Chapter 13
13
ALTA
I groaned and kind of whimpered to myself for the hundredth time in the two hours I’d been on shift, as I replayed our slightly random, very awkward conversation. I bet I sounded like a freaking lunatic, spewing all my quirks and issues one second, then ‘hoping’ for him to not be gentle. Who in the heck said stuff like that?
Me, it seemed.
Desperate me.
Ugh, this dark, outspoken, needy side was not the best side of Alta Johnson. I wasn’t weak except when he was around, but somehow it was empowering, knowing I could be weak because he was with me. How did any of that even make sense? Either way, all that security evaporated the second he stepped out the door to let me get ready for work. The paranoias and fears bubbled back to the surface, reminding me of the scared, anxious woman I really was.
A familiar female voice screeched over the radio, a faint crackle of static in the background, making me jump and my foot slip off the gas pedal. The dispatcher reported that a hiker called in, stating a man was seen camping along a trail, which was illegal outside of designated camping grounds in the park, and bonus, he seemed to be taking full advantage of Colorado’s legal marijuana law. Stretching across the seat, I snagged the radio and responded that I was somewhat close and would check it out.
As I U-turned to take a shortcut across the park, the bright rays of the setting sun momentarily blinded me until I could lower the visor. Pinks and blues highlighted the pre-evening sky, creating a beautiful backdrop to the snow-capped mountains. That was what kept me here the past couple of years. These beautiful mountains, the animals, the scenery—everything was the perfect example of serenity. Something I desired on a daily basis.
Fifteen minutes later, I killed the truck’s engine and radioed that I was on scene. The truck door creaked as I shoved it open, putting my shoulder into it against the excessive wind. Rubbing my hands together, I surveyed the empty parking lot. At that altitude, the temperature was significantly colder than the bottom, but at least I would be protected from the wind on the trail. Taking my flashlight, heavy coat, gloves, and beanie from the seat, I slammed the door shut, the bang echoing through the dark silence.
Investigating before the sun set would’ve been ideal, but it didn’t work out that way, and I had a job to do. Who knew what that dumbass was doing camping illegally, but poaching was my number one concern. The animals in the park weren’t too scared of humans because of the millions of visitors each year, which made them prime prey for illegal hunting. That was why I had to go out now and not wait until morning; I wouldn’t forgive myself if an animal was slaughtered because I was too scared of the dark to do my job.
“Birdie,” John called through the radio. “Birdie, answer me. Over.”
Only after I pulled on both gloves and situated my hat over my already frozen ears did I pull the radio from my belt. “Yeah, Johnny Boy? Over.”
“Do not go out there alone. I’ll send someone out to meet you. That’s an order. Over.”
Again I glanced around the empty, dark parking lot. Nearby branches creaked and groaned as the high wind whipped through the trees, creating an eerie feel. “I’m already here and don’t want to wait. I’ll be fine. Over.”
“Alta, we had another report come in that they saw a man matching our illegal camper’s description with a rifle slung over his back. Do not, I repeat, do not go in there alone. Over.”
My nostrils flared as anger fostered in my veins, warming my chilled blood. “You know what that means, John. You can’t expect me to wait while that idiot hunts one of our animals. I’m going up there. Tell whoever’s coming up to meet me when they can. Over.”
“I’m giving you a direct order. Over.”
The unmistakable pop of gunfire rattled through the parking lot. I held a breath, waiting for more. “I heard gunshots. I’m going in.”
Poor John. His belligerent voice bellowed through the radio, but instead of listening, or having him give away my position to the idiot who just shot a gun in a national park, I twisted the knob all the way down to silence him and clipped the radio back onto my belt.
The worn dirt trail hushed each of my soft steps. Gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, I concentrated to pick up on anything out of the ordinary in the dense forest. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves spiked my nerves higher. Sweat built and dripped down my spine and temples despite the cold temperature. With each step, I fought the urge to sprint back to the safety of the truck. But I couldn’t go back, not when a helpless animal out there needed me to muster my courage to protect them.
Another, much louder boom echoed amongst the trees. Self-preservation kicked in and my knees buckled, sending me falling face first to the dirt. After several failed attempts, my trembling fingers finally found the flashlight’s switch and flicked it off. Dense blackness engulfed the surrounding area. Lying on the cold ground with the nocturnal animals calling all around, panic set in, stealing my breath and train of thought.
