Sleeping Bear

by Connor Sullivan

  They’d all woken early after a late night out searching with Petit and the Cronin boys; Emily had insisted on going to the riverbank. She said she needed to talk with him.

  This worried Trask. For the last week, his wife had been a wreck. Trask didn’t blame her—he didn’t know what he would do in her situation. Emily always felt like she had to be the protector in the family. The glue that holds the foundation in place. But that foundation had crumbled and the glue wouldn’t bind.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Emily wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I feel like I’ve dragged you into this crazy family and you’re just watching it self-destruct. I’d understand if you wanted to leave.”

  Trask let go of his wife and stared at her incredulously.

  “Why would you think I’d want to leave?”

  Emily was crying now. “Because, I feel like I’ve upended your life. I made you move to Montana after Derrick killed himself. I made you walk away from your career—”

  “I chose to move, Em. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.”

  “I know you hate the ranch—”

  “I don’t hate the ranch, it’s just different. I would follow you anywhere. You know that.” He took her hand, held up her ring finger where the diamond band caught the reflection of the sun. “When I married you, I swore to remain by you, in sickness and in health. When I married you, your family became my family. I’m not going anywhere, Em.”

  Emily threw her arms around her husband and sobbed into his neck. “She’s gone, isn’t she, Pete? My little sister’s gone…”

  “No, she’s not, Em. We don’t know where she is, but she’s alive. I can feel it.” Truth was, Trask actually did believe that Cassie was still alive. He’d only known his sister-in-law for a few years, but in that time, he’d come to the conclusion that she was unlike any other person he’d ever met. He’d known a lot of tough people in his life. Having grown up in Texas as the youngest of four boys, Peter Trask had a childhood that revolved around one thing: football.

  He’d gotten a full ride to play for the University of Utah, only to be injured his junior year. Eventually, he went to physical therapy school and worked for the team. In the football world, he’d met some physically and mentally tough individuals. Men who went on to play for the NFL. Men who had Super Bowl rings.

  But he’d never met anyone as tough as Cassandra Gale.

  She was hard to describe. She wasn’t macho, or domineering, or even intimidating. But she had this quiet energy about her. When she put her mind to something—she just did it. She was sharp, keen, and intelligent.

  Emily was different. She was a people pleaser—she cared deeply what other people thought about her, which made her more of an emotionally intelligent person than her younger sister. Cassie was headstrong. Calm under pressure. That is why her disappearance was so odd.

  Trask held Emily close as she continued to cry into his shoulder. He watched the river water lap gently on the shore, watched Maverick’s chest slowly rise and fall as he slept on the sand in front of them. Trask didn’t know what else he could do to help. Didn’t know what good the Cronin boys or even that old cantankerous bastard Alvin Petit could do with the horses. Cassie wasn’t in those woods—he just hoped that Jim would be able to get the FBI involved.

  Trask noticed that Maverick’s ears perked up and he raised his head, looking upriver. Following the dog’s gaze, he saw John Attla running down the shoreline from the village toward them.

  “Em,” Trask said and pointed at Attla. Emily wiped her eyes and stood.

  John stopped in front of them. “I need you to come with me.”

  “What is it?” Emily said, alarmed.

  “My grandmother has sent me out to find you. Please, come quick.” He turned and started hurrying back upstream without waiting for a reply.

  Emily and Trask shot each other furtive glances, then grabbed Maverick and followed the man.

  They jogged up the shoreline until they got to the edge of the village.

  John turned abruptly into the woods and led them on a small path.

  As soon as they entered the woods, John skirted around a corner and stopped before a small enclave, a hut of sorts, supported by small logs and wrapped in what looked like deer or elk hide.

  Odd-smelling smoke rose from the dwelling’s makeshift chimney. Trask wondered if this was some sort of sweat lodge. John reached for the flap in the hide and opened a small slit.

  “She’s inside.”

  Trask was hesitant, but Emily took Maverick by the lead and went in before Trask could stop her. Trask reluctantly followed, ducking under the flap, and was instantly met with a sharp-smelling purple smoke.

