Hard Evidence

by Roxanne Rustand

  “But he still has that talent. It’s innate, isn’t it? If he tries—”

  “He can barely write. Trying anything beyond that just fills him with rage, and now he’s refusing to continue therapy.” Michael braced his palms on the counter and bowed his head. “It breaks my heart to see it, because there’s not a thing I can do for him except pray—and so far, those prayers haven’t been answered.”

  Ian strode back to the lodge, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his eyes still burning from the frustration of trying to awkwardly wield that stupid screwdriver.

  His fingers curled around the old knife that he still carried in his pocket every day, and he jerked it out, tempted to throw it way out into the woods where Dad would never see it. But after being a huge disappointment—a failure—in so many ways, what would one more thing matter? Ignoring Dad’s orders to stay near the lodge that day was nothing compared to everything else Ian had done.

  Trudging up the front steps of the lodge, he jerked open the screen door and stalked inside after the lemonade Janna wanted. He paused, uncertain where to look. In the big kitchen meant for the restaurant area? The private quarters?

  The old lady, Claire, stuck her head out of a hallway leading to the family quarters, glared at him and slammed the door shut…so that probably wasn’t an option.

  From over by the fireplace, Rylie looked around the edge of a big leather chair. Her face brightened. “Ian! You did come!”

  Guilt slithered through his stomach at her obvious joy. He hadn’t come to see her once since she’d gotten hurt…but maybe it was that same feeling of guilt that kept him away. If he hadn’t selfishly hurried up the trail and left her behind, nothing bad would have happened.

  It was just one more time that he’d been a total jerk and caused someone a lot of pain.

  “Uh…hi.” He lifted a shoulder, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place. “Your mom said I should come get some lemonade.”

  Rylie’s face fell. “Oh.” She pointed toward the double doors leading into the restaurant. “It’s probably in the big kitchen. Go through there.”

  Feeling even worse, he tried to think of something else to say. Everyone here had to hate him, after he had so thoughtlessly left Rylie on the trail.

  He made himself cross the room. “So…whatcha doing?”

  “Nothin’.” She gave a weary sigh and closed the oversize spiral notebook laying in her lap. “It’s sorta boring, ’cause I’m not good on my crutches yet.”

  He took a second look at the notebook. Art paper. The cheaper stuff, to be sure, but still his heart twisted and his fingers itched to take the pencil she held—as if his hands had a mind of their own.

  As if, in this lifetime, he could ever draw again.

  She withdrew a little at the expression on his face, so he made himself smile and ask to see her drawings, knowing that her childish sketches would probably intensify the deep gnawing feeling in his gut.

  She hesitated, then shyly opened it to the first page.

  “It’s my dog, Maggie,” she ventured shyly. “I know it’s not very good. And this is Aunt Tessa’s horse…”

  She flipped through several more sketches, and it wasn’t until the fourth page that Ian remembered to breathe.

  The drawings were just what he’d expected of someone who was nine. Nothing special. But the scent of the paper and graphite hit him like a wave of intense homesickness—powerful, overwhelming. The ache blossomed in his chest and grew until it felt as if he would explode.

  “Is s-something wrong?”

  He heard the tremble in her voice but couldn’t form a response. He blinked. Stared. Then closed his eyes and remembered a thousand early sketches of his own. His excitement when Mom had started taking him for lessons at the Art Institute. The thrill of learning and growing, and at hearing the murmured praise of passersby when his projects were posted on the display board in the hall.

  Her lower lip trembled as she closed the book. “I know,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. “I’m not very good at drawing.”

  He shook off his memories. “Yes you are, Rylie. I was just, um, surprised. I didn’t expect—”

  He broke off on a sob that came out of nowhere, over all that he’d lost. The skill and talent that had made him special. That had filled him with joy.

  And whenever he inadvertently allowed himself to remember what had been, the wrenching guilt and grief over his mother was soon to follow.

  “I…I gotta go.” He spun around and hurried for the door.

  “But the lemonade—”

  He didn’t go back. He couldn’t answer. He just ran for his cabin, ignoring the screaming tendons in his bad leg and praying Dad wasn’t there, so he could be alone.

  The cabin was dark. Cool. Quiet.

  He rushed through the combination living and kitchen area to his bedroom. Slammed the door and flung himself onto the bed just as his hot tears started to fall. I never cry. I never cry.

  A quiet thud came from just outside his door. Then another. With it came the eerie realization that he was not alone. His heart lodged in his throat.

  “Dad?” he said softly. “Is that you?”

  A floorboard squeaked. The hinges of the cabin’s screen door squealed faintly, as if being slowly, slowly opened.

  “Dad?” he whispered again.

  But the only reply was the sound of a twig snapping, the faint rustle of leaves outside the cabin.

  And the thundering of his heart.

  “I don’t like leaving all of you here alone,” Michael said. “If it wasn’t for the Monday-night city council meeting, I wouldn’t go. It’s one of the requirements of my job.”

