14. Ozzie
CHAPTER 14
Ozzie
H eavy boots on the Bartles’s wooden floor drew my attention away from the window. Turning, my gut clenched as I took in the vision before me.
There was no other way to describe it.
This was the real Claire Holmes.
Not the woman in the professional clothes and all the makeup, nor the woman in the icy-blue bathrobe and hot-pink fuzzy slippers.
It was this woman in insulated grayish-blue bibs, heavy boots, mauve wool sweater, and her blonde hair twisted into a messy bun on her head, face scrubbed free of makeup.
She was beautiful.
Her friend, and the chief’s wife, Christina walked alongside her. She met my gaze. A knowing smile spread over her face and into her dark eyes.
I cleared my throat and looked away. “All set?”
Claire smiled. “Yep.” She moved to the kitchen table and picked up the coat to match her bibs that was draped over a chair, and swung it around to thread her arms into the sleeves. With a quick rasp, she zipped it, then grabbed the hat and gloves on the table.
I zipped up my own coat and pulled a stocking cap on low over my ears. It wasn’t terribly cold—it was March now, after all—but once we got going, it would feel much colder with the wind in our faces.
The back door opened and Chief Bartles clomped inside. “The ATVs are gassed up and ready. Claire, I strapped Christina’s rifle to yours. It’s loaded and there’s more ammo in the pack on the back.”
I wanted to protest arming a civilian but held my tongue. That rifle wasn’t to ward off humans.
Bartles’s gaze turned to me. “Quartermaine, I don’t think I need to tell you to watch yourselves, do I?”
“No, sir.”
He gave a sharp nod. “I don’t like that Claire’s going with you, but out here, sometimes what’s frowned upon is a necessity. Bring our girl back the way you took her out, please.”
“I will.” And I would, even if I had to step in front of a bear to save her.
Claire tugged on her hat. “It’s not me you should be worried about, Tom. You know I grew up hiking the bush with my dad. I could hunt before I could read. He”—she hooked a thumb toward me—“grew up in the Appalachians .” She wrinkled her nose like it was a dirty word. “Are they even mountains?”
“Hey.” I scowled at her. “Lay off my mountains.”
“You mean your hills?”
I just raised an eyebrow and shook my head. “Can we go?”
Her musical chuckle filled the small kitchen. “Fine.” She turned to our hostess. “Christina, thank you again for the clothes. I’ll try not to get them too dirty.”
The woman waved a hand. “They wash. You two stay safe.” She looked at her husband. “You gave him the satellite phone, right?”
Tom nodded. “Hopefully, they won’t need it.”
I hoped so too. Because if I had to call in reinforcements, it meant all hell had broken loose. “We’ll see you hopefully later this afternoon, Chief. Thanks again for the gear.” I took a step toward the back door, ushering Claire in the same direction.
We made our escape and settled onto our ATVs. Tom had brought them here from the department’s storage facility. His house was closer to the Hammonds’ cabin and near the forest. It just made sense to leave from here.
Donning our helmets and firing up our four-wheelers, we pulled away from the Bartles’s house, Claire in front. We both had a GPS device, but had decided it would be best if she took the lead. While I was no stranger to rough terrain, the land here was much different to what I was used to in North Carolina.
At first, we kept a quick clip, sticking to the road that led east, away from town.
But the Hammonds’ cabin wasn’t on a road. It was well off into the bush.
After half an hour, she turned off the road and plunged into the wilderness.
Immediately, our speed slowed. Deadfall timber and boulders littered the forest floor, impeding our progress.
Steadily, though, we maneuvered through the bush and up the mountain. When, finally, the pin on the map was within five minutes of our location, I signaled Claire to stop.
She killed the engine on her ATV and removed her helmet. “Are you sure you want me to stay back this far? It’s half a mile away still.”
“Yes.” I cut the engine on my own machine and got off, removing my helmet. “I’ll hike in. You have your radio?”
She unzipped a pack on the back of her four-wheeler and produced the handheld radio Chief Bartles gave each of us.