  Trask and Emily both coughed, and Maverick began to growl.

  Trask rubbed at his watering eyes and gasped at the sight before him.

  Eve Attla sat next to a small fire in the middle of the hut; she wore a bearskin cape that was draped over her shoulders, and eagle feathers poked out of her silvery hair. She was chanting in a low hum, rocking back and forth as a mysterious herb burned over the fire.

  But that wasn’t what had startled Trask.

  What made his mouth drop was the figure gagged and bound behind her.

  The VPSO.

  Max Tobeluk.

  Chapter 37

  “WHAT THE HELL is going on?” Trask said, backing away from Eve.

  Maverick growled at Tobeluk, who seemed to not notice that anyone had entered the sweat lodge. His eyes had a glazed-over, bloodshot appearance to them. Drool had slopped out of his gagged mouth and pooled in the dirt below. He lay on his side, his bound ankles and wrists almost touching.

  Eve continued to chant.

  John said, “We found him last night trying to get into his house. We had someone staking it out in case he came back.”

  “Why would you have someone watching his house?”

  “Because Max is a vile person. He poisons our people.”

  “What do you mean poisons?”

  “Alcohol is illegal in the villages in Alaska. Max is supposed to enforce that rule. But he is the person who brings in and sells the alcohol. It has ruined our village.”

  “Why didn’t you tell this to Trooper Ross or Sergeant Plant?” Emily asked.

  “Because they don’t know us or respect us. They will just send another corrupt VPSO. We will deal with Tobeluk ourselves.”

  “Why did you bring us here?” Trask asked, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

  John squatted down, picked up the mysterious herb simmering over the fire. “This is an indigenous herb only found in this part of Alaska. When it is inhaled in great quantities, it is said to show you the truth. You come face-to-face with your own inner spirit and the spirits around you. Last night, Tobeluk participated in this ritual.”

  “You drugged him?” Emily said.

  “We cleansed him,” John replied. “And he told us everything.”

  Eve suddenly stopped chanting and her eyes focused on the group.

  “Wake him, Grandmother.”

  Eve stood, took out a small leather pouch, and procured another herb. She mashed the herb in her hands, rubbing it profusely, then crouched down and blew the herb into Tobeluk’s face. The VPSO coughed and his eyes immediately bolted open. Eve took the gag from his mouth.

  He struggled, then let out a gurgling whimper at the sight of the group.

  Eve said something in her native tongue, and John translated, “Tell them, Max. Cleanse your soul and tell them what the spirits told you to say. Tell them what you did.”

  “Water,” Tobeluk croaked.

  Eve grabbed a water pouch and poured some into the man’s mouth. When he was satisfied, he sat up.

  “Tell them, Max,” John repeated.

  Tobeluk choked out a sputtering cry, “They, they took her!”

  “Who took her, Max,” John said, forcefully.

  “The
y did—we did.”

  “What are you talking about?” Emily said.

  “Ned and his people—me. We were all in on it. We took your sister and that kid. We hurt the dog.”

  “Where did you take them?” Emily demanded.

  “I don’t know, I was just paid to do cleanup on the campsites. Make it look like an accident.”

  There was a collective silence in the sweat lodge.

  “Where did they take Cassie?” Trask asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tobeluk sputtered. “I honestly don’t know. They just kidnap people from the woods. Make it look like they just wandered off, or a grizzly got ’em.”

  “You were the one who tore up the tents—put the food canister on the ground?”

  Tobeluk nodded.

  “You put Cassie’s gun in French’s backpack?” Trask asked

  “Yes. And her yellow coat over the moose kill.”

  “Why?”

  “I was drinking, I thought I could make it look like that kid was in on it. Nobody even investigates these cases up here—”

  “How did you take them?” Emily asked.

