I had no doubt that Honey’s ratings were soaring. She’d not only vilified the FBI for arresting Zarem and Hutchins, but even claimed that the feds and the Blackfeet were illegally trafficking in the organs of militia members! She insisted Rafe and Kyle had been killed as part of a massive cover-up.
I’d been proven wrong on one thing, however. The militia’s Internet business hadn’t been used to sell body parts; it was making a fortune solely through survival gear and outdoor fashions. In fact, the IPO was still on the fast track to go public. But Lungren had apparently been foolish enough to entrust Benny with all the paperwork. That allowed the Bopper to scam the militia, placing the company in his own name. I’d also learned that though most of the mob’s cash had been returned, Vinnie was now a partial owner in the jesus is coming.com enterprise. I suppose that was one way of recouping the rest of the money.
“Are you going to see Jake today?” Sally coyly inquired.
Santou was recuperating nicely at the hospital in Great Falls. Though the bullet had penetrated the right side of his chest, it miraculously managed to miss all his major arteries. Even now, a shiver ran through me as I remembered how he’d lain unconscious on the ground, bleeding at my feet. Losing Santou would have been as bad as losing life itself. Since he was willing to forgive me my affair, I supposed I had no choice but to forgive myself. I’d acknowledged the fact that we were meant to be together over these past few days.
“Yes. It’s nearly visiting hours, so I plan to head there now. I’ll see you later tonight.”
But I had somewhere else to go, first.
Getting into the Ford, I drove back up into grizzly country. I knew I’d never be able to sleep until I faced down the bogeyman. While I might not be able to permanently extinguish my fears, at least I could put a lid on the box, choosing when and where to open it.
I navigated the winding mountain road, parked my Ford, and began to walk the ridgeline, moving past cedar and lodgepole pines. Snow-covered peaks gazed down, chilling in their beauty. Eventually, I reached a high ridge where the valley yawned below. This would be the last hike of the season. Soon there would be too much snow.
I let the silence embalm me. The stillness slowly filled my veins and I realized it wasn’t so frightening, after all. Perhaps it really was time to let go of the ghosts. And, with that, the permafrost that had encapsulated me for so long began to thaw.
As a magnetic presence filled the air, I realized I wasn’t alone. I turned my head ever so slightly. As I feared, Old Caleb was standing there.
His dark brown fur glistened and rippled under the sun, its silver tips kissed by the frost. Regal in presence, Old Caleb stood less than fifty yards away. My hand instinctively slid toward the canister of pepper spray attached to my belt. I had no doubt this was the same bear that had killed Lungren. What would he do to me?
Old Caleb never made eye contact. Instead he continued to gaze upon his realm, as if taking one last look before heading back into the earth for his long winter sleep. Averting my eyes, I lowered my head to show that I posed no threat. Then I followed his lead and gazed down on the valley.
An enormous sense of peace came over me, even as I faced my own mortality. No matter the price, I truly believed this was the grizzlies’ land to roam—country so wild that it remained untouched by the track of man. When I finally dared to look over again, the bear had vanished. I made my way back down to the Ford on shaky legs.
I opened the vehicle door and climbed inside, where yet another surprise awaited me. There on the seat was a miniature sandbox, identical to Matthew Running’s. He clearly knew that my choice had been made. Arranged on its surface were a jagged gold heart, a grizzly claw, and his dog tag. The only thing missing was a wounded soul.
I gently raked the sand around them. While there was no escaping the past, it revealed that life was too short to be consumed by guilt and regret. There would always be ghosts, pain, and memories. I’d just have to figure out how to live with them.
My finger rested for a moment on the jagged gold heart. Then I turned on the engine and drove toward my future, where Santou was patiently waiting for me.
Acknowledgments
Thanks go to Chuck Ward, District Law Enforcement Ranger with the Bureau of Land Management; COL. Commodore Mann, former USFWS Senior Resident Agent and presently the 95th TC Commander of the Montana Army National Guard; Special Agents Tim Eicher and Doug Goesman; wilderness guide Smoke Elser; Dr. Chuck Jonkel; Merriem Baldwin; and finally to Special Agent Rick Branzell, who gave so generously of his experience, time, and friendship.
About the Author
JESSICA SPEART writes about environmental and wildlife issues. Her writing has appeared in the New York Times Sunday Magazine, OMNI, Travel & Leisure, Audubon, National Wildlife, Mother Jones, Delta’s Sky Magazine, and many other publications. Coastal Disturbance is her seventh Rachel Porter mystery. Jessica lives in Connecticut with her husband and their two dogs, Max and Tallulah.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A KILLING SEASON. Copyright © 2002 by Jessica Speart. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © MARCH 2007 ISBN: 9780061844355
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