Griz

by Raylan Kane

“That where you’re from?”

  “Texas actually.”

  Jen studied the man’s rugged jawline made all the more appealing in the campfire’s light. His broad chest pushed against his tight thermal wear. She could make out the ripple of muscle in his shoulders and biceps. The alcohol and the feeling of euphoria that she had survived the day had her head dancing and full of thoughts she knew better than to indulge.

  “Why are you here?” She blurted out.

  “Well, why are any of us here,” Cain said with a laugh.

  “No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean, why Branson? Why here?”

  “I’m a hunting guide. I’m always looking for the next extreme experience. I’d heard about this place from a few people. It’s supposed to be Alaska’s best kept secret for people like me.”

  “A big game hunter.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you just so happened to be wandering in the woods where I happened to be this afternoon. You just so happened to be there to save me.” Jen took another long haul off her flask.

  “I guess you could say I was lucky,” Cain said. A sly smile crept across his face. He dished out beans for the both of them.

  “Or maybe I’m the lucky one,” Jen said.

  “I’m thinking maybe you’re drunk.”

  “I think you need to drink some more.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  An hour later, Cain’s head had begun to spin, but he managed to focus enough to clear away the food remnants into a sealed bag. He put utensils and dishes in an airtight canister and doused the fire and drowned the ashes in water. He was excited by Jen’s presence, but he could barely stand. The electric lantern had died to just a glimmer.

  Cain could see Jen’s eyes were closing as she laid against the log. The rifle had fallen by her side as had the empty flask. He reached down to pick it up and Jen’s eyes opened.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Just grabbing the flask. Can’t leave it out.”

  “Okay.”

  “We should sleep. You can have the tent. I’ll sleep out here.”

  “D’you have an extra sleeping bag?”

  “Yes, it’s not the best, but it’ll do. I’ll use it,” Cain said. He reached down and picked up the flask. He had to grab the log in front of him to keep from falling over. Jen put her hand on his arm.

  “If you use the other sleeping bag, you’ll be too cold. We’ll share. You sleep in the tent, with me.”

  Cain couldn’t resist the temptation any longer and he could sense in Jen’s eyes she was feeling it too. He leaned in and kissed her. She returned the favor. In that moment the rush of emotion from the highs and lows and the extreme danger of that day flooded Jen’s mind and she crumbled entirely and gave in to her impulses. Cain was all too willing to indulge the beauty in front of him. The two grabbed at each other and laid on the forest floor. Feverishly they kissed and ran their hands over one another.

  “Wait,” Jen said. “Not here.”

  Half naked the two stood up and stumbled and giggled their way into the small tent. They slid into Cain’s sleeping bag and let their emotions and the boozy passion of the moment carry them away.

  Morning came and went and by midday the sun was high overhead and a bright ray shone through the forest canopy and the small portal window of the tent and directly on Jen’s face. She squinted as she opened her eyes. Her head pounded and for a moment the inside of the tent was a blur. A pang of nervousness hit as she noticed she was naked under the sleeping bag and alone in the tent. Oh my God, I can’t believe I did that.

  She found her shirt and pulled it on. She got out of the sleeping bag and could not find her pants. She spotted them folded just outside the entrance to the tent. Jen poked her head out and saw Cain relaxing against the log, fully dressed. He glanced over and saw her tangled mess of hair.

  “Good, you’re awake,” he said. “We should get going. It’s a bit of a hike to the truck.”

  “Okay,” Jen said. She reached for her pants and put them on out of Cain’s view in the tent. She couldn’t help but internalize Cain’s tone of voice. He seemed a bit chilly or indifferent. Maybe I’m overthinking it, she thought.

  They packed up the campsite with nary a word between them. Jen definitely got a cold vibe from Cain. He was business-like with his words and he would barely look at her.

  Cain led them out of the deep backcountry along a narrow river that led to a bush road Jen didn’t even know existed. Without a word spoken between them, they walked three miles along the bush road when they reached Cain’s pickup. They threw their packs into the bed of the truck and got in.

  Jen looked at Cain as he put the key in the ignition. “I just wanted to say thanks. Not sure if I’d said that before.”

  Cain glanced at her and then back at the wheel. “Don’t mention it.”

  EIGHT

  Sheriff Lake sipped his coffee and stared at his computer screen. A line of bold text caught his eye in his email inbox. The subject line read: For the Sheriff

  Tom clicked to open the email and a video box displayed in the field of the email with a message typed above:

  “Sheriff Lake, saw this video today and thought you might want to have a look. Thanks, Sherry Brown”

  Tom knew Sherry well, she was a town councilor who also owned Branson’s only beauty salon, Sherry’s. Everyone in town knew Sherry, with her big brassy laugh and friendly demeanor. Not everyone was a fan however, as Sherry could be fairly pushy in town hall meetings and pretty opinionated about how others conduct themselves both personally and professionally. Tom had become accustomed to calls and emails from Sherry through the years and he’d had his own run-ins with her now and again, but overall he knew Sherry’s heart was usually in the right place.

