Chapter Eight #2
It’s too late, though. The inner warning comes after I’ve lunged, and then I’m lying on the tarp, gripping the body bags with both hands, my legs having nowhere to latch on to. I’m sliding, holding those damn bags, and it’s too late to release them.
I’m about to shout for help. I presume Dalton had returned to looking forward when we hit that bump. The bag slides more, and I start falling over the back end—
A hand grabs my coat and wrenches me up. It’s Dalton, running beside the ATV, holding me. The bear is still facing the other way, but it’s standing still now, nose lifted to sniff the air.
We’re traveling at maybe ten miles an hour.
It’s fast for Dalton to run, but not nearly fast enough to escape that bear if it turns around and charges.
It’s had time to rest, and it’ll come at us at its full forty miles an hour, with maybe a half mile between us.
Dalton will never get back into the ATV in time. What the hell have I done?
I resist the urge to shove the bags out the back end. I have them, and I heave, and Dalton gives them a push. Then he cuts the rope on the tailgate and yanks it up, even as I wildly motion for him to get back into the damn vehicle. The bear is still standing there, its back to us, sniffing the air—
“Turning left!” Anders shouts.
I brace. It’s a hard left, and I fall onto Storm, but the tail gate is shut and Dalton’s running alongside again, ducking the branches. He hauls my arm. He wants me back in my seat.
I do that, and I motion for him to get in, but he waits for the click of my seat belt. Then he dashes forward … and needs to wait again, now until the path is wide enough for him to get the door open.
I squint back, looking for the bear, but we’ve turned enough that I don’t see it. That means it can’t see us, but it also means I won’t know if it charges. Dalton is finally inside, and I lean to say, “Can we go faster?”
Dalton nods, and he speaks to Anders. We pick up speed. I keep my gaze on the forest, straining to listen for a roar, to see a blur of motion.
“Don’t go straight back!” Dalton shouts.
At first, I think he’s talking to me—and I have no idea what that means. Then I realize it’s for Anders, who says, “I know!”
Don’t go straight back to Haven’s Rock.
Don’t risk leaving a trail that could bring the bear to town.
The ATV leaves a scent of its own, and while I don’t think bears have the capacity to jump from “I smelled my dinner in that stinky metal thing” to “I need to track the stinky metal thing to find my dinner,” we can’t take any chances.
Also, the bear is no more than a few miles from Haven’s Rock now. We can’t let it get close.
Anders continues on this straightaway until we’re sure the bear isn’t following.
Then he takes—or creates—other trails, circling all the way around the lake to the south of town before coming back along the shore.
A group is out fishing on the far side, and they turn to wave …
and then stare … which is when I realize Blake’s arm is out of the tarp, his hand hanging over the side.
I wave, as if nothing’s wrong, and then say to Dalton and Anders. “Let’s hope they’re too far away to see what that was.”
Dalton shakes his head, and Anders says, “My hand. I have really long arms, and I don’t need to hold the wheel with two hands. Also, I’m wearing a white glove.”
“On one hand?”
“It worked for Michael Jackson.” He launches into an off-key rendition of “Thriller.”
I groan and thump my head back against the seat. Dalton doesn’t get the reference, and just ignores us, as usual.
When we near town, Storm and I jump out.
I fix the dangling hand before Storm and I head into Haven’s Rock.
The guys will skirt around the edge so no one comes out for a look.
Even without that hand, they’re going to wonder what we have wrapped up, and I’d really rather no one runs over to lift the tarp, hoping for venison.
Storm and I head straight to the clinic.
A few people see us and wave. I wave back and keep moving …
until I spot Max and Gunnar, walking, deep in conversation.
Max is eleven and Gunnar is twenty-nine, but we’ve long established that there is nothing unhealthy in the friendship.
Max lost his dad before coming to Haven’s Rock, and Gunnar lost his childhood in a family tragedy when he was about Max’s age. They’re good for each other.
I call them both over. “Max, I need to steal Gunnar. Would you mind taking Storm? She’s had a bit of a scare, and I think she’d just like to hang out for a bit.”
“Sure. I’ll play a scenting game with her. She likes that.” He looks at me. “What kind of scare?”
I make a face. “We had to go faster in the ATV than she likes.”
I don’t mention the bear. Max had an experience last year, where he’d been kidnapped by someone wearing a bearskin, and while he knows that wasn’t a real bear, when it comes to trauma, it’s the experience that counts.
He’d initially thought it was a bear, so he’ll always link that trauma to bears, and it’ll make him anxious if I suggest there is a grizzly around.
He takes Storm, and I lead Gunnar to the clinic.
I head around to the back and rap on the door.
April didn’t have office hours today, so I expect I’ll need to go hunting for her, but I’ll start here.
The door cracks open two seconds after I knock, and April peers out.
“I am with a patient,” she says. “Rory is safely upstairs with Kenny.”
Right. Anders mentioned that Yolanda might need to swap Rory off to someone, so she could take her patrol shift. April must think I’m here to collect my daughter.
“Actually, I need the clinic,” I say. “We have a body.”
She opens the door another inch, but her expression doesn’t change. She just keeps looking at me, waiting.
“We have a body,” I say. “It’ll require an autopsy.”
“I presume this is a joke, and while I would find it amusing at any other time, I’m a bit busy, Casey.
If you need Rory right now, I’ll ask my patient to move so you can come through and retain their privacy.
However, I would prefer you to return later.
You have been gone half the day. Another twenty minutes won’t matter. ”
I try not to bristle at that. It sounds like criticism—I’ve dumped my kid on babysitters for half the day. It’s not. It’s just a statement of fact, told in my sister’s usual way.
I lower my voice. “We really do have a body, April. Remember I mentioned that hiker from yesterday?”
“Oh, yes, the one you attempted to treat. You are not a doctor and—”
“He didn’t die of a sprained ankle,” I say. “Now, if you can please finish up your appointment and let me know when it’s safe to bring the body in the back here.”
“You aren’t joking. About the body.”
“No, and if you give me shit for finding another corpse, I’m going to get very testy. We’ve had a hell of a morning, and I want to bring the body in and then see my daughter.”
Her voice lowers. “I never give you ‘shit,’ Casey. I tease you.”
“Yes, well, it can sound like giving me shit, and I’ve had a very long day because we found a body that I really would have been happier not finding.”
“Of course. Let me wrap up here.”