  Tobeluk sniffled. “At night. Ned has this gas, they call it knockout gas. It’s in a canister. Like the one you found. I forgot to clean it up. They shoot the canister out of this projectile launcher. Jake, Curtis, and Ned use them while Darlene drives the Zodiac up the river from Clinton Creek. I pick everything up in the morning and make it look like something it’s not.”

  “How did Maverick get that scar on his face?”

  “He attacked Curtis and Jake. Jake shot a canister at the charging dog. Hit him in the ribs, then Jake slashed him with his knife. I think he thought the dog was dead,” Tobeluk said, looking fearfully at Maverick.

  “And once my sister was passed out, where did they take her?”

  “The same place they took William French. Upriver to Eagle, then drove them to the airfield in Jack Wade.”

  “There is no airfield in Jack Wade,” John said.

  “They made one, behind the gold dredge. A long clear-cut. Most of their equipment is in the garages at Jack Wade. Open them, find out.”

  “And they flew them somewhere. Who flies them?” Emily asked.

  Tobeluk looked nervous. “They’re gonna kill me.”

  “Who flies them, Max?” John said. “Cleanse yourself.”

  “Vance.”

  Trask was shocked. “Trooper Vance?”

  “He’s on Ned’s payroll. That’s all I know, I swear. I’ve only known about this for a couple of years. This was the first year I actually helped them, I swear to God.”

  Trask didn’t know what to say; he looked at his wife, saw the astonishment in her eyes.

  “You don’t know where they take them?”

  “No idea. Ned doesn’t tell me anything. He just gives me whiskey or money as payment.”

  “And then you sell that whiskey to the villagers,” John said.

  “What about Ross, or Sergeant Plant? Are any of them in on it?” Emily asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Emily turned to Trask. “We need to tell my dad this immediately. We need to call Plant.”

  Trask reached for his phone. There was no service.

  “We gotta get back to the town,” Emily said, then gestured to John. “What will you do with him?”

  “He will stay here.”

  Emily grabbed Trask by the elbow. “Let’s hurry.”

  * * *

  As instructed, Ned had brought two vehicles to the airstrip. One for the new team and the other for him and his crew.

  Ned drove his red Ford F-350 behind the black Chevy usually parked in the storage garage in Jack Wade. The Russians drove the Chevy. Ned followed as best he could.

  “Why do those guys sound Russian, Ned?” Curtis asked when they were a mile outside of Eagle.

  “We working with Russians, Ned?” Jake said.

  “Shut up, both of you,” Darlene snapped.

  “We taking that Gale bitch?” Jake said. “I call shooting the dog.”

  “You do nothing unless I say so,” Ned growled.

  “And you do what the Ruskies say?” Jake asked.

  Ned flexed his knuckles on the steering wheel as the Chevy with the Russians came to a stop on the road just outside of Eagle. One of them climbed out and tapped on Ned’s window. Ned rolled it down and was given a flip phone.

  “You go in, locate subject. Then call. We extract her.”

  Ned grabbed the phone and pocketed it, trying to figure out when a good time would be to ask if he and Darlene could be extracted with them. He’d have to do it out of earshot of Jake and Curtis.

  “Like I said earlier, the girl is probably at her motel.”

  “Make sure. Then call.”

  The Russian walked away and Ned cursed, rolled up his window, and pulled back onto the road, heading into town.

  “If they ain’t at the motel, they’re probably out with the Montana hicks,” Curtis said.

  Ned scanned the roads, knowing that Curtis was probably right. He turned left on Front Street, parallel with the shoreline, the VPSO’s office in the distance.

  “Wait! Ned, there they are!” Jake yelled.

  Ned slammed on the brakes, his head darting around wildly—he caught movement on the shoreline, saw Emily Gale running with her husband and the dog toward town. They stopped abruptly when they saw Ned’s truck skid to a halt.

  They were easily a hundred yards away, but their body language was clear: they were scared shitless at the sight of his truck. Ned watched them backpedal and turn toward the village.

  “They know something’s up!” Curtis yelled.