  “I’m a big girl,” Janna said firmly. “I can handle things here—and I can also call for help, if need be. We’ll keep Ian up at the lodge until you get back, but I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  He stared over her shoulder at the lane that meandered up the hill to the cabins. “I still don’t like it. If Ian was right, someone was in our cabin on Saturday in broad daylight, and I’ll bet it’s no coincidence that someone tampered with Claire’s tires.”

  That was certainly true. The wrecker guys had figured it had taken about a half hour for the tires to deflate—which meant the damage had probably been done when Claire had stopped to check on her cattle. She would have been on Snow Canyon Ranch land, not far from the lodge.

  Still, Janna knew she could hardly expect Michael to babysit them all day and night. She gestured toward the door. “You’re forgetting that I’m a ranch girl. I grew up shooting coyotes, and the gun rack in my mother’s pickup was never empty. She probably shot more varmints than I could count over the years. We had to protect our calves.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “Go. You said they were discussing budget cuts on law enforcement tonight. Heaven knows what they’ll decide if you aren’t there to speak up.”

  “You’ll lock the doors and windows?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “Keep everyone inside?”

  “Of course.”

  “Call me every half hour?”

  She shooed him down the steps of the lodge, though inwardly she was warmed by his concern. “That’s going a little far. See you back here—” she glanced at her watch “—around ten?”

  “Or earlier.” He jogged out to his patrol car and opened the door, but turned back before climbing inside. “We’re going to get to the bottom of all of this trouble before Ian and I move to town, Janna. I promise you.”

  She watched him drive away, his car nearly obscured by the cloud of dust it raised, and felt a small, empty place in her chest when he was out of sight.

  He and Ian had dutifully worked on Cabin One all weekend, while she’d gone up to Cabin Ten to start clearing out all the rubble in that one. Once the piles of whiskey bottles and tacky magazines were hauled out, the cabin was in surprisingly good condition, so it was next on her list. And with Lauren Young starting work tomorro
w she could make even faster progress.

  All good—though Michael and Ian’s eventual departure would definitely be a sad ending to the summer. Once the plumbing and rewiring was finished in their house on the edge of Wolf Creek, the roofers would start, and then Michael would start some of the smaller projects inside.

  Even though the number of lodge guests would be growing, she knew it would seem like a very lonely place after the two of them were gone.

  No longer feeling quite so upbeat, she went back into the lodge and dutifully locked all the windows and doors, pulling shades and blinds as she went.

  She found Claire dozing in a recliner in her bedroom, so she quietly locked the windows, then tiptoed out. Out in the lobby of the lodge, Ian was playing a handheld video game, and Rylie bent studiously over her drawing tablet. Maggie snored softly in front of the flickering warmth of the fireplace.

  Ian put his game down and leaned over to look at Rylie’s picture. His brows drew together as he pointed to several places and muttered something to her. He was coaching her? Until now, he’d been wrapped up in himself—with good reason—but this could be a promising sign.

  Delighted, Janna settled at a table in the corner and started working on her latest stack of bills, glancing at the kids now and then. Sure enough, Rylie beamed up at Ian a moment later, then went back to her drawing.

  Suddenly the door to the family’s wing of the lodge flew open and bounced against the wall with a resounding crack. Startled, Janna launched to her feet at the sight of Claire standing in the doorway, her robe hanging off one shoulder and her hair disheveled.

  “The shotgun—where is it?” she demanded as she strode into the lobby. She rapidly scanned the room, as if expecting to find one hanging on the wall. “I need it. Now.”

  Rylie and Ian both jumped, then turned to look at Janna, their eyes wide.

  “Um, Mom,” Janna soothed as she hurried over to Claire. Was she delusional? “Everything’s fine.”

  “There’s a bear outside. I can hear it,” Claire snapped. “And unless you want it ravaging your trash cans, you’d best scare it off—or I will.”

  “I don’t think—” Janna stilled. Now she could hear some sort of ruckus outside, too—filtering down the long hallway of the north wing.

  But the distant sounds were coming from the direction of the cabins, not the well-secured trash cans outside the kitchen door.

  “Just leave it be, Mom. It can’t do much harm.”

  Claire gave her a look of utter disdain. “Give me a rifle or a shotgun if you’re afraid, city girl.”

  There were weapons in the lodge, but they were safely locked away, thank goodness. Only Janna had the key.

  She lifted her cell phone from her pocket and speed-dialed Michael, spoke to him briefly, then ended the connection. “No one is going out in the dark to confront a bear, Mom. That just doesn’t make sense.”

  “In my day I handled a lot worse than this.”

  Ian and Rylie were now staring at the two of them, their faces pale.

  Janna forced a calm smile. “I’m sure you did, but we’re still staying inside.”

  If it wasn’t a bear, it could be something far worse. And there was no way she’d let anyone take that chance.

  TEN

  Janna fingered the key to the gun case—one of many keys on a ring in her pocket. The noise outside probably was just a bear looking for food. Maybe one of the kids had left a candy bar or half-eaten sandwich by one of the cabins, and the scent had lured a passing sow and her cubs.

  Still, Janna mentally counted the strides it would take to reach that gun case, the motions required to unlock it, and load ammo into her favorite old Remington. Three minutes, tops, and she’d be armed and ready for anything that tried to break into the house.

