by CJ Lyons
“How many rooms do you have?” Nick asked.
“We have eight cabins and a bunkhouse out back plus rooms above each wing. When they built this place back in the forties, they thought there’d be another east-west highway, but then they decided Route 12 up north was enough. Now the only time we’re ever full is times like this. Of course I comp the volunteers their rooms, so that’s not much help, but we’re still hanging on.”
“So you have searches fairly often?”
“A few times a season. Most don’t last more than a few hours, a day at most, and we handle things locally, but this time we mobilized everyone fast. Bill isn’t some tenderfoot tourist who doesn’t know better than to rely on their smartphone to get them out of trouble. Someone as experienced as he is goes missing, we take it seriously.”
The corridor opened up into another wide space, the ceiling not as high as in the lobby. The three walls were almost all windows, and sunlight streamed in to capture dust motes floating like snowflakes. In the center of the end wall was a large glass enclosure with trees and bushes and a large creature hanging from one of the trees, its fur a strange silver-green. The sloth. She’d never seen one in person. It didn’t move, to all appearances asleep. Beside it in a similar enclosure Lucy spotted a small spotted cat—one of the ocelots.
To their left were glass aquariums, all empty, the former home of the executed snakes, Lucy surmised. She sniffed and held back a sneeze; the place had a musty smell, thicker and more acrid than any barn back home. Then the noise of something big moving had her spinning to her right, her hand going to her hip where her weapon should have been. Her entire body went rigid as adrenaline flooded her, the sense of danger overwhelming. For a moment she was trapped in that night eight months ago, the dog’s weight pinning her down. In her panic she took a step back, scanning the area, certain the dog was there, ready to pounce, waiting for her.
Nick was ahead of her, peering over a waist-high railing. She joined him, not because she was interested in the view but because her need to protect him overrode her fear.
Below them were two large pits, outfitted with boulders and small trees and bushes. The outside wall was solid glass so that people could observe the animals down at their level, providing a more intimate view. Yet, even though she was farther away, a good fourteen feet above where the two predators paced, Lucy somehow felt more exposed. There was no glass, no bars between her and two creatures engineered for killing.
It was difficult to focus on either one of them as her pulse ratcheted. She slid her body between Nick and the railing—he didn’t seem to notice as he turned to keep talking to Judith, his back to the beasts. The tiger sprawled over a boulder, basking in a beam of sunlight as it licked its front claws. It stared straight at Lucy, assessing the distance, the strength it would take to leap it. Lucy shivered, unable to break away from the cat’s hypnotic gaze.
Then the grizzly made a snuffling noise—nowhere near a growl but enough to make the hairs on Lucy’s arms quiver in anticipation. She sniffed, the scent so like the dog who haunted her nightmares—the stench of her own fear or their predator excitement? The grizzly shuffled to the center of its enclosure where it could see these new humans most clearly, then with a grace surprising in such a massive creature, popped up from four legs to two, revealing its full height. Its nose scented the air and it sniffed loudly.
“Tabby and Smokey,” Judith made the introductions. “My husband’s legacy. At least what remains of it.”
“He gave you a zoo,” Nick whispered in awe, walking in a circle, taking in the space.
“He gave me a zoo.” Judith’s chuckle was laced with sorrow. “Max was a dreamer. Everyone loved him. And how that man could make me laugh. This,” she spread her arms wide, “was his idea of retirement from life in the big city. He wanted to make this old place a tourist destination; dreamed of inviting world-class chefs and performers. Of adding a full-service health spa to go along with the hot springs. That was Max. A dreamer.”
“Where did you live before?” Nick asked.
Lucy couldn’t tear her gaze away from the animals. She took deep breaths, cleansing the adrenaline from her body. Nothing to be afraid of, no need to panic. Slowly her body began to believe her subliminal mantra.
She’d encountered black bears while hiking back home, but although she’d always been wary and respectful, she’d never felt this sense of…awe. And sadness. Tabby and Smokey were obviously well cared for, but they just seemed so lonely. Even more than at a real zoo, they seemed out of place here, like trophies that simply hadn’t been stuffed and mounted yet.
