Victoria Houston - Loon Lake 14 - Dead Lil' Hustler

by Victoria Houston

  Maybe Osborne was right and he should have brought along a flashlight. But even so he would have stuck it in the backpack, which would have put it out of reach and useless in this situation.

  Ray got to his feet, hoping he hadn’t stumbled into sewage but there was no odor. The canal was manmade and must be part of the irrigation system. That was a good sign. After climbing out of the canal, he could see ahead that the evergreens gave way to a forest of hardwoods where he hoped to find it much easier going. Could be he was not far from the Pine River where he planned to set the third howl box.

  After wringing the water from the sodden legs of his sweatpants, he adjusted the backpack, stepped over the canal, and was hurrying to a small clearing where he could set the second howl box when he tripped. He looked down at a weathered two-by-four half hidden by grasses. Now how did that get here? Looking up he could see the vestiges of an abandoned tree stand some deer hunter had built about twelve feet up and cantilevered over the branches of a good-sized maple. Rickety footholds were nailed at random angles into the trunk of the tree. Even in the dark, Ray could see the stand was so weathered with gaping holes in the platform overhead that it hadn’t been used in years.

  Kicking aside the two-by-four, he knelt to set up the second howl box. Just like the first one, it had a tiny red light that went on to indicate he had them turned on and ready to receive signals from the remote units back in the trunk of Lew’s cruiser.

  He knew he had to hurry because the wait in the woods and the fall into the canal had taken more time than he had planned. On the other hand, there was no estimating exactly how long this might take given the trek through woods in the dark, so he decided to slow down to be sure he set the third box up correctly.

  He reached a section of swamp that had been indicated on the Gazetteer and skirted it to find just the right location where a initial blast from the howl box, given the direction of the night breezes, would be an ideal opener for the evening—slightly distant from the others and very likely a spot the pack itself might howl from on occasion. Yep, this would be just perfect for the last howl box, which was in his backpack. Sitting down to zip open his backpack, Ray had pulled out the box and was leaning forward to position it on top of a tree stump when he glanced up.

  That’s when he saw the eyes: glowing flame-red against the darkness… all around him.

  He stood stock-still, a familiar mantra running through his mind: Wolves have never been known to attack humans.

  It was a mantra from childhood. His father had told him that for the first time right after he had taken Ray deer hunting and they had met a wolf on an old railroad track. Ray would never forget how the wolf, which was about fifty feet away, had stood perfectly still watching them.

  “Do not make eye contact,” his father had warned. “That can be perceived as a threat. I want you to stand your ground, yell, and wave your arms until he runs off.” The wolf did not move. “Okay,” his father had said, “that isn’t working so now we back away. But don’t turn around—we have to try to appear intimidating.”

  And so father and son had backed away slowly, hollering at the top of their voices. It seemed forever that the wolf stood right where it was, watching. When they reached their car, which was parked at an old rail crossing not far away, and scrambled in, Ray’s father had exclaimed so loudly with an uncharacteristic curse that Ray knew he had been terrified.

  Ray forced himself to keep working: position the howl box, flip the switch to turn it on, double-check the switch, now stand up. The eyes were still there, knee-high and watching. He couldn’t make out any shapes in the dark but he figured they had to be wolf pups. He picked up his backpack and started to back away along the edge of the swamp, keeping the eyes in his peripheral vision yet trying hard not to look directly at them either. Yelling was not an option—not if the routing of the drug cartel was to go as planned. And not to mention that one yowl from him and, whether it be man or beast, he’d be lucky to get out of the Nicolet National Forest alive.

  At first, the eyes following him seemed curious. Then more sets of eyes, taller than the early ones, joined the crowd. The eyes seemed to move closer and he half expected to feel a curious snout sniffing at the legs of his wet sweatpants. Twice he thought he heard a low growl but he refused to think about it.

  Backing through the woods was more difficult than he had hoped. Twice he stumbled backwards but managed to grab branches and stay upright. The eyes moved in closer. He thought about calling for help on his cell phone, which was in the backpack, but remembered that Lew had arranged for all cell service to go down. That was not an option.

