Will had returned after a couple hours, noticeably subdued. He had offered a mumbled apology to them as a group, but had said little else for the remainder of the time they had been together. Gabriel couldn't blame him. Will had nearly vocalized his own thoughts verbatim. It was hard enough to lose someone cherished, even harder when the reason why seemed absurd. Their loved ones had vanished while searching for something that had meant the world to them, yet made little sense to those left behind to mourn them.
Right now, Gabriel just wanted to crawl into bed and close his eyes. The plan was to strike out into the mountains in the morning under daybreak, with plenty of time to make the trek and return home before nightfall. None of them wanted to find out what it was like to spend the night in the wilderness, even knowing that the storm showed no sign of relenting and that the longer they waited to leave, the more difficult the hike would become. That was a problem for tomorrow, though, and right now he just wanted to make all of the problems go away, if only for a few hours.
He trudged through the shin-deep powder in the courtyard to the back door of his cabin, opened the door, and stepped into the kitchen. The precipitation had loosened the bandage on his cheek, so he peeled it off and dropped it into the trash bag, careful not to notice the amount of blood that had soaked into the gauze. He was just about to stomp the snow from his boots when he heard heated voices rise from the other side of the wall in the main room. After a moment's hesitation, he crept across the room and pressed his back against the wall so he could better eavesdrop.
"I don't care if you think it's a bad idea," Jess said. "It's the right thing to do. The only thing to do."
"And just what do you think that will accomplish?" Cavenaugh asked. He lowered his voice, but his anger was no less apparent. "Look outside. There's no way they could even make it up the mountain in this weather."
"Of course they could. They have SUVs with four-wheel drive and helicopters, for God's sake."
"You think they're going to come thundering up here with a chopper because we found some old finger bones?"
"No, but that's not the point. What we found is the evidence of a crime. That's why we need to call them. There's nothing more to debate. What if those bones belonged to Jenny? Hmm? What if that cat had been hiding under this very floor gnawing on your little sister's remains?"
There was a heavy moment of silence before Jess spoke again.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
Another pause.
"Fine," Cavenaugh whispered. "Make your call. Tell them whatever the hell you want."
Gabriel heard footsteps on the wooden floor headed in his direction and barely had time to step away from the wall before Cavenaugh blew past. The detective didn't even look back as he threw open the door, stepped out into the snow, and slammed it behind him.
From the other room, Gabriel heard the beeping sound of a cell phone. He stomped the melting ice from his feet and walked into the main room.
Jess had extended the antenna on her cell and was pacing back and forth across the room, turning in various directions as she walked, all the while watching the small screen.
"Damn it," she whispered.
"Are you okay?" Gabriel asked.
She started at the sound of his voice.
"I can't get a signal."
"Must be the storm. Cell signals are weak up here to begin with."
She grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch and slipped into it.
"Where are you going?" Gabriel asked.
"Outside." She breezed past him into the kitchen. "There has to be someplace around here where I can get a signal."
The kitchen door opened and closed again, and with that, Gabriel found himself alone in the cabin with only the company of the crackling fire. He went into the bedroom, pulled one of the blankets off the bed, and returned to the living room. Moments later, he was bundled on the couch in front of the potbellied stove, fast asleep.
***
He awakened to the smell of chicken broth and sat up to find Jess standing over him. She smiled and eased down beside him while he rubbed the residue of sleep from his eyes.
"I brought you dinner."
She proffered the Styrofoam bowl.
"Thanks. I didn't mean to be asleep so long." He glanced back over his shoulder at the window. The world had turned gray, save the flakes tapping at the glass and the crescents of condensation framing the pane. "What time is it anyway?"
"Does it matter?"
He smiled and nodded. "I don't suppose it does."
The soup was only lukewarm, but it tasted absolutely divine. He shoveled down a couple spoonfuls brimming with noodles, then looked at her. She was staring blankly into the room and working her fingers into knots in her lap.
"Did you ever get your phone to work?" he asked.
"No." She turned to face him. "And we lost our internet connection as well."
"Stands to reason."
"Does it?"
She rose and paced nervously in front of him.
"Yeah. No cell signal, no WI-FI connection."
"I know, I know. But something's not right here. Can't you feel it?"
"We're all just stressed out. Tomorrow's going to be a rough day. If everything goes according to plan, we're going to find our sisters' bodies. I need to know... We all need to know. I just can't imagine how much it's going to hurt when we finally see what actually happened to them. On one hand, it will be a relief to finally learn how they died. On the other, seeing it, seeing how they might have suffered... There's no way to un-see that."
"You're right," she said. "I'm probably overreacting. I can't tell you exactly what's wrong, only that something is."
He finished his soup and set the bowl on the floor. When he sat back, Jess leaned against his shoulder and her hand found his. The fire bathed them in heat and the moment felt natural, comfortable.
"There's an emergency transceiver in the main cabin," she said.
"What do you propose?"
Jess was silent for a moment. "I don't know for sure. I can only assume it connects directly to some emergency broadband channel. Maybe we could just alert them to the fact that we found these bones and let them determine the proper course of action from there."