“Chicago,” Judith answered. “But one day Max got mugged. And he was getting older—he was sixty-four back then. So he came up with a new dream. For us.” She shook her head. “That’s how Max made his fortune, you know. Dreaming. Businesses would call him in, he’d shadow the managers, eat in the company cafeteria, listen to the gossip, examine the sales figures and manufacturing plants, whatever, and he’d come back with ideas to increase productivity and profits, ideas for new products, new markets. One visit from Max and he could save your company. But he couldn’t save this place. Couldn’t see that a falling down motel at the end of a road going nowhere would never attract anything more than broke backpackers. They don’t want glamour and gourmet food, they want flush toilets and real meat instead of dehydrated crap. And after seeing real nature and wildlife up close and personal, the last thing they want is to see animals trapped behind bars. Coming here, it broke him. Even before the accident.”
“You said—a snake?” Nick’s tone was soft, a gentle breeze opening a door to someone’s psyche. Lucy knew he sensed Judith’s wound and was giving her a chance to release some of her pain.
Neither of them probably even remembered Lucy was standing right there or that they were in a hurry to join the search for Bill. Nick could do that—make you feel like time had stopped, that nothing else mattered except whatever you needed to say. It was a gift, but it also sometimes drove her a bit crazy. But she couldn’t leave him here, not alone with the animals, no matter how well they were contained. It made no sense, she knew, but that didn’t matter.
Judith nodded to the empty enclosures across the room. But she didn’t look at them, instead turning her body so her back was to them. “I was gone, out all night at the Holmsteads’ helping deliver a baby alpaca. Turns out, coming here I’m busier than ever as a veterinarian, but it’s all making house calls, and a lot of them pretty far away. That’s why I got my pilot’s license.”
She took a deep breath. “Anyway, we’re not sure how it happened. Miguel came in the next morning to find Max dead. The coroner over in Idaho County found a tiny puncture wound on his hand. He’d been cleaning the enclosures, and must have gotten careless. The coral snake, they finally decided—their bites are painless, so he probably never even realized. The snakes were supposed to have had their venom glands removed when Max bought them—although he was still careful, of course, and treated them with respect. Because you can never be a hundred percent sure…” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Of anything. Of having a dream come true. Of coming home to your husband.”
“But you’re still keeping his dream alive,” Nick told her. “Was it your dream as well?”
She shrugged. “At first I wanted to sell, but no one wanted to buy. As a veterinarian, I can’t in good conscience keep these animals in captivity, but, just like me, they’re trapped. They have nowhere else to go. So, I guess now I’m just waiting for them to die. Then I’ll see what’s next for me.”
Lucy finally broke in. “Must keep you busy, running this place and your veterinary practice and being county coroner.” She paused. “And now acting sheriff…”
Judith took the hint. “Right. Of course.” She was all business again—except for the way she gazed at Nick, a strange combination of gratitude and worship in her eyes. Lucy had seen that look before, all too often. Good thing Nick was impervious to it, even if Judith wasn’t a
t least fifteen years older than he was. “Right through here,” she opened the door leading outside, “and up that path. You’re in cabin three. I’ll be leaving in ten minutes if you want to join the search or need a ride to Bill’s home.”
“Thanks, Judith. We won’t be long.” Nick turned to her, glancing behind him at the zoo. “I think Max would be proud of the way you’re honoring his dream while also finding your own.”
Judith’s gaze softened, then she turned and strode away, her left hand with its wedding ring tapping the railing above the tiger and bear.
Chapter Ten
The guest cabins were arranged in a semi-circle between the mountain and the main building, leaving them in perpetual shadow. Cabin three was just that: a one-room log cabin with a tin roof and tiny porch barely wide enough to fit two rocking chairs. Nick unlocked the door and they went inside, depositing their luggage on one of the two double beds. There was a battered dresser, some photos of wildflowers and whitewater rapids on the walls, no TV, a single lamp on the nightstand between the beds, and a curtained alcove that led to a dressing area and a bathroom.
