Where the Forest Meets the Stars

by Vanderah, Glendy

  “I said you’re an orphan and cancer survivor who has no one to lean on but us.”

  “She was persuasive,” Gabe said. “The nurse at the desk was nearly teary.”

  “I’m experienced with hospital ogres,” Tabby said, “because Jo comes to these places often. She must like the food.”

  “How did you find out I was here?”

  “Gabe.”

  “I knew you would want her here,” he said, “and she was listed in the university’s directory service.”

  “I’m always listed,” Tabby said. “You never know when some hot guy needs your number.” She winked at Gabe.

  “No one could find your brother’s number,” Gabe said.

  “Good,” Jo said. “Better if he doesn’t know.”

  “You have to call him,” Tabby said.

  “You know he just started his residency up in Washington. My health issues have caused enough disruption in his life.”

  “Jo . . . ,” Gabe said.

  “Okay, I’ll call him. Have they told you anything about Ursa?”

  “They won’t tell me anything,” Gabe said. “And the local news didn’t help either. It was reported as an attempted burglary. All they said was two men were shot dead and a child and woman were airlifted to a hospital for gunshot wounds.”

  “That does say something,” Jo said. “Ursa must have survived the surgery! If a little girl died in a robbery, that news would travel fast.”

  “You’re right,” Tabby said. “The media never misses an opportunity to exploit a kid tragedy. That news probably would make it up to Chicago.”

  “Gabe . . . ,” Jo said.

  “What?”

  “I just realized . . . you killed two people. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why the grim phizogs?” Tabby said. Patting Gabe’s back, she said, “This guy is a hero. He saved your life and Ursa’s.”

  “She’s wrong, isn’t she?” he said. “I nearly got both of you killed. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, Ursa wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

  “You can’t feel guilty about that. There’s no way you could have known,” Jo said.

  “I do. I feel like shit. Ursa came out of hiding to warn me. I didn’t even know where you were when she screamed and ran out of the woods. I tried to cover for her, but I was taking fire from the guy by the front door when the other one came out the back door. I couldn’t cover them both.”

  “It was an impossible situation,” Jo said.

  “Not for you,” he said. “When I went in the house with the police, we pieced together what you did. You waited until they broke in before you sent Ursa out the window. She for sure would have been safe, and you probably would have been, too. They hadn’t broken in the door to the room you were hiding in. We found your phone in there. It was still connected to 911 and they’d heard all the gunfire. That was when they dispatched the helicopters.”

  “When I think of you locked in that room with Ursa . . . ,” Tabby said. She hugged Jo and kissed her again. “Will your leg be okay? The bone must not be broken or you’d have a cast.”

  “It was mostly vascular. The nurses say I’ll be fine, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to the doctor. I’ve hardly been able to keep my eyes open.”

  “You lost a lot of blood,” Gabe said. “Last night when you passed out . . . I was afraid both you and Ursa were going to die.”

  “I wish we could visit her,” Jo said. “Imagine how upset she is.”

  “Check this out,” Tabby said. She pulled her phone from her purse, moved her finger over it, and held the screen up for Jo to see. It was a school photo of Ursa smiling, and over the picture were the words MISSING, URSA ANN DUPREE .

  “I checked that website almost every day!” Jo said.

  “She must have been reported recently,” Gabe said.

  “I shouldn’t have stopped looking,” Jo said.

  “I stopped, too,” he said.

  Jo took the phone out of Tabby’s hand and read the information below Ursa’s photo. She went missing on June 6 from Effingham, Illinois. She was eight years old. Her ninth birthday would be on August 30.

  “I can’t believe she’s only eight!” Jo said.

  “I know,” Tabby said, taking the phone back. “That’s only third grade.”

  “It doesn’t seem possible,” Gabe said.

  “The first night I talked to her, she used the word salutation ,” Jo said.

  “Maybe she really is a smart alien in a kid’s body,” Tabby said.

