Eric knew.
“Put the gun down, Jackie,” he said. “Everyone knows I came here to see you. It’s over. If you shoot me, they’ll know you did it.”
“But I can tell them my version of what happened, which means I can still save my baby.” Jackie’s finger teased the trigger. “It’s the only choice you’ve given me.”
Eric’s eyes searched the room for a way out. Jackie had locked the French doors leading to the dining room, which left only the entrance to the hall open. Unfortunately, she stood between him and there. And while ducking behind the couch might buy him a little time, she had only to squeeze the trigger a second time.
Wait! Jackie had pulled the gun from the Queen Anne’s desk, but who had put it there? Wayne? He had kept loaded guns around the house for protection. He also always left the first round blank.
Eric prayed the Alzheimer’s hadn’t affected Wayne’s routines. It was his only hope.
“I’m sorry, Eric.” Jackie’s eyes shone. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I didn’t know the sacrifices we’d all have to make when I asked you to help us.”
Then she didn’t know it was Tamara when she first asked him to help her find Wayne’s killer.
“When did you figure it out?” he asked.
“I found the psychrometer in her jeans pocket while I was doing laundry.”
The front door opened, and Tamara came in. “Hi, Mama, I’m home.”
In a panic, Jackie turned away from Eric. “I’m in the living room, honey, but don’t come in here, please. I have a surprise for you. I don’t want you to spoil it.”
Now was his chance. Eric leaped for the gun.
Jackie whirled back around and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell with a click.
Eric made another leap. Jackie squeezed the trigger again, drawing back the hammer. He batted her arm to the side. The gun fired.
Tamara screamed, her shrill voice piercing the air. Jackie stared in horror. Tamara hadn’t done what her mother had told her. Instead, she’d made a beeline for the living room.
Tamara dropped to the floor, and the gun dropped from Jackie’s hand. The woman sank to her knees beside her daughter.
“Tamara. Oh my God, my baby.” Jackie stroked her daughter’s hair away from her face. “I’m sorry. Oh my God, what have I done?”
Eric pulled into the Beaver Meadows turnaround bright and early. Lark was waiting for him. She sat on the tailgate of her pickup, watching the sun tint the mountains pink in the dawn of the day.
“Coffee?” She held out a thermal mug.
“Thanks.” He sipped the dark roast, then scooted up beside her, letting his feet dangle.
“How’s Tamara?” she asked, kicking her feet and letting them swing.
“She took a bullet to the shoulder. She’ll live.”
“Ah,” Lark said. “A soap and water wound.”
“No, it was worse than that. She needed surgery. And stitches. And she also found herself a good lawyer. From what I hear, in addition to defending her in the criminal trial, she had the attorney file a lawsuit against Jackie for reckless endangerment.”
Lark smiled and sipped her coffee. With her head bent, the early morning sun warmed her hair to a shade of golden honey. “What’s going to happen to them?”
Eric forced his gaze to the meadow. “They’re going to jail.”
“And Paxton?” Lark pulled her blue flannel shirt closer around her.
“Cold?” he asked, draping his arm about her shoulders. She snuggled in closer.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Paxton gets off.”
“Completely?”
Eric nodded. “The way Vic explained it, Paxton didn’t commit any crime. He piled wood with intent, but he never lit the fire, and there’s nothing in the Colorado statutes that says piling wood is a crime.”
“What about the tape Vic found?”
“Jackie Devlin planted it there. Paxton went to see Verbiscar, but he never actually connected.”
Lark took another sip of coffee. “So, how is she?”
“Verbiscar?” Eric rubbed his hand up and down Lark’s arm. “She’s healing. I hear they’re going to let her out of the hospital soon. And, apparently, the network is going to give her a shot at the early morning broadcast. Trust me, she’ll dine out on this story for years.”
A car pulled up to the turnaround, and Eric lifted his arm from Lark’s shoulder. The rest of the participating EPOCH members had arrived. Dorothy MacBean and Cecilia Meyer came first, followed by Andrew and Opal Henderson. And, as they unloaded their birding equipment, Harry Eckles showed up with Gertie Tanager.
“Give us the lowdown, Eric,” said Andrew. “What exactly do you want us to do?”
“I want us to fan out across the meadow. The purpose of the study is to determine the impact of fire on avian populations. We know that some birds fare better than others after a fire. We expect to see declines in some bird species and increases in others. And we expect there will be some species that disappear completely and never return.”
“Like the green-tailed towhee?”
“That’s my fear.” Eric looped his binoculars around his neck and picked up his field notebook. “In addition to the birds you spot, would you please jot down the types of live vegetation you see, and make notes of any other wildlife or invertebrates spotted in the area—beetles, squirrels, rabbits?” He scanned the faces. “Questions?”
Gertie’s hand shot up. “How long do you want us to stay out there?” She gestured toward the meadow.
“Half a day. Longer if you’re up for it.” He glanced around. “Anyone else?”
No one said anything.