Mindful of the time, Lucy didn’t bother unpacking except to retrieve her weapons: one Beretta 9mm in a paddle holster concealed at the small of her back and the other strapped to her ankle, a Kershaw Ken Onion knife in her front pocket, and a multi-tool in her backpack. She also took the collapsible walking stick Nick had given her—it reminded her the ASP baton she’d used as an FBI agent, but was thicker and with a push of a button extended from eight inches to forty-two, perfect for hikes in the woods when she needed to protect her ankle from rough terrain.
“Judith, she’s—” Lucy shrugged, not sure of the right adjective, but Nick nodded his understanding as he checked his own pack to make sure he had everything he needed. She stroked the paracord bracelet Megan had given her—her touchstone—and pushed the unspoken issue. “That’s why you should stay with Deena. I’ll join in the search.”
Even though his back was turned, she sensed his smile. He knew exactly what she was really talking about. “I didn’t realize how steep and rocky it was out here.”
“A hill’s a hill; just keep going until you reach the top.” Although they both knew it wasn’t going up that was the dangerous part for Lucy—it was the coming down, especially given the scree fields, remnants of rockslides wide enough that they’d been visible from the air as they flew in. “I’ll be fine.”
He said nothing, simply filled their water bottles and handed Lucy hers. She slid it into its holster on the waistband of her pack and hoisted the pack to her shoulder. She was used to living out of her go-bag, but given the needs of a search and rescue were quite different than law enforcement or an investigation, it actually weighed less now than usual. No Kevlar, no extra ammo—technically she shouldn’t even be carrying into wilderness areas, but she felt naked without her guns—and she’d left space for maps and any rescue gear the search team might need her to carry.
They headed back out the door and down the hill to the main building. Lucy led them around the opposite way than they had come, avoiding the zoo. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the animals. The alternative route gave them a chance to see the hot springs side of the building. Lucy was surprised. Instead of the Old Faithful type of basin she’d imagined, it was a regular concrete pool enclosed by glass walls and a peaked ceiling. The water gave off a sulfur smell and there was a haze of steam above its slightly greenish surface, but other than that she’d never know it was anything but a normal swimming pool.
Judith was right: this place was not the fairytale dream her late husband had envisioned. An eagle’s shadow crossed Lucy’s path, and she glanced up…and up and up, her gaze searching for the top of the mountain peak towering over them. Her vision filled with more shades of green than she could name. The air smelled of pine sap and the subtle honey scent of wildflowers, while the sky stretched out even wider than the mountain crags, promising infinity.
No manmade attraction could ever compete with this beauty. No wonder Bill loved it here.
Nick reached the van before Lucy did. Judith was waiting, watching as Lucy used her walking stick to swing into the van without putting excessive weight on her ankle. She thought she managed it quite gracefully, no stumble or hint of weakness, but Judith still frowned as she slammed the door and made her way to the driver’s seat.
They followed a paved road east. A few miles out of town the pavement abruptly stopped, giving way to a well-packed dirt road with gravel ground into its surface. Another two miles and Lucy spotted a group of vehicles parked, blocking the narrow road. They ranged from pickup trucks to Subarus to large SUVs. People gathered on the far side of them, listening to a man in a dark green Forest Service uniform. He was black, mid-twenties, and exuded a sense of authority.
“That’s Gleason,” Judith told them as she parked behind an ancient Bronco. “Local ranger. Knows these woods better than anyone.”
“He’s in charge of the search?” Lucy asked, knowing she’d have to make her case to him. She extended her walking stick, noting that several of the other volunteers gathered also had sticks of their own, ranging from elaborately carved staffs and ski poles to random branches.
