What We Found

by Kris Bock

  We headed down the hill out of town. I imagined what might have happened if my brakes had gone out on that slope and I’d had to make the sharp turn onto the main highway at high speed, with traffic. I shook the thought away and tried to focus on birds. “That sounds bad. Can they survive on their own after they’ve been captive?”

  “Sure, it happens all the time. One guy in Kansas lost his bird and got a call four years later from Fish and Wildlife. They found a bird with his band number nesting on a building in Milwaukee.” He shrugged. “It’s good, in a way. Those birds are adding to the wild population. Falconers take birds out of the wild to breed them and hunt with them. Then birds go back into the wild, either intentionally released like the Peregrine Fund did when peregrines were going extinct, or sometimes by accident.”

  The forest opened up into the dryer lowlands with scrub desert ranchland. I remembered seeing Kyle from up on the ridge. Of course his actions that day made sense now—he was working with the hawk I’d seen soaring above. “I didn’t realize they’d been almost extinct,” I said. “I thought peregrines were one of the common kind.”

  “They are now,” he said. “They were nearly killed off in the wild because of the pesticide DDT, but falconers came together and bred their birds, and ended up releasing four thousand peregrines in North America. Some people get upset about captive falconry, but it’s because of falconry that we still have peregrines today. Falconers are big on conservation. We want to see wild lands preserved and the sky full of birds.”

  I smiled. “You don’t have to convince me. I think it’s great.”

  He glanced over and grinned. “Sorry for the soapbox. Anyway, back to your earlier question; if you’ve trained the bird right, it can return to the wild, no problem. That’s why apprentice falconers can only take two types of birds, red-tails and kestrels, and can only trap them out of the wild. Red-tails and kestrels are very common, and if you trap them wild, they’re already hunting, they’re not human imprints. If the apprentice loses them, the bird just takes up where it left off.”

  I thought about that as he pulled off to the edge of the road and got out. Nancy had mentioned that the falcons and hawks weren’t exactly pets, they were more like partners. But still, her affection was obvious, and Kyle’s, too. It couldn’t be that easy to let one of your birds go.

  I met Kyle at the back of the truck. “Have you ever lost a bird?”

  He shook his head as he opened the back window and lowered the tailgate. “This is the first bird that’s really mine, the one we’re flying today. I apprenticed in high school, but I’ve only really been getting into it since I came back. Nancy lost one once, though. It headed over the mountain and then went on to White Sands Missile Range. She had the telemetry signal, but they wouldn’t let her go out to pick up the bird. She went every day for a week, hoping it would leave the restricted area, but eventually the battery went out on the telemetry, and she had to give up.”

  As he talked, he dug through a bag one-handed and pulled out a heavy leather glove—or maybe gauntlet was a better term, as it covered most of his forearm. He pulled it onto his bad arm; the fingers of the glove had been folded over and taped down. He tightened the straps with quick, competent moves and then picked up a leather satchel and hung it across his body from one shoulder to the opposite hip. The whole time, the hawk screeched and ruffled her feathers.

  “Should I do anything?” I asked. He didn’t seem to need help, but I felt rude just standing around while he took care of everything.

  “Almost done.” He flipped open the latch on the cage and the bird hopped out, then up onto his leather-covered forearm. The hawk finally stopped screeching, glad to be free, I guess. She peered around with fierce black eyes. I had the urge to run my hand down her feathers, a gorgeous reddish-brown with white mottling. I wasn’t sure if it would be okay with Kyle, though—or with the bird. As beautiful as she was, the beady glare and hooked beak didn’t exactly invite cuddling.

  Kyle stepped back from the truck. “Okay, let’s go.” He glanced down at my feet. “I should’ve warned you to wear good shoes.”

  I would have said these were good shoes, comfortable beige flats that didn’t make my feet look huge. But to him, good shoes probably meant something like his hiking boots, which did make more sense for tramping through the desert. “How far are we going?”

  “Just a few hundred feet. Is that all right?”

