Love By Accident

by Michelle Beattie

  "Son," Cougar laid a weathered hand on Matt's shoulder. "You couldn't afford me."

  "That's probably true," Matt laughed.

  "So what brought you this far into the bush?" Matt asked, as they pushed their way further.

  "A trucker mentioned he thought he'd seen an older truck parked off to the side of the road yesterday. So he brought me back here and I figured it couldn't hurt to take a little walk. I was about to give up when I scared some crows off. Kept going and found the animal."

  "You know, Cougar, when I asked for your help, I never meant for you to put yourself at risk. That's my job."

  "I know. And if I'd heard anything, I'd have called first. But I figured he was likely long gone and no harm could come of my having a look."

  Death always had an odor, no matter how recent it was and Matt smelled it even before Cougar confirmed the animal was just around the next stand of Tamaracks.

  Of all the bears they'd found so far, this was the freshest. Couldn't have been dead more than two days. Matt stopped Cougar where he was, not wanting anything to contaminate the site until he could do his investigation. Snapping on his gloves, he found the neat entry wound of the bullet and confirmed the gall bladder was missing. Pushing aside his anger and impotence at having been too late yet again, Matt set to work.

  An hour later, he was down to the metal detector and had about as much hope of finding anything with it as he did for global warming to suddenly reverse itself.

  The echoing beep of the detector in the otherwise silence jarred Matt. He swung the thing over a spot inundated with fallen needles and dead leaves and the machine squawked again. Had he finally caught a break?

  Heart pumping, he slid his hand down the arm of the metal detector and dropped to his knees while keeping the large disc hovering over the spot that kept the machine beeping rhythmically.

  Almost scared to hope, Matt called Cougar over.

  "Hold this steady."

  Using two hands, Matt slid his fingers into the forest litter and carefully felt his way. There were crispy leaves, damp, rotting ones and pokey needles that pricked his palms. But the cool round shape sliding underneath his fingers got his attention.

  The detector screeched loud and steady as Matt lifted his hand and saw the gold casing of a bullet lying within it.

  "Fuck me," he whispered, "now we're getting somewhere."

  ***

  Matt didn't bother removing either his jacket or his boots. He clomped to his couch and sunk into its depth. He'd called Lauren from the office and told her he wouldn't be by. He knew by her tone she was disappointed and worried, but he didn't want to put himself in the position of lying to her yet again. So he'd switched vehicles and driven home.

  Sliding his hand into his pocket he removed the gold casing and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. The metal was cool and smooth against his skin. He hadn't said too much to Cougar, wanting to keep the information to himself for now. He'd prayed for a break. Well, he'd gotten one.

  The bullet had come from an uncommon gun. Which meant there couldn't be more than a handful of locals, if even that many, who owned one of them. Since it was Sunday, he was essentially deadlocked at the moment. The gunsmith in Hinton wouldn't reopen until tomorrow. But he knew he was getting close.

  "Looks like good news you're holding there. Someone getting sloppy?"

  Matt's head shot up at the sound of Gil's voice and all the excitement he'd been feeling about gaining ground on the case got trampled by an acute flood of anger.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Matt demanded.

  Gil leaned against the wall connecting the living room from Matt's bedroom. From all appearances he seemed to be a ghost without a care in the world. Well, Matt thought, fuck that.

  "Why, what's going on?"

  Matt shoved to his feet. "Going on? I'll tell you what's going on. The last time your brilliant self instructed me to talk to Lauren guess what she said?"

  "That I'm better looking than you?"

  "No, asshole," Matt growled. "She said you hadn't loved her."

  Gil's smile faded. "What else did she say?"

  "Nothing! She clammed up and Mr. 'I come and go as I please' has been a no-show ever since." Matt nailed him with a glare. "Where the hell were you, Gil?"

  "I was busy."

  "Too busy to explain what she meant or too busy hiding from the truth? Is it even the truth?"

  Gil moved to a chair and sat down. His sigh came from the depths of his soul. "It's complicated."