“Yep,” Judith answered, leading the way as they wove past the vehicles to where a gray-haired woman dressed in sheriff’s department khakis sat on a truck bed, a sheaf of papers weighted down by a rock on one side, a topo map spread open on her other, colored with highlighted areas and scribbled notations. Behind her were an open laptop and a walkie-talkie. “But Harriet here is the power behind the throne.” She raised a hand and caught Harriet’s attention. “Harriet, this is Lucy and Nick. They’re here to help—friends of Bill’s from out east.”
The last made Harriet squint in their direction, assessing them. Lucy stood straight, shifting her pack so it rested easily on her shoulders. Harriet nodded to Nick, but her lips thinned as she scrutinized Lucy. “You’re the FBI agent.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lucy answered, not sure of the right tack to take with Harriet.
Harriet made a grunting noise and thrust clipboards at Lucy and Nick. “Fill it out, bring it back, and we’ll see what we can make of you.”
Chapter Eleven
Just look at all these sheep milling around. Makes me sick. All puffed up with self-importance, thinking they’re going to be the one to play hero today. Idiots.
“All right, people,” Gleason, the forest ranger in charge of the search yells. “Gather up.” The crowd stops talking and surges toward him. Nothing he says will surprise me, so I pay attention to the people instead. “First of all, thanks to the volunteers from Liberty Lutheran for putting together the sack lunches. Let’s give them a round of applause.” Of course they all start clapping, as if trail mix and ham sandwiches were gourmet delicacies. “If you need extras, they’re on the table near their van.”
Movement at the edge of the crowd catches my eye. The FBI agent, Lucy. I cough to hide my smile. The way Bill talked about her, you’d have thought she walked on water. She’s nothing like what he described. Cheeks hollowed out by exhaustion, shoulders tight in a constant flinch, a gimpy ankle—of all these sheep gathered here, if I had to cull the herd, I would choose her as the weakest of the bunch. FBI agent or not.
“Radios,” Gleason was saying. “Check your batteries before you head back out. Harriet’s got spares. If you damaged your radio or it’s not working, she’ll sign you out a new one. Oh, and people, these radios are for official communications. Which means everyone and anyone can tune into your channel. So let’s keep the personal chat to a minimum.” A ripple of laughter spreads through the crowd. “And yes, that means no booty calls to your girl on another team.”
A pair of kids jostle another kid between them, his face bright red.
“As you know, we received some excellent news a short time ago. Acting Sheriff Keenan got a text from Bill. I can’t share the contents of the message—” The crowd’s cheers and applause in
terrupt him. He raises his hands and they quiet. “Knowing when the message was sent and an approximate location has shifted our search area slightly. So you’ll be receiving updated maps and assignments. Do not leave until you get your new assignments. Team leaders, if you have people out in the field, be sure to get theirs and update them as soon as possible.”
The sheep nod, all smiling.
“Now, we have approximately six hours of daylight left. Let’s use those wisely, and bring Bill home. Thank you very much. Dismissed.”
Another round of applause; I have no idea what for. But I clap and smile anyway, my attention on the FBI agent’s husband who is weaving through the crowd, approaching Gleason. Most of the others simply plop down on the ground, waiting for their leaders to bring their new assignments. They’ll be on their feet the next six hours, so they know enough to rest while they can. The FBI agent remains on the outer edge, skirting the clumps of chatterers pouring over maps, also making her way to Gleason, somehow timing it so she arrives at the same time as her husband.
“Nick Callahan and Lucy Guardino. We’re friends of Bill and Deena’s,” the husband tells Gleason, shaking his hand.
The FBI agent lets her husband do the talking—probably a smart idea, because from what I’ve seen so far, he’s better at it than she is. When she and Nick were signing in, filling out the volunteer paperwork, Harriet was trying to be polite, asking questions, and Lucy kept trying to brownnose her. You don’t brownnose Harriet—she might be in her seventies, but she pretty much runs this place; has for decades, and she sees right through that crap. Lived here all her life, even though her children and grandchildren all moved away and her husband passed on years ago. She knows everything worth knowing. Well, almost everything. She’s my eyes and ears—shares all the best gossip and comings and goings with me, never realizing that with a few stray words she might be condemning one of her neighbors.