  But the thought of his backpack jogged a critical memory—earlier he had shoved a roast beef sub sandwich in there. It was supposed to have been his dinner but the preparations that night had gotten so busy he never got around to eating it. Along with that thought came a vision of the packages of venison chops in his freezer. If only he had those in hand, then he might have a chance. One thing he knew—everyone in the Northwoods knew—was that wolves love deer meat. But he did not have any venison. All he had was one roast beef sandwich. The challenge was how to turn around so he could get it out safely without looking weak and frightened. The roast beef sandwich. It wasn’t much but maybe, just maybe…

  A plan started to take shape in Ray’s head but it could work only if he was able to retrace his steps with some accuracy. Continuing to keep the glowing eyes in his peripheral vision, he tried to glance around and see if he was on track, returning the way he had come. At first it seemed impossible to tell where he was going but if he could just turn around and take a good look, he might be able to orient himself.

  He was still backing up when his right foot struck something hard. He dared to take a quick look down: ah, the old two-by-four. A few seconds later he felt a sturdy tree trunk against his back. Okay, let’s go for it, he told himself.

  Holding the backpack out in front, he did his best to look past the eyes staring at him as he zipped open the backpack, grabbed the sandwich, and in one motion, ripped off its crisp tissue wrapping. He flung it forward as hard as he could. He could hear it falling in soft clumps as it came apart in the air.

  Yelping and shoving, the pups dove for the prize. The eyes disappeared. Turning around so fast he nearly broke his nose on the tree trunk, Ray grabbed for the footholds and, wobbly though they were, pulled himself up one after the other. He hoped to hell the rusted nails wouldn’t pull out. They held, and scrambling he managed to find one toehold after another.

  Hauling himself up onto the rotten platform, he crouched on the few wooden planks still there and prayed his weight wouldn’t dislodge them. From down below he could hear branches snapping as the pups tussled and yelped, tearing at the clumps of bread and roast beef. For an absurd second, he wondered if they preferred mustard or mayonnaise.

  He could see better now and the figures of at least six pups emerged from the shadows. Behind them were taller shadows: the adults. He counted four. Very likely two were the parents—the alpha male and alpha female.

  Time stood still as he watched from the tree stand, barely breathing. Maybe he was just not very interesting or maybe a new prey had surfaced somewhere but as quickly as the inquisitive eyes had appeared, they were gone. Still Ray waited. He was ready to wait until dawn if he had to—drug cartel and marijuana trafficking aside. The goal at the moment was to stay alive.

  He figured he’d waited at least twenty minutes before he was sure the wolves weren’t coming back. Slowly, pausing on each a rung as he went, he lowered himself onto the forest floor. Then he ran.

  He flew over the canal then slowed, determined to keep his distance from the latrine, then picked up his pace as he neared the aspens crowding the road where he had left Lew and Doc. A shooting pain in his left eye forced him to stop. Too many shadows. He had run right into the pointed end of spindly young red pine. The pain was so intense that he had to stop, take a deep breath, and place one hand over his eye until he
could be sure he wasn’t bleeding. He slowed to a cautious walk. Even though he was sure he had to be close to the road, he made himself move with both hands held out in front of him, desperate to keep from damaging his other eye.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Back at the police cruiser, Osborne and Lew waited, the sounds of the forest growing louder as the minutes ticked by: rustlings, owls hooting, the scream of a rabbit losing its head.

  Lew began to pace back and forth. “Doc, it’s been over an hour. According to Ray’s plan, he should have been back twenty minutes ago. Something’s happened.”

  “If anything happened, I think we might have heard it,” said Osborne, not mentioning gunshots being one guarantee that Ray’s mission had gone bad.

  “I’m going in,” said Lew. “I know the direction he was headed. I am sure I can use a flashlight without alerting anyone.”