"That sounds reasonable enough."
Another silence.
"What's the problem then?" he finally asked.
"I don't think Cavenaugh would appreciate it. He's made that abundantly clear."
"Cavenaugh? He already told you to make the call."
"I get a bad feeling from him."
Gabriel scoffed. "What could he possibly do?"
***
"So is everyone clear about the plan for the morning?" Cavenaugh asked. He surveyed their faces one by one. "Good. I don't want to waste a single minute of daylight. I want us out of here by oh five hundred sharp."
They all rose from the couch and floor where they'd been sitting through the final strategy meeting. The pertinent maps had already been pulled from the walls and rolled into neat tubes, rubber-banded, and marked with a number, one through three, to correspond with the team number. They were laid out on the wooden table they had dragged in from the kitchen. Beside each map was a radio unit, which had already been tuned to a common frequency, and a backpack containing granola, dehydrated fruit, two bottles of water, and a flare gun with two extra loads.
"One more thing," Cavenaugh said as they were all about to disperse. He walked to the right side of the room where the communications gear had been assembled on top of the cases in which it had arrived. Beside the stack of components was a metal case Gabriel had assumed to be empty. Cavenaugh unlatched the lid and swung it open. He leaned over the foam-lined box and reached inside. "Who knows how to shoot one of these?"
When he turned around, he held a rifle across his chest. The polished barrel reflected the firelight.
Will walked over and took it from him, a curiously animated expression on his face. He whistled in admirati
on and turned it over in his grasp. Aligning the sights, he aimed it across the room, then resumed his appreciative inspection.
"Bushmaster RealTree Camo Rifle. Twenty-inch barrel with flash suppressor. Nickel Acetate finish. 5.56mm/.223 caliber, semi-automatic, thirty-round magazine. Six hundred meter range. This is definitely not your grandfather's hunting rifle," he said. "Fine piece of equipment though. You could drop a bounding deer from halfway across the state with one of these bad boys. How'd you get a hold of these?"
Cavenaugh shrugged. "Borrowed them from a friend."
Kelsey took the rifle from Will and appraised it, but didn't appear nearly as comfortable doing so. It looked more like an assault rifle than anything used for hunting.
Gabriel crossed the room and peered down into the case. There were several stacked tiers inside, each of which, he could only assume, housed a rifle in its custom fitting.
"Why do we need these?" Maura asked. Of them all, she seemed the most wary.
"We already know there are mountain lions in this area," Cavenaugh said.
"They're as afraid of us as we are of them," Maura said.
Gabriel turned and watched Jess as she perused the stacks of equipment. She moved around the clutter as though searching for something. When she caught him looking, she shook her head and mouthed the words "It's not here."
"Then consider it an unnecessary precaution," Cavenaugh said. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."
Maura nodded her acquiescence, but didn't appear relieved in the slightest. She just continued to stare at the rifle as though Kelsey were handling a venomous snake.
Understanding finally struck Gabriel. This wasn't about mountain lions. Not at all. But until that very moment, all he had thought they might find in the forest were the remains of their loved ones. He had never considered the prospect that they might encounter whoever was responsible for their deaths.
***
Gabriel leaned against the kitchen cabinets beside the back door, dozing in and out. He was fully clothed beneath the blanket, and anything but comfortable. The warmth from the fire was fading fast and the bitter chill was seeping in through the walls and under the floorboards. Best not to stoke the flames to combat it just yet. If nothing else, the cold was keeping him from falling into a sound sleep, and right now he needed to remain sharp if he expected to hear anything other than the howl of the wind and the resultant creaking of the cabin around him.
He knew he should be getting as much rest as he possibly could in anticipation of the arduous day ahead, but this was something he needed to do. Whether or not Oscar returned, he at least had to try. That cat was now the only living link between his sister and him. Expecting a now-feral feline to lead them to the bodies was ridiculous, but Stephanie would have been heartbroken at the idea of her furry friend being abandoned in the wild. Maybe he would never learn what had happened to her, and would have to live with the guilt and the loss for the rest of his life. That would be his cross to bear, but at least if he found a way to take care of Oscar, he could justify to himself that he had done something. And perhaps through her cat, he could feel close to her again.
The rational part of him knew he was being absurd, but there were already enough regrets without adding one more. To leave her beloved cat at the mercy of the elements and predators would be to dishonor her memory and everything she had stood for. Stephanie had always been the most caring, most gentle---
There was a soft thump against the wall behind him.
Gabriel silently peeled off the blanket and rolled over onto his hands and knees.
The wind whistled along the eaves and rattled the glass in the window above the sink. He must have heard it blow the bag of trash against the siding. Hopefully it was still tethered to the nail, or all of this was for naught.
He rose to his feet, careful to place his tread lightly enough so as not to make the floorboards squeak, and took the hot dog he had set aside in a plastic baggie from the counter. Two stealthy steps and he was at the door, knob in hand. He turned it slowly, soundlessly, and drew the door inward.