  A nurse came in to record Jo’s vitals. “When can I get out of bed?” Jo asked him.

  “Tomorrow morning you’ll have physical therapy,” he said.

  After the nurse left, Gabe sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand. “They said we can only stay for a few minutes, and I need to tell you something.”

  “This can’t be good.”

  “It’s not. We’re in trouble. But it’s worse for you because Ursa slept at your rental house and went to work with you.”

  “Did the cops tell you that?”

  “They’ve implied it, even though I told them I was as responsible as you were for letting Ursa stay.” He squeezed her hand. “I hate to say this when you’ve barely recovered, but I have to. Call your lawyer if you have one. I think you’re going to be charged with a child endangerment felony.”

  Child endangerment. Not possible. Not when all she’d done was give food, shelter, and love to an abandoned little girl.

  But then she saw Ursa running under the stars. A gun fired again and again, and Ursa stumbled and slumped to the ground. All because Jo hadn’t turned her over to the sheriff.

  She dropped her arm over her eyes and cried.

  31

  The next morning someone knocked on her door. “Come in,” she said, pulling her hospital gown over her bandaged leg. She was expecting Gabe and Tabby. They’d spent the night at a nearby hotel. Instead, her research advisor walked in. “So . . . when were you going to tell me you were shot and nearly died?” Shaw asked.

  “Never, if possible. I figured you were tired of my endless doom and gloom.”

  “I’m not, and if I’d known, I’d have been here in a heartbeat.” He folded his long body into the chair in front of hers. “Is your brother here?”

  “I talked to him last night. He wanted to come, but I told him I was perfectly fine and I’d be pissed if he came.”

  “Perfectly fine?” Shaw said, looking at her propped leg.

  “I am. How did you find out?”

  “From George Kinney. The police had to contact him because it happened on his property.”

  “That must have been surprising news—a shoot-out and two guys dead on his property.”

  “The timing was bad. His wife died earlier the same night.”

  “Lynne died?”

  Shaw’s white brows arched in confusion. “You knew Lynne?”

  “No . . . not really.”

  He studied her for a few seconds. “George told me you brought someone he knows to campus that same day—Gabriel Nash?”

  Jo nodded. “He helped me move my stuff into the new house.”

  “George said he lives on the property next to his. His family and George’s go way back.” He waited for Jo to explain how she knew Gabe, but she stayed silent. “George told me Gabe may have saved your life.”

  “I had a gun pointing straight at me, and he took out the guy before he fired.”

  “My god!” Shaw said, thrusting his fingers into his silky white hair. “I have to meet this guy and thank him.”

  “You may get your wish. He’s supposed to be here any minute.”

  “Should I leave?”

  “No, visitors are all that make a hospital bearable.”

  “I thought good drugs did that?”

  “I’ve had it with the drugs. I’m already weaning off.”

  “Why am I not surprised to hear that?” He relaxed against the back of his chair. “I hear t
he little girl is doing well.”

  “Is she?”

  “They didn’t tell you?”

  “No. They won’t tell me anything.”

  “She’s in intensive care, but she’s out of danger. They expect her to make it.”

  If her advisor weren’t sitting in front of her, she’d have blubbered in relief. “Did the police tell Dr. Kinney why those men were after her?”

  Shaw sat erect. “She didn’t get hit by accident?”

  “I’m pretty sure they came there to kill her.”

  “Have you told the police?”

  “I’ve told them everything.”

  “They told George it was probably a robbery.”

  “I think they’re saying that because it’s a criminal investigation and they can’t leak anything. It’s all linked to something that happened in Effingham. A detective from there asked me a lot of questions.”

  Shaw’s blue gaze was penetrating. “George said the police asked him if he’d been aware that the little girl was living on his property.”

  Jo couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Was she?”

  “Yes.”

  He rumpled his hair again.

  “I think I’m in pretty big trouble.”