  “Not a good idea, Lew,” said Osborne. “You don’t really know where he was going once he disappeared behind these aspen. Let’s hold on five more minutes.”

  “Okay, five minutes. Then I may have to call this operation off.”

  A whisper of soft footsteps and a tall shadow emerged from the wall of aspen. At first Osborne was as relieved to see his neighbor as he had been at the sight of Cody sitting up in his fish hat earlier. Then he became aware that Ray was staggering.

  “What on earth?” Lew spoke first. “What happened? Have you been shot?”

  “No, no, it’s my eye… I ran into a branch. I’ll be fine… we’ll worry about it later.”

  “Oh, no, we won’t,” said Osborne. “You need the emergency room—now. I did that once and you have to get it treated tonight, I mean this morning.”

  “All right,” said Ray, “but I don’t think that one more half-hour is going to kill me. Let’s get this done first…”

  Just then two figures emerged from the dark in front of Lew’s cruiser: Alan Strickland and Ron Hardin, the DEA agent who was working with him.

  “Chief Ferris?” asked Alan in a low voice. “What the hell is happening? This operation is almost an hour late by my watch.”

  “Just a brief setback,” said Ray, one hand over his eye.

  “What do you mean ‘a brief setback’?” asked Alan.

  “I said it’s nothing,” said Ray. “I’m ready to set the howl boxes off right now.”

  “We have to get him to the hospital,” said Lew. “He ran a tree branch into his eye. Just as soon as we’ve finished here, Doc and I will—”

  “That’s it. Everything’s off,” said Alan, making a chopping motion with both hands. “Forget this ridiculous setup.”

  “Alan,” said Lew in a warning whisper, “keep your voice down. Doc is ready to take Ray in for treatment as soon as we’ve run the operation.”

  “That’s nuts. I’m calling for the SWAT team first thing in the morning.”

  “Maybe…” said Ray, walking to the back of the cruiser where the lid of the trunk was open, “… maybe you could calm down and let us give this a try… no skin off your nose, right?”

  Alan snorted and motioned to his colleague. “Remind me of this conversation in the morning when we’re marshaling the troops, will you?”

  “I think it’s worth a try,” said the other man. “Pradt is right—we’ve got nothing to lose and maybe all we hear are a bunch of howling wolves but I’m in. I want to see this.”

  “Thank you, Ron,” said Lew. “Okay, Doc, Ray, are we ready? I’ll flick my lights so Sheriff Moore and his people know we’re ready.”

  She and Osborne stood at the back of the cruiser just behind Ray. The trunk was open and the interior light shone down on the three units used to control the wolf howl boxes. Ray dropped his hand from his eye and leaned over to check the signals on the remotes in front of him. Meanwhile, the two police vans had moved in close to the entrance to the dirt road. Looking around at the officers and deputies on foot, Lew counted twenty-two men and women poised to provide backup.

  “If these fellas are all from south of the border… think they’ll understand English?” asked Ray in a whisper.

  “They’ll understand a badge and a gun,” said Lew. “That’s what counts.” She checked her watch. “Ready… go.”

  Ray threw the first switch and dialed the volume on the first box to a level three out of ten. “This box is twenty yards below where they’re sleeping,” he said.

  He threw the second switch and dialed the volume to a similar level. “This one is closer to the building… and the third box is right in line with the windows… it should sound closer than the first two.”

  Osborne could hear a faint howling. Slowly, steadily Ray turned up the volume on all three boxes. “Yes… the wolves are closing in,” said Ray with a grim smile.

  At level ten, the sound of wolves howling in the dark reverberated through the forest.

  They waited.

  In less than ten minutes, a utility truck alleging to be the property of Jeselnik Plumbing, Heating, and Excavating barreled up the dirt road. At the sight of the first police van, the driver skidded to a halt. The second van pulled in behind the truck at an angle that made it impossible for the driver to back away. Searchlights raked the side of the utility truck and two squad cars pulled alongside it.

  “This is Sheriff Moore,” said a voice over a loudspeaker from one of the two vans. “Come out with your hands up and no one will be hurt.”