Snowflakes swatted him in the face and something raced toward his feet. It was only one of the Styrofoam bowls, but that meant---
He whirled to his left. The yellow plastic ties were still bound to the nail, but the bottom of the trash bag had been ripped open. Its contents were scattered all over the ground. Bowls and trash had blown up against the building, while more garbage tumbled across the accumulation. This would never work now. He had thought for sure the bag would be strong enough to withstand the wind. Grabbing the useless tatter of white plastic, he inspected the bottom, then looked quickly back to the snow.
The wind hadn't beaten the bag open against the cabin. Something with sharp claws had torn it open right along the seam.
There. To his right, at the very edge of the building, was a fuzzy orange face, eating out of a bowl pinned by a small paw. Oscar glanced up and Gabriel caught a flash of gold from his eyes.
Gabriel held perfectly still and the cat again resumed its meal of crusted oats.
Quietly, he eased out the door into the snow and removed the hot dog from the Ziploc. He split it in half and approached Oscar until the cat bristled and turned his attention from the bowl to the back door.
Gabriel froze. He expected Oscar to dash off for the safety of the forest at any second, but after a while, the cat stuffed his face back into his meal.
As slowly as he possibly could, Gabriel knelt in the accumulation, extended his arm, and held out the offering of processed meat.
Oscar appeared not to notice at first, but after a few eternal minutes, he raised his head and turned toward the smell. His face was scarred over his left eye and across his nose, and his right ear had been all but torn away. There were tangles and briars in his thick fur, and Lord only knew what crawled on his skin beneath. Cautiously, Oscar eased around the corner of the cabin and started in Gabriel's direction.
The cold from the snow bit into his legs, but Gabriel knew if he so much as flinched, the cat would be gone.
Oscar approached a single step at a time, pausing and watching him between each, until in a streak of orange, the cat darted at him and nipped the hot dog out of his grasp. All Gabriel had felt was fur on his fingertips. Again, Oscar crouched at the far end of the wall, where he gnawed on his meal from the side with his back teeth.
Gabriel watched with a growing sense of disappointment. There was no way he was going to be able to grab the cat. Oscar had moved so fast he hadn't even had time to think, let alone reach down and snatch the cat by the scruff of its neck.
He retracted his arm slowly, took the other half of the hot dog from his left hand, and held it out for the cat again.
Oscar had finished the first portion and now crouched on his belly, haunches flexed, prepared to pounce. He watched Gabriel closely for several more minutes before venturing out from behind the side of the building. Once he was again close enough, Oscar sprung at Gabriel's hand and relieved him of the food. In a blur of orange, Oscar fled in the direction of the woods and vanished.
Gabriel stared into the darkness beneath the snow-covered pines for a long time before he finally stood and headed back into the cabin.
November 15th, 2010
Monday
Gabriel had barely fallen asleep when Cavenaugh's alarm woke him. The crushing feeling of dread followed within seconds. Today would potentially be one of the worst days of his life, and as much as he hated to begin it, the sooner he did, the sooner it would be over.
The bed shook as Cavenaugh climbed out, and Gabriel could hear rustling from the adjacent room as Jess slipped out from under the covers. After a long moment of hesitation, Gabriel finally followed suit. He dressed in a fog, adding layer after layer of clothing until he felt as though he were smothering.
Cavenaugh passed him and exited the room as he donned his coat and snowcap.
With a sigh, Gabriel joined the others in the main
room and waited while Jess bundled into her massive coat, pulled the hood over her head, and cinched the ties tight to hold it in place.
Cavenaugh left through the back door without a word.
"Are you ready to do this?" Gabriel asked.
Jess looked him squarely in the eyes.
"No."
***
Jess shouldered the backpack while Gabriel slung the rifle over his back. He was surprised by how light it was. Between the two of them, he was the only one who had ever fired a gun, and not since his father had died. Even then, he had only ever shot on a range. What were the odds that he would have to use it though?
The others appeared ready, but none of them were in a hurry to head out into the storm. All wore matching expressions of apprehension, save Cavenaugh, whose mouth was a tight line of determination. Gabriel couldn't remember seeing him blink.
Will and Maura had been assigned the spring on the northern slope of Mount Isolation. It was the farthest trek, but the trail looked to be the easiest. Cavenaugh and Kelsey had chosen the northern slope of Mount Haverstam based on the spring's proximity to the mountain lion's charted range. Considering his police experience, it made the most sense to gamble that Cavenaugh would make the discovery so it could be handled by the book. Jess and Gabriel had been relegated to the southwestern slope of Mount Isolation, which meant they would follow the stream through the bottom of the valley before scaling the heavily-forested hillside. That placed them in a position to be the second party to reach either of the other sites should problems arise or if they found the bodies.
"Are there any final questions?" Cavenaugh asked. He paused just long enough to slide his Project 25-capable, digital walkie-talkie into his outer jacket pocket. "Good. Now let's get a move on before---"
The Mad and the MacAbre Page 14