  Those steps became a constant, silent litany running through her head, because if anything tried to come through the door, it wouldn’t be a bear. Only a two-footed predator would try that kind of assault.

  So between planning each move she’d need to make, she lectured herself on facing off against another human being. Could she do it? Could she pull the trigger?

  One glance at her frightened daughter and Ian, whose freckles now stood out in sharp relief against his pale face, and she knew she could do anything to defend these children—even if it meant facing the consequence of nightmares for the rest of her life.

  “Lord, please let it be just some old, moth-eaten bear rambling around outside…and make him just wander away,” she prayed quietly. “And please, Lord, protect us from all harm. In Your blessed name we pray, Amen.”

  “Amen,” Rylie echoed.

  Ian shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but didn’t chime in. “I could go out and chase it away,” he blurted after an awkward pause. “I’m not afraid of some stupid bear.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Janna smiled at him to soften her words. “Though I do appreciate your offer.”

  He wouldn’t be that foolish, but Janna hadn’t been too sure about Clair. Knowing that her unpredictable mother might just go out the private entrance unarmed and defenseless in sheer defiance, Janna had insisted she stay in the main area of the lodge with everyone else.

  So now Claire sat in an easy chair by the fireplace, impatiently flipping through the stack of ranch magazines Janna had brought to her. Occasionally, she looked up and fixed Janna with an irritable look that spoke volumes, even though Claire had refused to say another word.

  All four of them sat up and listened intently at the first, faint sound of tires crunching up the lane.

  “That’s Dad—I know it is,” Ian announced as he rushed to a window and peered out, male bravado once again ringing in his voice.

  A second later Janna’s cell phone rang.

  “I’m here,” Michael said. “But I’m going on up to the cabins to take a look around. Just sit tight.”

  “A-alone? In the dark?” Janna bit her lip, imagining how many dangers could be lurking in the darkness. Unseen, until it was too late. “Wait until daylight at least.”

  He chuckled softly, his easy confidence reassuring her in a way no words could have. “This is my job. I don’t take chances.”

  “But—”

  “I have a spotlight on my car. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She held on to the cell phone with both hands long after he disconnected, and joined Ian at the window. The headlights of the patrol car swung wide, sweeping an arc of illumination across the lodge. Then the vehicle slowly headed up the lane, its spotlight penetrating the rows of trees surrounding the first couple of cabins.

  When the taillights disappeared over the first rise, Ian looked over at her. “You look worried, but my dad knows what he’s doing.”

  Smiling at the pride in his voice, she reached over and gave him a one-armed hug. “I’m very glad you’re both living here, honey.”

  At the gentle endearment, he seemed to melt against her, as if he were starving for a motherly touch, but then he stiffened and awkwardly pulled away. “It’s cool here. Better than I thought, I guess.”

  She grinned. “I feel exactly the same way. Especially after you and your dad worked so hard on that cabin last weekend. Did your dad tell you that I want to pay you?”

  “Uh…” he shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t take it. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “I think it’s only fair,” she countered.

  “He’s the one you should pay, if anyone. At least he knows what he’s doing.”

  “He refused my money, too.” She burst into laughter at Ian’s smug expression, which told her that she’d just made his point for him—just as he’d planned. “Stinker.”

  He sauntered back to his chair and video game, but the air in the room had changed, and her heart warmed as she watched him settle sideways in the chair, his gangly legs draped over the armrest.

  A connection at last. They’d finally communicated without all of the walls that Ian had built around himself. He’d let it
happen, she realized, because he’d seen how worried she was and had wanted to help.

  The perceptive, thoughtful side of him touched her heart.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Time for bed, Rylie, but I’m going to get your pajamas and keep you down here for a while longer. You can brush your teeth down here, too.”

  By the time she’d finished Rylie’s bedtime routines and settled her on a sofa with some blankets, Michael was walking up the front steps of the lodge.

  Relieved at his safe return, she met him on the porch and closed the front door behind her for more privacy. “Did you see anything?”

  In the shadows, his face appeared weary and drawn. “Nothing moving out there now. But you definitely had a guest. Several, I’d guess.”

  Janna’s blood chilled. “What did they do?”

  “You were working on the farthest cabin over the weekend, right?”

  “I cleaned out the trash and started emptying out the cupboards.” She shuddered, remembering the thick layer of mouse droppings on the shelves. Even the floors were thick with them, and her first assault with pine disinfectant hadn’t begun to obliterate the smell of decay and mustiness. For that job, she’d worn a face mask as much for the dust as for the risk of hanta virus exposure from the droppings.

  “You locked it up afterward? Didn’t go back for a wild party with your friends?”

  “As if.” She managed a nervous laugh. “Of course I locked it.”

  She could sense that he didn’t want to scare her. That he was searching for the right words, but his hesitation made her tension escalate all the more.

  “Cabin Ten was unlocked. The doors and windows were wide-open. Looks like someone had a major pizza party, because three or four greasy take-out boxes were thrown inside, and I found more along the trail.”