  Not a shot was fired. Out of the van tumbled nine terrified people: five men, two women—one expecting—and two children. Found in the van were two Winchester 30-06 rifles fitted with telescopic lenses and twenty-two Ziploc bags filled with marijuana and marked with addresses or phone numbers for delivery. Hidden under the driver’s seat was an envelope containing $12,000 and with the letters “BJ” scrawled in black pen on the front.

  • • •

  “Ray, Doc, this may turn out to be the biggest drug bust in the history of Loon Lake, maybe even the county,” said Lew with a satisfied grin as they drove back into town. “I can’t believe that we have the names and addresses of the dealers they were delivering to. By the time Sheriff Moore and I collar those people and track down their customers, we will have shut down one hell of an operation.”

  “Oh, this goes way beyond the county, Chief,” said Ray. “Based on the reaction from Strickland’s DEA buddy… you and Sheriff Moore may have pulled off… one of the biggest drug busts in the state… certainly in recent years. You better ask for a raise.”

  Lew grinned even broader. “Thanks, Ray, but do you know what pleases me most? No one got hurt. When I saw those two little kids, all I could think was how bad it might have been if we had gone in with the SWAT team. We wouldn’t have known…”

  “And think of the long-term damage for those children,” chimed in Osborne. “What a nightmare for a kid: grown-ups shooting guns, their family members killed. This may not be the best situation for them right now but it’s certainly better than witnessing acts of violence.”

  “Speaking of violence,” said Ray, “I haven’t had a chance… to tell you two what happened to me back in there. First… I almost gave us away when I was setting up the first howl box… and two people showed up.”

  “What?” asked Lew. “How did you handle that?”

  “I hid back in the trees… it was one of the women taking one of the kids to the outhouse… a latrine, really. Next… I slipped and fell into one of their irrigation canals… you know,” Ray shook his head, “I still can’t believe I didn’t let out a sound… or drop one of the howl boxes… I mean, I went down wham.”

  Lew and Osborne chuckled as he spoke. “Well, you’re safe and sound now except for that hole in your eye.”

  “And that is not even the worst… I’m down near the riverbank the other side of the swamp that’s back in there… when I look around and see all these red eyes… staring at me from the dark.”

  “Oh—the wolf pups?” asked Lew.

  “Yeah, first the pups then mom and
dad… then their cousins and their aunts and uncles… I counted ten wolves trying to decide if I smelled good enough to eat.”

  “So that’s what took you so long?”

  “You better believe it… I tried to remember everything I’ve ever learned about dealing with wolves… because oddly enough I have only ever seen one up close… and that was when I was a kid hunting with my old man.

  “Keep in mind wolves have been almost extinct around here… until the last five years or so. So I was doing all the things you’re told to try to appear intimidating… which is not easy when you’re walking backwards into a pitch-dark forest. At one point I was ready to call for help on my cell… when I remembered that you took down cell service.”

  “Oh, Ray,” Lew turned to look at him in the backseat. “You must have been terrified.”

  “I was. And I don’t mind telling anyone I was… but I had a sandwich in my backpack that I was able to toss at them… and that kept them busy long enough for me to scramble up an old tree stand back in there… I was lucky. It was either that or I was going to start howling myself… and blow our beautiful plan.”

  “I was wondering why you were moving so fast that you ran into that branch,” said Osborne. “That’s not like you, Ray. You’re pretty at home in the woods night or day.”

  “Yep, that’s what it was all about… I don’t think I’ve run that fast since Bobby Enderle chased me home… saying he was going to beat me up. That was in third grade… and I ran faster ’n that tonight.”

  “Lew was ready to go in after you,” said Osborne. “She had a hunch something had gone wrong.”

  “Speaking of hunches, Ray,” said Lew, “this idea of yours to use the wolf howl boxes was excellent. I’ll see that you get a bonus for tonight’s work. Mind if I share some of the details—like your episode with the wolf pups? I think our city council would enjoy it.”