I removed the one from my pack, along with a box of ammunition and my rifle. Normally, I carried a 9mm handgun, but it was impossible to holster with the heavy clothing. The rifle was more practical, anyway. It had more stopping power against a grizzly than my nine.
“Don’t forget the satellite phone.” She pointed at my pack.
“You keep it. I might not be in a position to use it. Do you know the morse code for S.O.S.?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but just in case…”
She gave me a tight smile. “Yeah. Just in case,” she said, her voice soft and thin. Those deep, midnight eyes darted away.
I slung the rifle across my chest and turned it so it lay over my back, business end facing the ground, then stepped toward her. “Claire. Hey, look at me.”
The wariness in her pretty eyes pulled at my heart. She’d been fierce and in control through all of this so far. Even when she was worried about her damn dog, I hadn’t seen this… stress or deep worry on her face.
I took her hand. “Everything will be fine. Even if Warren is there and armed, I know what I’m doing. He won’t be the first criminal with a weapon I’ve faced.”
“Maybe not, but out here, help is a long way away. Even with the sat phone and the ability to call in a helicopter, it’s probably an hour to the nearest hospital.” The worry in her eyes turned to sternness, and she jabbed me in the chest with her free hand. “Don’t get shot. Or stabbed.”
I offered her my sunniest smile, hoping to set her at ease. “I’ll be fine. Keep the grizzlies off my back, okay?”
She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away, the worry finally fading from her eyes. “Oh, go away.”
But it was still there in her voice.
Sobering, I took her hand again. “I promise I will be fine, okay?”
She gave a jerky nod, meeting my gaze, then looked away. “You better be.”
Giving her fingers one last squeeze, knowing there was nothing I could say to completely assuage her fears, I snatched the GPS device from my ATV, noting my current coordinates, and left her with the vehicles.
It didn’t take long to lose sight of her. Even with the bare lower branches of the pines, there were just so many, it obscured her and the vehicles from view.
The first stirrings of apprehension slithered through my gut, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Someone—or something—could sneak up on me out here, and I wouldn’t see them coming until the last moment.
Hopefully, I’d hear a bear or a moose long before I saw them.
Luckily, I saw neither.
Not quite ten minutes later, I stopped on the edge of the clearing that housed the cabin and studied the small, log-frame building.
The windows were dark, but that didn’t necessarily mean no one was home. It was daylight.
But the bigger clue it was empty was the lack of smoke drifting from the chimney. I didn’t even smell remnants of it. The cabin was too crude to have a furnace, even if it had a generator. There was also no propane tank in sight.
After watching the windows for several minutes, and still seeing no signs of life, I pulled my rifle around. I left the safety on but kept it at chest level. Cautiously, I approached the cabin door.
Standing to the side, I rapped my knuckles on the door. “Warren Hammond! It’s the police. Open up.”
I waited about fifteen seconds, then tried again. After the third time and still no answer, I tried the doorknob. It turned freely under my hand.
Heart thumping, I pushed the door inward. It creaked on its hinges as it opened.
“Hammond, I’m coming in.” Raising my rifle, I rounded the doorjamb and stepped over the threshold.
Blinking to make my eyes adjust to the dim interior, I scanned the tiny one-room cabin, noting the twin bed along the left wall, the couch in front of a small table in the middle, and the two-person table jammed into the corner to my right at the edge of the minuscule kitchen space. The woodstove stuck out in the middle of the wall to my right.
I walked over and held a hand out, feeling for heat. When I felt nothing, I removed my glove and laid my hand on top. It was stone cold.
Opening the door on the front, I peered inside. It was clear of ash. Taking a quick glance around, I noted the absence of wood inside the cabin. Even the floor was swept clean. It was like someone winterized the place and hadn’t been back since.
“Damn.” I rubbed my forehead, perturbed by the lack of progress in this case. Every time I turned around, I hit another dead end. No one had been here in months.
After rummaging through the cupboards and checking under the bed and mattress for anything that might offer a clue, I left empty-handed and with just as many questions as before.