He could be anywhere, maybe even hunting me now.
What if he’s watching?
He’s watching. I know it.
If he takes me, I won’t survive. I can’t do that again.
Heart hammering against my chest, I pushed out all the anxious thoughts.
I had to focus. Now was not the time to be paralyzed by a panic attack.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and held it until the welcomed burn in my lungs provided the calming center I needed. Again I inhaled a deep breath, but the shriek of a wounded animal shattered any sense of calm I’d managed.
Palms against the moist dirt, I pressed up to all fours, readying to move. I held a breath, waiting for another cry for help. My attention whipped to the right at another screech. Something crashing through the trees and underbrush grew louder and closer with each of my shaky breaths.
This was my chance.
Flashlight pressed to my thigh to keep the light as minimal as possible, I crept low and moved off the trail, heading toward the animal that needed me.
The unmistakable pungent scent of gunpowder floated past on a gust of mountain wind. Far away from the trail, deeper and deeper into the thick cluster of trees, I stalked forward as the smell grew, now mixed with the metallic scent of fresh blood.
A rustle of leaves swung me around. Panting in fear, I angled my gun toward a cluster of boulders. Squished between two rocks, I found her.
I fell to my knees several feet away to avoid startling her. Blood bubbled from a gunshot wound in her neck, and another steadily seeped in her long, lean leg. In the darkness of the night, in the now-silent forest, the beautiful doe’s dark eyes met mine, allowing all her pain and fear to pass through in the single look.
One inch, then another, I moved closer. Each second I waited, I knew her murderer grew closer, desperate to locate his illegal kill.
Again those dark eyes, so full of pain, met mine. I knew what she was asking.
In the distance, a new sound echoed through—the eerie howl of wolves growing closer.
If I left her mortally wounded to pursue the fucker responsible for her misery, Darla the deer would be left as easy prey for those wolves to eat her alive.
That left only one choice. One humane option. One I’d witnessed several times growing up. It was my duty to take care of this precious animal, to end her pain.
Withdrawing my pistol, I shined the light into her eyes, stunning her and highlighting my target, and pulled the trigger.
I screamed in anger and misery as the gunshot echoed. Tears dripped down my cheeks as I crawled to the deer I was forced to put down. Gripping her neck, I tugged her limp body close, allowing my tears to fall on her coarse coat.
For several long minutes, I sobbed while clutching Darla until the hairs along the back of my neck stood on end, halting my sobs. Making quick work of the flashlight, the area was once again doused in darkness. Restraining a ragged breath, I listened for any signs of someone close by.
I swallowed down a whimper at the snap of a branch. Everything stilled; even the nocturnal animals quieted, waiting to see what would happen next. Palming my gun, readying for anything, I listened as another branch snapped, then a rustle of leaves, followed by the distinct pounding of footsteps moving farther and farther away.
“Bastard,” I grunted under my breath as I stood. Of course the coward was running.
Instead of following farther away from the trail, I moved back toward the path. The reports mentioned his campsite was along the trail; hopefully I would get lucky and he would return to his campsite instead of leaving it behind.
Three bounding steps through the dark, my foot snagged on something, sending me falling face first into a tree.
Turning the flashlight on would draw attention, but a tree to the face was a brutal reminder that I was no mountain woman. No way could I navigate this rocky terrain with only the light from the half-moon out.
A mile up the trail, the clinking of metal and mumbled curses slowed my steps. He did return to camp. The man paced around his small campsite, talking to himself. From behind a tree, I scouted the well-lit campsite in search of his rifle.
Snapping off my flashlight, I crept closer. White, mid-thirties, long beard—which didn’t say much since most men grew beards these days—and a short joint hanging from his moving lips.
Perfect. High and armed. This night went from bad to worse fast.
I stifled a yelp and spun on my heels at a hand on my shoulder, only to relax at the sight of a familiar officer.
“That our guy?” he asked as he checked the clip of his Glock.
I nodded. “Killed a doe about a mile back.”
The ranger’s head dropped forward with a sigh. “Ready?”
Steeling my spine with what little energy I had left, I nodded. “You have no idea.”