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  “I felt sorry for her. One night she showed up hungry and wearing dirty pajamas. She didn’t even have shoes.”

  “I remember—you’d given her your sandals.”

  “I called the sheriff the next day, but she ran into the woods when he got there.”

  “But that was . . . what, more than a month ago?”

  “I know.”

  He waited for more explanation.

  “I hated for her to go to foster parents. You hear all those bad stories . . .”

  “Were you sure her parents weren’t looking for her?”

  “If they were, they never told the police. I checked the internet every day for the first few weeks. And by then . . . I know this will sound crazy, but I really cared about her. I was even thinking of trying to be her foster parent.”

  “My god, Jo, your heart is just too big for this mean world.”

  “If I’m charged with something, will it cause trouble at the university?”

  “It might.”

  “Could I get kicked out of grad school?”

  “You never know with our current butt-brain of a department head.” He saw how devastated she was. “You know I’ll fight for you. And I know what you’ve been through—how it could have . . . influenced what you did.”

  Why did everyone think that? She kept her mouth shut, but she wanted to say that she wouldn’t have done anything different if she still had her mother and her breasts and her ovaries. She would love Ursa just as much.

  Shaw saw he’d perturbed her and changed the subject. “Do you need help wrapping up your research?”

  “To tell the truth, I can’t stop worrying about my nest logs and computer and everything sitting in that house.”

  “I’d be the same way. If my head was blown off my body, my brain would still be worrying about my data.”

  “No doubt about that.”

  “I’ll go straight to Kinney’s when I leave Saint Louis. I have a key to get in.”

  “I don’t think there’s much door left to unlock.”

  “Jesus, I need to get over there.”

  “Isn’t it a crime scene? Do you think you can go in?”

  “I might have to get the sheriff’s help. Will your nest logs be obvious?”

  “They’re on the desk in a folder marked Nest Logs .”

  “I guess that’s obvious.”

  “My laptop and binoculars are on the desk, too. Would you bring them back to campus and put them somewhere safe?”

  “I will. And I wanted to ask—do you mind if we finish monitoring your active nests?”

  “Mind? I’d be thrilled! But you don’t have the time for that.”

  “I don’t.” He rubbed the arthritic left elbow he’d once broken, usually a sign that he was about to say something he didn’t want to say. “Tanner and Carly said they’d come down and monitor your nests while you’re in the hospital.”

  “They can’t stay at the house. Like I said, the doors are broken, and I’m sure it’s considered a crime scene.”

  “They were going to camp at some nearby place.”

  Probably where Jo and Tanner had made love in the stream, Tanner’s favorite campground since a group of graduate students had brought him there. “Are you sure they can take the time off?”

  “Are you kidding? When students finish their research, they’ll do anything possible to avoid writing their thesis. They said they’d planned to go camping anyway.”

  “If they want to take a working vacation, I’m happy for the help.”

  “And Carly knows your study sites—she worked in many of those same areas.”

  “The nest cameras can be removed if they don’t want to deal with them. And I have everything clearly marked on maps in the folders.”

  “Of course you do,” he said. “We’ll make copies of—”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Jo said.

  Gabe walked in. “I’m sorry,” he said when he saw Shaw. “I’ll come back later.”

  “No, stay. Gabe, this is my advisor, Dr. Shaw Daniels. Shaw, this is Gabriel Nash.”

  Shaw sprang from his chair and shook Gabe’s hand. “Good to meet you!” he said. “Thank you for helping Jo! You saved her life! And the little girl!”

  Gabe didn’t deny it, but his eyes betrayed his feelings of guilt. Jo studied Shaw, looking for signs that he saw George Kinney in Gabe’s face. If he noticed the resemblance, his reaction wasn’t obvious.

  “I was expecting you a long time ago,” Jo said. “Where’s Tabby?”

  Gabe glanced at Shaw. “She’s . . . in the gift shop.”

