudden image shook her and she turned to Jon. “I’ve been so stupid. My snowmobile’s parked in the shed.”

  Jon’s eyes lit up. “So I guess we have a plan now?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, as an overwhelming urge to find out once and for all if Paul was involved in all this washed over her. She squinted at the sturdily built house which had been specifically designed to appreciate the morning sun’s warmth each day. Tia figured if she headed north of the cabin, she could first take a peek inside the French windows of her master bedroom before easing around to the other side of cabin to peer into the small rectangular windows overlooking her packed bookcase. While Tia wouldn’t have as good of a view inside the cabin as the east windows, she had less chance of being seen. And, anyone coming out the front entrance wouldn’t notice her footprints. Her mind made up, she turned to Jon who scanned the front of the house.

  “Why don’t you go retrieve the snowmobile? I’ll meet you around the back of the shed.” She hurriedly plowed through the snow, not waiting for his approval.

  “Wait a minute! Tia!” he hissed, as she quickly moved away. Glancing back Tia noticed that Jon looked mad enough to spit nails.

  She ignored his displeasure and plunged down the small hill, keeping to the trees. Jon gesticulated angrily at her, demanding she stop, but Tia pretended not to notice. Finally he whipped his rifle over his shoulder and headed down the hill himself, veering right toward the shed. So far so good! Tia remained in the shadow of the tree line, finally managing to lope through the melting snow to the north side of the cabin. She hugged the rough hewn logs as wood smoke assailed her nose.

  Tia edged around the back of the cabin and pressed her face against the master bedroom window. Its beige curtains were only partially drawn so she leaned against the glass to venture a quick peek. Empty. Tia returned to her shelter of the north-west side of the house and peered out to the timberline, spotting Jon’s dark blue parka.

  He lifted his hands up in query and she shook her head grimly at him. He shrugged exasperatedly and slowly opened the tool shed door. The hum of the generator drifted over the glistening snow as he ventured inside.

  Mustering up courage, Tia moved along the west side of the cabin, ducking under the low windows before passing behind the stone fire place her Uncle Jeffery had so proudly constructed three summers ago. She proceeded to the outer corner of the house until reaching the window near the bookcase and strained on her tiptoes to squint through the glass brightened by yellow gingham curtains. The murmur of men’s voices rose, barely discernable over the roar of the overfilled fireplace. Before it stood two angry men. The first was easily recognizable as Steve who argued with the stocky, sandy-haired man whose moustache drooped over fat red lips.

  Placing her ear against the window Steve’s stressed voice rang clearly. “Well, if you’d been watching better he’d never have gotten away in the first place.”

  The French-Canadian gave a shrug so typical of his people and lit a narrow cigar. “He will die from cold. He’s from the city and doesn’t even know in what direction Timberline lies. I say let the wolves pick his bones.”

  “And the girl. I always thought the plan was to question her not kill her?”

  “She’d seen our faces,” stated the Canadian mildly, and he blew smoke in Steve’s direction.

  “I don’t want to be party to this. She’s a nice girl and doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment.”

  “Bah!” cried the stocky Frenchman. “Women are never what they seem. You are just sore because she preferred the photographer. She’s devious that one; he can tell you that.” He shrugged toward the brown plaid couch.

  From it rose another man, his back and well-trimmed light brown hair to her. His medium built frame was covered by a huge bulky green sweater and he kept rubbing his arms as if cold. Some kind of knotted cap perched upon his head and he wore awful rust-colored baggy cords. Whoever it was certainly lacked the polished sophistication of Steve, who appeared close to assaulting the Canadian.

  “She did not prefer him,” cried Steve egotistically, and actually swung at the other man.

  Mr. X snarled something indiscernible and both men abruptly stopped arguing, distancing themselves from each other as they tried to calm down. Tia scanned the large front room for Paul Dale, now convinced he was the man who’d escaped and breathed a sigh of relief. A wave of resentment flared over her as the three men made themselves comfortable in her house. Steve sipped at a brandy he’d obviously retrieved from her liquor cabinet and continued his argument with the Canadian.

  “We’ve got to get out of here! There’s no telling when the cops might show up since we weren’t able to find Simons and the girl.”

  Tia’s legs ached from standing on tiptoe, but she still pressed against the icy window.

  The French-Canadian scoffed. “You worry too much, but I must agree with you Stevie; we have to move this morning. We’ve copied the disk and destroyed his hard drive. What else are we waiting for?”