  "So explain it to me."

  "I loved her, you know I did. For years it was great."

  Shit. Matt fell onto the couch. "It was great? When did that ever change?"

  Gil swallowed. "About three months before the accident."

  "But--" Matt shook his head. "I was there. I lived with you two, how could I have missed it?"

  "You were busy. You had work, and you were dating Nancy at the time. You weren't always home."

  Nancy Pollock. Matt had dated her about six months. She'd been at the party the night of the accident. She'd come to him in the hospital a few times afterward, all teary eyed about the accident, but Matt had been an ass to her. He'd been hurting over Gil and Lauren, been devastated about his injuries, and he'd all but told her not to bother coming back.

  "Even staying at Nancy's once in a while, I'd have noticed you and Lauren fighting."

  Gil looked at his shoes. "We didn't fight. We just--" he shrugged. "Lauren was a great girl but I was starting to think she wasn't the woman for me."

  Matt couldn't believe his ears. Gil had been starting to fall out of love with Lauren? Why? The woman was everything. She was beautiful, smart, sexy.

  "So that's what you wanted me to learn? That you and Lauren were breaking up? What's the big deal? People break up all the time."

  "She didn't tell you the rest," Gil said, his voice suddenly sounding tired. "But she will. She's getting closer to telling you everything."

  "What 'everything'"? This is bullshit. You're here, aren't you? You tell me."

  "It's not supposed to be me. It was always supposed to come from her."

  "But you just--"

  "Once she tells you things, Matt, I'm allowed to expand on them, comment, if you will. But she has to open that door. It's the rules."

  Matt growled again. "Fuck the rules, Gil. And what do you mean she's close to telling me? How the hell do you know? You can't get past her porch, remember?"

  "Actually," Gil said, "I can. I've been in her house. See? You're making progress."

  Matt's stomach tanked. Gil had been in Lauren's house? Shit. When? Matt cut a glance at his crotch. Yep, still dressed. But man, for a second there, he'd felt naked. He'd felt like a school kid, standing at the urinal and seeing the kid next to him eye him over and praying to God he measured up.

  ***

  Carm, something's going on.

  Great sex? Good, I want to hear all about it.

  Lauren watched the yellow emoticon appear, winking at her. But she couldn't smile for the pain in her heart.

  I'm serious.

  Okay, I'm listening.

  It's going to sound stupid, but something's going on in the Parks office and Matt won't tell me what it is.

  So? I'm sure your friend Ted never told you everything.

  No, but Ted never knew I used to be a ranger, either.

  But Matt did, and after he'd left earlier Lauren had thought about that. How Matt never discussed work, even the mundane stuff that wasn't confidential. How Matt had hurried to hide photos and papers that day she'd stopped at his office. How he'd never said anything about the reason he had to leave when Nick and Kyle had showed up unexpectedly for lunch. How he hadn't told her why he wouldn't come over tonight.

  Laur, it's likely nothing. Maybe he just doesn't like talking about work.

  Then things had really changed because in Waterton, Matt had talked about work all the time. It was one of many things they'd had in common.
r />   It's more than that, I can feel it. She told Carm how Matt had been called away, how he'd told her he couldn't talk about it. Okay, she hated that, but she could accept it. What bothered her, though, was that he'd said he'd come for supper. Only he'd called to say he couldn't make it after all. She knew by the call display he called from home. So, if he was home, and nothing was wrong, why wasn't he coming?

  You're thinking about what Gil did, aren't you?

  Nausea churned in her belly.

  How can I not?

  ***

  Considering her talk with Carm and Lauren's worry over Matt, it wasn't surprising that, once she finally fell asleep, dreams of the accident plagued her.

  "I'm not proud of myself, Lauren, but you can't deny our relationship isn't what it used to be."

  Of all the frigging nerve, she thought. "You can't have a relationship, Gil, when only one person is in the game."

  "Oh, hell, Lauren, we were going downhill before this."

  "That's not an excuse for what you did!" she yelled.