  He clicked play on the video and saw a young man, probably about 30 years old, with a blond buzz-cut, filming himself in a field Tom recognized was about two miles out of town. The field used to be private property belonging to the Tilson family, but was after Dennis Tilson’s death the family sold the land to the county and moved out of state. The house was eventually torn down and the fencing removed. It was just a sizable patch of long grass between Highway 5 and the vast wilderness north of town.

  The young man spoke in excited tones and Tom was immediately annoyed at we he perceived to be phoniness in the way the man presented himself and the way he spoke in over-enunciated terms.

  “Today, I’m here in Branson, Alaska,” the man spoke excitedly. “I’m here for the extreme adventure that is the Alaskan backcountry and there’s no other place in the world I’d rather be than right here. And today I have to show you something really special, something so incredible that I can barely believe that I’ve found this. Check this out.”

  The camera pans away from the man’s tanned face to a large patch of dirt. The sudden movement of the camera causes the shot to go out of focus for a second but after it auto-corrects a huge bear track, about the size of a car tire is easily discernible on the screen.

  “Holy hell,” Tom said.

  “Can you believe this?” The man said. “Look at the size of this grizzly track. This is a serious animal. See? This is what I’m talking about people. Branson, Alaska - this is the place for an extreme adventure. You wanna see the animal that made this track, don’t you? I know I do. And who better to see it with, than me? So, get on out here, sign up for my guiding experience, you can check out the details on my website, I’ll put the link below. Until then this is Cain Falstaff signing off from the beautiful Alaskan interior.”

  Tom sat back in his chair. Something about the bear track seemed almost too perfect, and the camera shot didn’t give any indication if there were more tracks visible. His cop spidey-senses were firing off in his brain. Something didn’t feel right. He called Jen into his office.

  “What’s up, boss?” Jen said.

  “I want you to take a look at this.”

  Jen walked around behind
the Sheriff’s desk and Tom moved his mouse to start the video again. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Cain’s face.

  “What is this?” Jen said.

  “Just watch,” Tom said.

  They’d reached the end of the video and Tom folded his arms and looked at his deputy’s red face.

  “You angry?” Tom said.

  “No,” Jen said. “What gives you that idea?”

  “Your face is red as a hot-house tomato.”

  “Oh, I guess I’m not feeling all that great today.”

  “Okay, well, I need you to go speak with this guy. Find out his story. He’s clearly trying to drum up some business with this massive bear track thing. I need to know if we’ve got another hoaxer on our hands here. The last thing we need is a bunch of poachers and other opportunists flooding this town with their bullshit.”

  “Maybe put Sivers on it?” Jen offered.

  “Sivers isn’t here. You are. You got a problem speaking with this guy?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  It was exactly that. After their drunken one-night stand at Cain’s campsite the other night Jen had done her best to put the hunky stranger out of her mind and focus back on her police work. She felt used and embarrassed that she’d let herself go like that.

  “Truthfully, boss, I think this guy’s a phony.”

  “Well, shoot, I could’ve told you that. But I think it’s worth looking into. See what we’re dealing with. Think you can handle that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jen walked out of Tom’s office muttering expletives to herself. She plunked herself down at her desk and looked for Cain’s contact info.

  NINE

  The radio blared alt-rock music as David Knight turned onto 3rd Street and parked along the curb in downtown Branson. He was parked in front of a two-story brick building, the Branson Post Office. Across the street sat a similar brown brick building. The lower floor featured a quaint diner with a large wooden sign painted white with blue lettering that read: The Whiskeyjack. Beneath the sign was a large glass window. David could see patrons seated at tables in front of the window. He was about to step out of his car when he saw a police truck pull up in front of the diner. His heart stopped when he saw Jen Marsh step out from the driver’s side and walk into The Whiskeyjack.

  He could scarcely believe his eyes and all at once a wave of regret washed over him. A feeling that he shouldn’t have made the trek all this way from Portland. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she’s married?

  It had been four years since they’d seen each other. Two college students living as roommates, both of them far away from their homes and exploring life in Portland together, as friends. Friends. That what they called each other, though each of them in their own private thoughts had yearned for something more. Jen was wild in those days. A singer in a punk band studying Criminology, more because she had to pick a major and she didn’t know what else to do. The idea of being a cop would have been a foreign concept to her then. David was an English major. A writer wannabe, an amateur novelist with a lot of talent and little drive.

  They grew close in the three years they’d lived together in off-campus housing. They had rotating third roommates over that time, to help pay the bills. On more than a few occasions they had house parties that got messy. Jen was always good at talking their landlord down and smoothing things over. She had a knack with people that David lacked. They were a team. Things got a little complicated though toward the end of their time in school. As finals approached they’d been flirting a lot and it culminated in a drunken night of debauchery that ended with the two of them making out in her room. She poured her heart out to him that night, and he broke it when he told her he didn’t feel the same. The truth was he was sleeping with one of his classmates and wanted to see where that went. Jen was cold with him after that conversation. Another two weeks went by with nary a conversation and then the school year ended and their lease was up. They hugged and went their separate ways after graduation.