“Let’s get going, then.” Eric stepped off the berm, and the meadow spread before them—a charred blanket of ash and burned bushes. The late-spring snow had encouraged some of the unburned grass to green up, and spots of the meadow already showed signs of recovery. Too bad the forested area rebound as quickly, he thought.
He’d gone thirty feet, then spotted the bush where he’d seen the green-tailed towhee building its nest prior to the burn. The charred branches of antelope bitterbrush stuck up in brittle spikes, ready to be felled by the first puff of wind.
Drawing closer, Eric could see that the back side of the plant was still green. He jotted down the observation, and a flash of movement caught his eye. He studied the bush and spotted another flash of orange.
“Lark,” he called in a stage whisper. “Everybody. Check this out.”
The group gathered.
“Remember I told you I was worried about the green-tailed towhee?”
They nodded.
He pointed to the bush. “They stayed.” He smiled at the others. “Check it out. They’re building a nest in the ashes.”
GREEN-TAILED TOWHEE
Pipilo chlorurus
Family: Emberizidae
APPEARANCE: The smallest of the towhees, this bird is quite drab. In good light, it will take on a greenish sheen. Watch for its white chin and distinctive rusty-red cap. The green-tailed towhee has a long tail, and if an intruder approaches, it will scamper along the ground like a small mammal, hoping to distract the predator.
RANGE: The green-tailed towhee is a migratory bird that summers in the western United States from eastern California to central Colorado and Montana to New Mexico. It winters throughout Mexico.
HABITAT: Watch for the green-tailed towhee in the foothills and low brush of the higher elevation scrublands. It is also found in mountain thickets, chaparral, and riparian scrub.
VOICE: Its song is a series of chip notes, chu-weet-chur, chee-chur, followed by two or more trills. Its call is a nasal meewe. When it is in flight, listen for a long thin buzz, zeereesh.
BEHAVIORS: The green-tailed towhee is a monogamous bird that lives either alone or in pairs. It may form loose flocks with other species in winter. A classic double-scratcher, the green-tailed towhee forages on the ground beneath dense thickets by pul
ling both legs sharply backward at the same time. The green-tailed towhee eats seeds, fruit, and insects and their larvae. Secretive and easily overlooked, it may be detected by the loud rustling it makes scratching for food in the leaf litter. It has a rapid, bouncy flight and alternates between flapping its wings for several quick beats and pulling its wings tight to its sides.
CONSERVATION: An uncommon cowbird host, the green-tailed towhee is vulnerable to the loss of habitat due to land clearing, grazing, and development. Studies are now being done to determine the effects of prescribed fire on the species.
About the author
Chris Goff is the award-winning author of five environmental novels. The bestselling Birdwatcher’s Mystery series was nominated for two WILLA Literary Awards, a Colorado Author’s League Award, and published in the UK and Japan. The sixth installment in the series, A PARLIAMENT OF OWLS, will be launching in September 2015.
Acknowledgments
Several people helped me by providing technical information to bring this story to life. My deepest thanks to Bill Maron and Pete Anderson, old friends and firefighters extraordinaire, who were kind enough to supply me with insider info; Jeff Connor and Jesse Duncrack of the National Park Service Fire Management Offices; Tasha Kotliar, USGS, who is studying the effects of fire on avian populations; and Ronda Woodward, an amazing birder who helped me spot my first green-tailed towhee.
Additional thanks goes to my fellow writers and friends who supported me through the process. To my RMFW buddies, you know who you are; to members of my critique group who made me go back and work the material again, and again, and again, ad nauseam—Bob Strange, Diane West, Janene McCrillis, Suzanne Proulx, Steven Moores, Georgeanne and Steven Nelson, Janice Ford, Louise Woodward, James Faber, and Gwen Schuster-Haynes; and to the WRW Retreaters, especially Janet Chapman, Jan Chalfant, Rhonda Foster, John Getze, Roman White, Jason Sitzes, Loren Oberweger, and Gail Stockwell, who offered encouragement during the soggy middle.
To my family and friends, without whose support I’d be nothing: Mardee, Danielle, and Addie, who ate too much take-out; Mike, Krista, Hunter, Kayla, Gin, Kenny, Cherie, and Travis, who offered support from a distance; Tom, Monk, and Laura Ware; Aunt D, Cynthia, and Aja; and my beloved and beleaguered husband, Wes Goff.
And to Peter Rubie, my favorite agent; Georgie Nelson and Mike Milligan, for the dynamite website; and Ann Elphick, my publicist, for helping me feed the birds.
Last, I want to thank my new publisher, Astor + Blue Editions, for their commitment to keeping the stories of the EPOCH (Elk Park Ornithological Chapter) members circulating. I can think of no better partners than A+B and my new editor, Jillian Ports, to help me navigate the new waters of today’s publishing world.
Read all of the Birdwatcher’s Mystery series by Christine Goff, published by Astor+Blue Editions:
*A Rant of Ravens
*Death of a Songbird
*A Nest in the Ashes
*Death Takes a Gander
*A Sacrifice of Buntings
www.astorandblue.com
Nest in the Ashes Page 20