  “It’s dry, so no problem.”

  I followed him away from the truck, glancing back once toward the dirt road behind us, and then up to the ridge far behind and above. What if somebody were watching us down here, the way I’d watched Kyle once before? We were farther away than he’d been when I watched him, too far to even identify a person, but if someone had binoculars….

  I shivered, turned back, and concentrated on placing my feet carefully to avoid loose rocks and spiky plants. I should’ve thought to bring jeans and other shoes to change into. Like so many things, it seemed incredibly obvious in retrospect. The flats that were comfortable on carpeted floors didn’t offer much protection against the small, sharp rocks littering the sandy field. I couldn’t keep up with Kyle’s long, brisk strides when I was worried about stubbing my toe or snagging my slacks on a bush.

  I caught a glimpse of something rotting and flinched. The memory of death and decay blurred my vision.

  I forced myself to take a closer look. It was only a dead cactus, slumped over and yellowed. Not a body. No way would we accidentally stumble on another one. I was just sensitive to decay now.

  Kyle had pulled ahead but paused to wait for me. I gave him a quick smile and looked down. There I was again, going off into the wilderness with a guy I barely knew. Was I stupid? Did I want to get in trouble?

  No. I’d made sure Ricky knew where I was and could track me. Kyle was not Jay. We had a clear reason to be here, and he had the hawk on his arm as a chaperone. This wasn’t anything like being with Jay. I wasn’t even the same person I’d been then. If anything happened that made me uncomfortable, I’d walk away, I’d call for help. I’d learned my lesson. And hey—I’d stood up to Mom last night. If I could do that, I could stand up to a man.

  I looked up at Kyle and smiled.

  The hawk spread her wings and flew away, landing on a bush fifty feet ahead. “She’ll wait for us there,” Kyle said. “What we’re doing is trying to flush game. Rabbits in particular. Once we scare up something, she’ll go after it.”

  I pictured the hawk tearing into rabbit flesh. I swallowed and nodded. Nascha had said rabbits could scream. Would we hear it?

  Kyle added, “She probably won’t catch anything, since she’s so young. She’s enthusiastic, but kind of clumsy. I’m starting her training now, and by this fall she’ll be a serious hunter.”

  I nodded again, my throat tight and my heart beating a little too fast. He studied my face. I was to his left, and he lifted his arm, the one missing its hand, but quickly dropped it again and shifted so he could reach out with his right hand. He didn’t touch me but hovered close enough to catch me if I stumbled or fainted. I didn’t think I would, but I felt lightheaded, flushed and cold at the same time.

  “Does it bother you?” he asked. “The thought of her killing a rabbit?”

  “No … not exactly.” I glanced ahead at the beautiful hawk. “I mean, I know she has to eat. And that’s how it happens in the wild. It’s only….”

  “You don’t want to see it.”

  “It’s not even that.” I glanced at the decaying cactus. Just a plant, nothing more. I took a deep breath. “I guess I’m a little sensitive to dead things right now.”

  He went still. I finally looked at him closely. That had been an awful thing to say. Maybe he’d forgotten, for a few minutes, about his sister. And I’d reminded him.

  “I know what you mean,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “No, you should. Believe me, it’s better to talk abou
t whatever’s bothering you.”

  “But she was your sister. You don’t want to think about her like that.”

  “Do you think I can ever forget?” He looked down, and I wondered if he was seeing her again—the way she’d been in life, or the way she’d ended up.

  I couldn’t look away from his face. “That part’s been hard,” I said. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to. I mean, there are people who will listen, but I don’t think I can tell them what it was like. I’m not sure I can explain. I’m not sure they want to know.” I thought of Ricky, his naïve enthusiasm about hunting a murderer. He didn’t understand. But I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. Let him be a kid for a little longer.