  “No shit!” Ned roared and fumbled for the phone, pressed the speed dial, while throwing the truck in reverse. There was a click on the other line.

  “Got ’em on the shoreline, they spooked when they saw us. They’re running east toward the village.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, snapped the phone shut, and grabbed his knockout gas canister from beneath his seat.

  “Everyone out!”

  “It’s broad daylight, Ned. We can’t do this now!” Curtis said.

  “We don’t have a choice. Everyone out!”

  * * *

  Adrenaline thumped through Trask as he ran, arms pumping, legs straining to keep up with Emily and Maverick. He looked over his shoulder and saw Ned’s red truck reverse and then come to another stop. He saw Jake and Curtis fly out of the back of the truck. They had guns.

  “Run faster!” Trask screamed. “They’re armed!”

  Emily tripped on a piece of driftwood and Trask scooped her up, looking back again as Ned, Curtis, Jake, and Darlene cleared the guardrail and landed on the shore.

  Panicked, Trask tried to find the trail leading to the sweat lodge—but the bushy forest looked the same. He looked for smoke, but couldn’t spot any.

  “Where the hell is the trailhead?!”

  “I don’t know!” Trask looked around frantically. Ned and his crew were two hundred yards away and closing. He considered running into the river with Mav and Emily, but what would that do? It would take them right by the Northern Breeze crew. They’d be floating ducks.

  “We make for the village and hide,” Trask decided and they took off again.

  Trask remembered what Jim had said to him before leaving for Anchorage.

  You watch over her, Pete.

  They rounded the shoreline’s curve and saw squalid cabins and run-down lean-tos sitting interspersed in the woods. The Northern Breeze crew still hadn’t rounded the bend behind them. Trask did a three-sixty looking for a place to go, when a dark figure materialized out from the trees and onto the shore.

  Another followed.

  Then another.

  A fourth figure came out behind them. They were all dressed in dark clothing, black ski masks over their faces, and all had assault rifles that were aimed directly at them.

  Maverick growled, moving in front of Trask. Tra
sk grabbed Emily, putting himself between her and the men. They were thirty yards away and closing. Trask kept backpedaling, pushing Emily toward the river.

  Emily was screaming but Trask wasn’t registering.

  Then he caught movement to his right.

  Ned Voigt and his crew rounded the bend and something loud popped.

  Then another, pop, pop!

  Trask felt something icy-hot pierce his abdomen. Then again through his chest. He looked down, surprised, and saw blood rose-budding beneath his shirt.

  Maverick exploded forward, leaping on the man closest to them.

  Trask grasped at his chest and felt his knees buckle.

  There were more popping noises, and a loud yelp. Emily’s face was in front of his, her hands covered in his blood. She looked terrified.

  Trask felt himself fall forward, his face landing on the sandy shore. He tried to get up, tried to get to his feet, but he felt so tired. He turned ever so slightly just in time to see two of the men grab his wife and spray an orange mist into her face.

  Trask tried to call out, but his vocal cords were clogged with blood.

  He shifted again, this time on his back, and coughed. His eyes flickered on the impossibly blue sky above him and heard his father-in-law’s voice reverberate over and over in his head before all went dark.

  You watch over her while I’m gone, Pete.

  You watch over her.

  Chapter 38

  SOUTH OF EAGLE, ALASKA

  “OH MAN, WE’RE so screwed!” Curtis screamed from the front passenger’s seat of Ned’s truck as Jake drove like a bat out of hell down the road toward Jack Wade.

  “What the hell was that!” Jake yelled, gas pedal to the floor. “I thought we were supposed to do that quietly!”

  Minutes before, Ned and his crew had witnessed those Russian bastards murder Peter Trask and the dog in broad daylight on the shoreline and capture Emily Gale. Ned had been flabbergasted by the brazenness of the attack. When the bullets stopped flying, the four Russians told them to hurry back to Jack Wade, but Ned must have been in shock because he hadn’t been able to move his body. It had been Curtis and Jake who had grabbed him and Darlene and ran with them back to the truck.