  "I'm not saying it was!" he yelled right back. He took a deep breath. "I know, all right. I know what I did was wrong, I'm admitting that."

  "Well, isn't that big of you," she sneered.

  "God, Lauren, why are you making this so hard?"

  "Because it is, Gil. Breaking up after five years should be, don't you think?"

  Tears pricked her eyes and blurred her vision. She blinked them back. Her dreams were shattering all around her and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She'd been so sure they were headed for marriage. Gil was right, they'd been having a rough patch, but she'd honestly believed they'd get through it. Not that Gil would--

  Lauren clenched the wheel, focused on the white reflector posts flying past her front fender.

  Gil leaned forward and touched her leg. The gesture, something he always did, broke her heart. She smacked his hand away. Already the pressure in her chest was painful, breathing was difficult. She needed to keep it together until they got home.

  Home.

  A sob caught in her throat and she ground her teeth and breathed through her nose until she had it under control. Just a few more kilometers. Then she could lock herself in the bathroom and let the tears flow, let the pain envelop her. She couldn't believe it was ending like this.

  "When we get to the apartment, I'll pack a bag, stay at a hotel. I'll be back to talk to Matt in the morning. I'd rather he hear this from me."

  "Of course, God forbid he find out the way I did." The car rumbled beneath her hands and she glanced at the speedometer. Ninety kilometers an hour. She pressed the pedal down, anger clawing for release.

  "Come on, we've been together for too long to end as enemies. I hope when things settle down we can salvage the friendship."

  Her jaw dropped. "Friends? I don't want your friendship. I don't want anything from you. After tonight, you're nothing to me."

  He flinched and reached for her again. "Lauren, please. I don't want it to be like--"

  "Don't touch me!" she yelled, her eyes flying to his. "Don't ever touch me again. We're through and you can go to hell for all I care."

  And then the car hit a patch of black ice and she yelled again. Over-correcting, the car slid sideways across the highway. Gil hollered but before she could do anything else the car skidded off the road. Crusty snow scraped the undercarriage. Turning the wheel and slamming on the brakes accomplished nothing. There was just the uncontrolled slide down the ditch and then the deafening crash as the vehicle broadsided the tree.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Matt parked in front of the gunsmith's, waited for the sign to turn to "open". His watch told him he had another five minutes to go. Another five on top of the twenty he'd already spent staring at the dusty windows of the shop. The light inside the store finally turned on and Matt was at the door when the deadbolt clicked.

  "Morning, Officer. You're here bright and early."

  Matt followed him to the counter where handguns were displayed under the glass surface. He pulled the casing out of his pocket and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.

  "You recognize this?"

  The clerk, an older man who still believed a comb-over disguised a balding head, took the gold piece and examined it.

  "Yeah, I recognize it. Comes from a .264 Winchester Magnum. Not a very common gun." He set the casing down.

  "But you sell the bullets for it?"

  The guy shrugged. "Well, not a lot. But there are a few guys around that own one, so yeah, if they need ammunition I look after them."

  "Wouldn't happen to know their names, would you?"

  "What for? They in trouble?"

  "We've been having some poaching in the Park, this casing could lead to the person involved."

  "Look, I don't want anybody getting pissed off at me 'cause I sicced some ranger onto them, 'specially if they're innocent. Makes for bad business," he said.

  Matt leaned on the glass. "And once all the animal activists realize the bullets involved for the slaughter of these animals were purchased locally, I don't think they'll take too kindly to you having withheld information that could have prevented more shootings."

  The man frowned. "I hate all those people, whining about gun control and registering and shit. Hell, most people who own a gun are harmless. Just do a bit of hunting. Legally," he added when Matt raised his brow.

  "Then the way I see it, your cooperation would go a long way in reinforcing that statement."

  "Hell, Officer, I'm screwed one way or the other."

  "Look, I don't go around accusing innocent people. I'm going to do this real quietly. You give me the names and I'll start investigating. Most of them can be cancelled out as suspects just by doing that. They'll never even know."