  “You can talk to me,” he said. “I know what it’s like. When I was deployed, I saw a lot of bad stuff. I can’t talk to my parents about it. Mom doesn’t want to hear it. Dad doesn’t get it. The only thing I ever did to make him proud was join the Army, and he doesn’t want to hear anything negative. Gran and Daniel would listen, but I don’t want to burden them. They already do so much for me.”

  I imagined what he must have seen—things far worse than what I had seen. He must think I was weak. I lowered my gaze.

  He put his hand lightly on my elbow. “You had a shock, and that makes it worse. I had some idea of what I was getting into in the military, even if the reality was worse than I’d imagined. And after those experiences, I knew what to expect with Bethany. That’s why I made sure I was the one to identify her body. I didn’t want to put my parents through that.”

  He knew what he would have to face, and he chose to face it to protect other people, even the father he didn’t like very much. While I had let Jay bully me into not calling the police right away. I glanced up and gave him a shaky smile. “I wish I had your strength.”

  His grip tightened. “You have the strength you need. It will come to you when you need it. But I hope you won’t need it often.”

  He jerked aside quickly and lifted his left arm. The hawk was coming toward us at eye level, gliding on widespread wings. I almost jumped back, but she landed on Kyle’s arm and tucked her wings, seeming to glare.

  Kyle chuckled. “She was getting bored. Maybe we should skip the hunt, though.”

  “No.” I tossed my hair back and smiled at him. “Let’s find her a rabbit.”

  Chapter 26

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “Yes. No reason she should suffer because I’m squeamish.” As he turned and led the way, I muttered, “Maybe it will be good for me.” He glanced back and smiled but didn’t comment.

  We strode across the desert, angling to pass by bushy patches where rabbits might be hiding. The hawk flew ahead again, soaring about twenty feet above the ground before landing on a small tree. She waited until we passed by, then made another hop, farther that time. Kyle raised his left arm to shoulder height. The hawk flew back and landed. Watching her come in sent a strange breathless thrill through my chest. I’d seen owls and eagles fairly close in the zoo, but there they were sitting quietly on perches. This was a glimpse of something wild and beautiful.

  After fifteen minutes my feet were hurting even though I was sure Kyle was going slower than usual for him. I tried to hide my limp and wondered how long this usually took.

  A jackrabbit bolted out of a bush twenty paces ahead. The hawk took off after it.

  Seconds later, she swooped down behind some bushes several hundred feet away. She rose up, made a small loop, and dropped down again. Something shrieked.

  Kyle was already running toward the action. I hurried after, though the distance between us quickly stretched. By the time I got there, he had the hawk on his arm again. She had a feather sticking out awkwardly from her wing. I didn’t see the rabbit and wondered if Kyle had hidden it to make it easier on me.

  “She got beat up,” Kyle said. “That rabbit had some moves.”

  “It got away?”

  He nodded and plucked a small tuft of gray fur from the bush. “She made contact. But this time, it looks like the rabbit won.” He opened his fingers and the small tuft of fur drifted away on the breeze.

  I was smiling. “The rabbit won!”

  “It happens sometimes. Fortunately for our girl, she won’t starve.” He looked into her black eyes. “It’s frozen quail for you tonight, my dear.”

  We turned back toward the truck. “You won’t try again?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “She’s had enough. It was a good training run.”

  We walked back to the truck in silence. I was still thinking about the rabbit. It might have been injured, but it was not a meal for a hawk tonight. Maybe that shouldn’t have pleased me so much. I really did understand that predators needed to eat. But it was nice to know that prey could fight back sometimes.

  Had Bethany fought back? If so, it hadn’t worked. She’d been a victim, and her predator was still out there. But not, I thought, here with me.

  Back at the truck, Kyle efficiently tucked the bird into her cage and stowed the rest of his gear. The whole trip had taken less than an hour. Now what? Would he drop me back at Mom’s car and say goodnight? When would I see him again? He might hesitate to invite me out on a hunt after the way I reacted this time.

  “Thanks for letting me come along,” I said.

  “No problem. It’s nice having you around. You’re …” He frowned thoughtfully and I held my breath. “Restful.”