  Two gray jays hopped up an Alpine fir not four feet above her and chattered away. Tia strained to listen over their noisy cries as the third man spoke quietly; his words fading in and out like a poorly adjusted radio station.

  “The job is not complete... I’ll... Tia knows too... glimpse... leave after all… the will proves... never connect...” His indistinct words faded away as Mr. X sauntered into the hall bathroom and slammed the door after him. Steve appeared annoyed and moved toward the picturesque windows framing the front of the cabin and Tia ducked, quickly jumping behind the house. It was far too risky to stay here. Something niggled at the back of her brain as she moved swiftly through the woods and headed straight for the tree line where Jon waited, hopefully with the snowmobile. She prayed the gas tank was full. Jon grabbed her close when she slid around the back of the shed, his face filled with anger.

  “What do you think you were doing?” he whispered angrily. “I thought the plan was to steal the snowmobile and get out of here?”

  “I had to see who was inside and determine whether or not Paul is a prisoner or part of their gang. There’s three of them. Steve, the Canadian, and some brown-haired man wearing a cap and a large green sweater over the most atrocious orange trousers I’ve ever seen. I have no idea who he is.”

  “Three, eh?” whispered Jon. “That’s not very many.”

  “Don’t even think about it. Besides, they’re armed with my dad’s hunting rifles. Steve mentioned someone escaping; that’s got to be Paul. They also indicated they’d found whatever they were looking for and confiscated the disk before destroying dad’s hard drive. You were right Jon. The secret was on his computer.”

  “Hmm,” pondered Jon. “Then they’ll probably be high-tailing it out of here, knowing someone is going to sic the authorities on them. I think the best plan is to move the snowmobile up to the tree line and when we’re far enough away from the house, start the engine and head toward my camp. I have a snowmobile there as well and after retrieving some supplies and more fuel, we’ll glide to Timberline.”

  “I wish we could take your car,” moaned Tia, not looking forward to the icy ride.

  “Yeah, but they’ve blown out at least two of my tires. Besides, the snowmobile is best for cross country. Let’s go,” urged Jon. “I believe if we head directly perpendicular from the shed, it’ll be the shortest way up to the tree line. Are you ready?”

  Tia nodded and gripped the small vehicle’s rubber handle while securing one hand upon the seat. Jon took the left hand side and with a mighty heave they propelled the snowmobile between them toward the dense block of trees. At any moment Tia expected to hear a shot and feel a bullet between her shoulder blades, but within a couple of minutes they’d reached the shelter of the pines, out of breath, but victorious.

  After a few
moments rest Jon whispered to her, “Let’s go.”

  For the next quarter hour the two battled the snow and countless hidden rocks and roots which seemed determined to snag the snowmobile at every turn. After a few hundred feet it became apparent which direction Jon wished to follow. A small hill rose to the right of her cabin and he determinedly pulled the snowmobile beyond it, hoping the rise would muffle the sound of the engine.

  Tia found it rough going as the sweat began to trickle between her shoulder blades. She struggled to maintain her balance and push the obstinate snowmobile toward the low plateau. And she had thought herself fit! Once, they hit a rock with such a jolt it rattled her aching bones all the way to her toes.

  “Can’t stop yet,” Jon ground out between clenched teeth, and they struggled until finally pausing behind the little hill now completely blocking them from the cabin’s view. Jon released the snowmobile and breathed deeply, his breath forming small clouds.

  “That should do it,” he said. “Hopefully this small hill will muffle the sounds of the motor. Let’s hop on.”

  Tia positioned herself behind Jon, her arms clutching his trim waist as he cautiously turned the key in the ignition, the engine noise bursting through the cold still air. They zoomed off, distancing themselves from Tia’s cabin. It was a cold icy ride that early Thursday morning as Jon unerringly guided the snowmobile toward his camp. Tia lost track of direction and time and it was with supreme shock when, after he accelerated up a little rise, she found herself sailing down the relative smoothness of the road.

  “It should only be a matter of minutes now,” Jon shouted back to her, his words garbled by the wind and barely discernable. True to his word they arrived at his camp within minutes, Jon parking the snowmobile in the exact spot his truck had stood a couple of nights before. Tia felt frozen to the quick. Ben’s parka, though warm, had not been enough to protect her from the wind chill and her hair had pulled away from its braid and hung around her face. Jon’s lips were blue and when he spoke his words cracked like brittle ice.