  “What? She better not buy me any of that overpriced crap!”

  Shaw wiped his brow in a mock gesture of relief. “Thank god I didn’t buy that Get Well balloon!”

  “I was about to say: unless it’s a balloon.”

  “Damn it!” He leaned down and hugged her lightly. “I’d better go. I want to get over to Kinney’s and make sure your data are safe.”

  “I put her nest logs in the desk’s file drawer to make them less obvious,” Gabe said. “And the police let me lock her laptop and binoculars in the lower drawer that has a key lock. I hid the key inside a paper-clip box in the top drawer.”

  “I like this guy,” Shaw said to Jo. “He thinks data safety like a scientist.”

  “Rubbed off, I guess,” Jo said, smiling at Gabe.

  “I hope to see you again,” Shaw said, clasping Gabe’s hand once more. “Let’s have a beer sometime, and I’m buying.”

  “Sounds great,” Gabe said. He was more relaxed with a stranger than Jo had ever seen him. Spending time with Tabby had that effect on people.

  “He seems like a great guy,” Gabe said after Shaw left.

  “He is. He’s why I stayed at U of I rather than apply for another PhD program. I only wanted to work with him.” She reached her arms up toward him. “Get down here and give me a kiss.”

  “You’re only saying that because I’m clean shaven and irresistible again.”

  “You know it.” They kissed over her propped-up leg.

  “I’m glad to see you’re out of bed.”

  “So am I. What’s going on with Tabby? Why did you look nervous when you said she’s in the gift shop?”

  “You don’t miss anything, do you? Just like Ursa. I never could make a move around you two.”

  “What move were you going to make?”

  “I don’t know, because I never tried.” He sat in the chair. “So . . . about Tabby . . .”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh god, what is she up to now?”

  “I had a feeling she does things like this
often.”

  “What is she doing?”

  “She stole a maid’s shirt from a staff room at our hotel—”

  “What!”

  “She wanted it to look official . . .”

  “She wanted what to look official?”

  “She’s buying a gift for Ursa in the shop, and she’s going to pretend she’s a delivery person from a florist shop. She’s going to try to see Ursa.”

  “Ursa is in the ICU. The door will be locked.”

  “I tried to stop her,” he said.

  “There’s no stopping Tabby when she gets one of her ideas. Did she tell you she once snuck a lamb into the hospital?”

  “Wait—did you just say a lamb ?”

  “Yep. Her vet specialty is large animals. One of the lambs from the research herd lost its mother, and she was helping bottle-feed it. She knows I love the baby farm animals she works with, so she packs the lamb in her car with its milk, drives up to Chicago, and sneaks it into my room two days after my breasts were removed. She takes this tiny lamb out of a shoulder bag, lays it on my bed, and hands me the bottle. There, she says, who needs tits anyway? There are other ways to give milk. ”

  Gabe looked away and blinked.

  “I know. I cried like a baby. At first she thought it was because I was upset. But I loved it. It was one of the best crazy things she’s ever done.”

  “She made me go out with her when we left the hospital last night,” he said. “She wanted to explore, and we ended up—”

  “In some weird place.”

  “Yes!”

  “Let me guess—a hippie massage parlor? A Japanese karaoke bar?”

  “She’s taken you to those places?”

  “In Chicago. She made me do lots of weird things when my mother was dying. She said I had to remember there was a big amazing world beyond the borders of my sad little country—she used those exact words. I’ve always thought Tabby should be a novelist.”

  “I know. Veterinarian doesn’t seem right for her.”

  “It makes more sense if you know she grew up in a city apartment. She’s hardly touched her foot to a blade of grass, and she’s going to work with cows, horses, and sheep. Her dad owns an automotive shop, and he thinks it’s the funniest thing.”

  “He’s angry about it?”

  “No, I meant funny funny. He’s a great guy, quirky, like she is. He raised Tabby and her sister alone when their mother split.”