  “Restful.” Just what every girl wanted to hear.

  “You don’t talk all the time. Not that I mind you talking—I’d like to hear you talk more. But you don’t babble every thought that comes into your head. You don’t complain about every little thing that happens to you, as if there were no bigger problems in the world than a bad parking spot. I get tired of people who can’t do anything but complain when they don’t have any real problems.”

  He smiled, looking perfectly at ease. “With you, I feel like I can be myself, say what I really think. I can relax around you.”

  Oh boy. He thought he could be open with me, when I’d been watching his every move for something suspicious. I couldn’t stand it. “There’s something I have to tell you.” My voice sounded thin and wheezy. He took a step closer, concern in his eyes. I wanted to duck my head, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’m not exactly—it’s—” I couldn’t think how to explain, so I blurted out, “I’ve been spying on you.”

  He looked more confused than angry, though no doubt the anger would come. I rushed on, hoping he might understand a little. “It was Ricky’s idea—not that I’m putting the blame on him, I went along with it. What I mean is, he likes mysteries, and thought we should help investigate this one. It’s stupid and probably useless, but I got so mad at—at someone else—that I agreed. And anyway, if I didn’t, Ricky would do it on his own and maybe get in trouble.”

  He leaned against the open tailgate of the truck, his head tipped to one side, eyebrows drawn together. His lips twitched in what might have been a smile, or something else.

  My face burned. “Anyway, we wanted to learn more about everyone, so when Ricky met Nancy and Daniel at the memorial, he made plans to see the birds. And it was really interesting and everyone was wonderful, but I feel terrible, because we were … we were there under false pretenses.”

  “And now?”

  I puzzled over that for a moment. “Oh, you mean am I here now for the same reason? Not … not exactly.” I ducked my head a little but kept my face toward his. “Kind of. Partly. But I really did want to come out today with the hawk—and you.” My face felt like it would burst into flames. “And I don’t think you had anything to do with it—the murder.” Not anymore, anyway. He didn’t need to know about my earlier doubts.

  “That’s good.”

  “We just wanted to learn more about Bethany, and this seemed like the easiest way.”

  He nodded, frowning, his arms crossed. He didn’t speak for what seemed like a long time. Finally he said, “So now what?”

>   “I….” What did he mean? “I don’t know.”

  “What’s next on your list? How are you going to investigate?”

  I gave a helpless shrug. “I’m not sure. Ricky thinks we have an advantage the police don’t, because we’re local and hear things. But I’m not sure I’ve heard anything useful, and I don’t know how to make sense of what I have heard. Ricky’s doing some research into the Bains, but I’m insisting he keep it to online stuff.”

  Kyle pushed away from the tailgate and took a step closer. “Keep away from Bain. He’s dangerous. Whether or not he killed Bethany, and whatever else you believe, trust me on that.”

  I nodded. He looked ferocious, but I didn’t think he was angry at me.

  He closed the tailgate and the window and walked around the car without another word. I got in, too, and shot a cautious glance at him. He seemed to be in his own world as he started the truck and pulled back onto the road. I kept my hands clasped in my lap and my mouth shut. I hoped I hadn’t ruined any chance we might have had of becoming friends.

  A few minutes later, he said, “Do you mind if I drop the bird off first?”

  “No, of course not. Oh, you don’t have to take me home—I borrowed my mother’s car. It’s at the resort.”

  “Okay.” He turned toward his house. I was going to open the gate, but before I could even undo my seatbelt, he put the truck in park and jumped out. I hesitated and then got out, too. “I’ll close it behind you.”

  “Don’t bother. We’re coming right back out again.”

  Right. “Then I’ll wait here and get it when you come out.” That way I could avoid Nancy and Daniel. I wasn’t ready for another confession. Maybe Kyle would tell them so I didn’t have to. Cowardly, perhaps, but I hated confrontation and I’d already had more in the last week than in nearly my entire previous life.