  The man sighed and rubbed a cheek in need of a shave. "Fine. There are only four that I know of. Shit," he mumbled, digging out a piece of paper and turning on his computer, "I hope I don't regret this."

  ***

  Matt's office had never felt so small. He'd unhooked his tie and thrown it over his shoulder, leaving it lying sprawled somewhere behind him. The brown liquid in his cup had been coffee two hours ago; now he wasn't so sure. His computer hummed and his head throbbed. He had the list of names in his hand and he didn't like what he was looking at. Not one goddamn bit.

  "Hey, a call came in about some elk up by the school grounds. I'm going to take a look."

  Gut twitching, Matt set the paper face-down and glanced at Nick. He was leaning against the frame of the door, arms crossed casually like he hadn't a care in the world.

  "Okay."

  "So nothing came of the bear Cougar took you to yesterday?"

  Matt forced his spine to relax and leaned back into his chair. "Not yet, but I haven't finished investigating."

  "Well," Nick said, "with you working the case, I'm sure it's just a matter of time, right?"

  "That's the plan."

  Nick's gaze was as cool as his smile. "Well, I'll catch you later."

  Matt watched Nick stride down the hall and around a corner. He shut his door and grabbed the list again. Breakfast wasn't sitting well in his stomach and his headache was intensifying by the second.

  Since leaving Hinton, Matt had convinced himself it was a shitty coincidence. Wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing. He pressed a hand to his stomach where his cereal was still churning. He'd been right to follow his gut when the first bear had been found. He'd known it was poached even if there hadn't been enough evidence to prove it.

  The phone rang, but Matt ignored it. Let voice mail get it. He had enough for the moment just thinking of his next move.

  Well, he knew he had to play it quiet, had to keep what he suspected to himself. Crumpling the list in his fist, Matt went to the records room. Before he assumed the worst, he had to know if it was even possible.

  Ten minutes later, Matt had the time sheets photocopied and stuffed into the brown folder clasped in his left hand. In his office, he
looked through all his notes on the investigation, focusing on approximate dates and times of death.

  "Fuck," he whispered, burying his face in his hands. Not only was Nick's name on the damned list the gunsmith had given him, but going by the work logs, he'd also had opportunity. That was two strikes against him. It remained to be seen if there would be a third. Matt had couriered the casing to the same forensics lab in Edmonton he'd sent the bullet to. The answer should come in the next few days if they'd come from the same weapon or not.

  Matt choked down the acid crawling up his throat. Poaching was a crime he couldn't stomach. But the possibility that it was done internally, by one of his own, was unforgivable.

  And it wouldn't go unpunished.

  ***

  Come on, Lauren thought as she looked out her kitchen window to the black Corvette and the man who had yet to step from it. Her hands coiled and uncoiled at her sides. Let's see you talk your way out of this one.

  She'd gone back to work after her few days off and the first thing Cougar asked her was had she heard about the poacher yet. At first Lauren thought nothing of it, not until he showed her the paper, yesterday's paper. Not until he told her that Matt had enlisted his help days ago on the very matter. The day he'd had to leave her place unexpectedly.

  Then all the pieces clicked into place. The photos on his desk he'd been quick to hide, the calls where he was pulled away, where he wouldn't tell her why. The longer days he'd been putting in. All the times he'd been quick to shut her out, keep her in the dark. Her blood had started to heat and as the day wore on and Matt didn't show his face in the café, it turned to a gentle boil. Now, watching him sit in that damned car, still too much of chicken shit to face her, her blood was ready to blow like a volcano.

  Just as she was contemplating getting her shoes on and marching outside, he finally stepped from the car. His shoulders were bowed, his hair was a mess. The street lights showed the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. His steps seemed weighted down as he made his way up her walk, his hands jammed in his pockets, his breath fogging the air.

  She let him knock twice before she yanked the door open. "What do you want?" she demanded, refusing to be swayed by the regret in his eyes.