  David wound up publishing the novel he’d been writing since freshman year and had a minor bit of success with it including a book tour up and down the west coast. His publisher was waiting for his follow up and after four years and with dwindling resources he was afraid to tell his agent he hadn’t even started. All he could think about was Jen, and what an idiot he’d been years before.

  Finally, he’d pooled the last of his savings and decided he had to see Jen again and let her know how he felt. He thought he’d pour his heart out to her this time and let the chips fall where they may, though obviously he was hoping that somewhere maybe, a candle still burned in the back of Jen’s mind as well.

  He was flustered, sitting there in his car. He stared at the front of the diner. He waited for a few minutes, thinking maybe Jen had just run in there for a second and she’d leave again. And he’d let her leave without saying hello, not yet anyway, he’d convinced himself that maybe he wasn’t ready. Screw it.

  David took a deep breath and opened the car door. He straightened his jacket and pretended to project confidence as he crossed the street to the diner.

  “Hey,” an old man in front of the Post Office barked, “you can’t park here.”

  David turned shocked and looked at the old man with a twisted up face and a fat belly.

  “Sorry,” David said. “Where should I park?”

  “Not here,” the man said. “This is reserved for postal customers.”

  “I’m just running into the diner for a minute.”

  “Don’t matter what you’re doin’. You can’t park here.”

  “Hey, pal, what’s your problem?” David walked back toward his car.

  “David?”

  He froze when he heard Jen’s voice behind him.

  “What the?” Jen’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “Hi, Jen,” David smiled and waved awkwardly from across the street.

  The grumpy old man saw the Sheriff’s Deputy and went about his business. Jen was stunned. She stood in front of her truck holding a box of donuts and a cup of coffee. David crossed the street over to her. He held his arms in a motion to indicate he was going to hug her, she held out the box of donuts and the coffee cup to indicate she wasn’t able to hug him. Inside that gesture stung him a bit.

  “What are you doing here?” Jen said. “I mean, sorry, how have you been?”

  “Good. Good. What about you?”

  “I’m good. I’m just - surprised.”

  David read the look on her face, to him it said ‘I’m unimpressed that you’re here’.

  “Yeah, well, I just thought I’d um, well, you’re a cop. I mean, I knew that, but wow.”

  “Look, it’s great, or I should say, it’s crazy to see you here of all places, David. But uh, I hate to do this but I’m super busy right at this moment.”

  “Oh no, I see, you’re working. I get it. I won’t keep you.”

  “Yeah, I mean. We should talk.”

  “Definitely.”

  “I never expected to see you here, I’m just, taken aback.”

  “I know, crazy right?” David said.

  “Are you staying at the motel? Kind of a dumb question, I realize, there’s nowhere else really.”

  “Yes, the Grasshopper Motel, I’m staying there. Do you want to maybe get some coffee after? Maybe grab a drink later or something?”

  The memory of excess whiskey and everything that went with it flashed into Jen’s mind.

  “Coffee,” Jen said. “Coffee sounds good. I’ll give you a call at the motel after my shift.”

  “Okay, great.”

  “Great.”

  David turned and walked back to his car. He watched Jen get into her police truck and drive off. David slammed his hand on the steering wheel and looked at himself in the rear view mirror while shaking his head.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  TEN

  Slunk down behind the steering wheel of
an unmarked F-250, Jen turned the radio volume down to be extra inconspicuous and sipped from a paper coffee cup. She’d been parked in front of the Grasshopper for nearly an hour. She recognized Cain’s pickup sitting in one of the parking spaces but she wasn’t sure which room was his.

  Jen couldn’t escape her feelings of embarrassment, almost shame, that consumed her sitting there waiting for a man she barely knew, a man she slept with for Pete’s sake, to emerge so that she could speak with him. She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t stalking him, that she was there on official police business - and she was - but she kept thinking she was fooling herself.

  She hadn’t felt a man’s touch in two years. Branson wasn’t exactly rife with eligible bachelors, and there was something about Cain that excited Jen in a way she hadn’t been in a long time if ever. She knew he was roguish and he came across as self-involved, but she couldn’t deny the emotion and the attraction that swelled within her as she thought back on that night in the woods. Tom had sent her to get the scoop on those big tracks Cain had featured in one of his videos, and despite Jen’s reluctance in front her boss, deep down she wanted an opportunity to see this man who made her feel uninhibited and rash once again.

  The metal door for Room #8 popped open. Jen’s stomach jumped and she slid down another inch in her seat. She glared at the dark opening and saw a young girl with a tiny frame and shoulder length blonde hair emerge. Wrong room? Wait a minute. That’s Corey Nado’s junkie girlfriend, Charlie Hill.

  Jen knew Charlie from the multiple calls she’d been sent on to Charlie’s apartment where once again Corey had hit her, and once again she’d refused to press charges. Charlie had grown up in Branson without a father and in a dysfunctional home where he mother was well known at the local tavern for being drunk pretty much every day. Jen often felt bad for Charlie, who’d been busted for pot a few times, though everyone in the department knew Corey had gotten Charlie hooked on the harder stuff. It’s how he kept control over her, and with nowhere else to go, Charlie was always too afraid to cross Corey or to help the police try and put him away for good.