Chapter 26
Tean’s first thought, when they got to the front of the lodge, was that only the cold had prevented a crowd from forming.
Even with the sun shining, even with the snow so bright it was like glass, the cold made Tean’s face prickle.
He had already started a mental timer. More than ten minutes, and Jem needed to go inside.
As it was, there was no crowd. Three men stood in an uneasy line, all of them dressed in dark winter gear marked with the lodge’s logo. One was middle-aged. One was younger, probably still in his twenties. The third was Vaughan.
His expression darkened when he saw them. “How did you—” He shook his head. “Please go back inside.”
“We were told there was an animal-related incident,” Tean said.
“Please go back inside, Dr. Leon.”
“This is kind of his thing, you know,” Jem said. “He’s a wildlife veterinarian.”
Vaughan’s cheeks and nose were red, but that might have been as much from the cold as anything else.
It was the twentysomething kid—White, rangy, dark hair visible under his knit cap—who blurted, “It looks like wolves.”
“What do you mean?” Tean said.
Vaughan sighed. “Come on.”
He waved a hand, like he meant for the other two men to stay, but when he started forward, the twentysomething bounded along at his side, already answering Tean’s question. “The tracks. We go hunting with my uncle up in Idaho sometimes in the Sawtooths. I’ve seen wolf tracks before.”
The snow hid an uneven spot in the ground, and Tean stumbled. Jem caught his arm. When Tean glanced over, Jem’s mouth was set in a hard line.
“There aren’t any established wolf packs in Utah,” Tean said.
“And I’ve seen a mule deer after they get at it,” the young man was saying, as though Tean hadn’t spoken. “This is just like it.”
“Let him take a look first,” Vaughan said.
“I bet you anything it’s wolves.”
Vaughan glowered, and the younger man shut his mouth.
It took a few moments before Tean realized where Vaughan was taking them—a dirty patch of snow barely twenty feet ahead that, he could now see, wasn’t snow at all, but instead was a gray tarp that had been staked at the corners.
“It was upsetting the guests,” Vaughan said as he moved to one side. “If you don’t mind, we’ll hold the tarp to keep it out of sight. Jared?”
The young man—apparently Jared—took the other side of the tarp. He and Vaughan unstaked the far corners and raised the tarp from that end; the side closest to the lodge was still staked to the ground, which turned the tarp into a temporary privacy barrier as Vaughan and Jared held it up.
Below it, a moose had been butchered.
It was the first word that came to mind for Tean.
A moose was a big animal—they could be anywhere from five to seven feet tall at the shoulder, and a big male might weigh well over a thousand pounds.
A cow was smaller, but they were still big by any measure.
This one had been cut open and partially eviscerated, with wounds on the flanks and neck.
Tean knelt. Without gloves, he didn’t want to touch the moose for a better inspection, but he did lean closer. Jem grabbed him by the shoulder, steadying him, and the extra support let Tean bend down to inspect the wounds on the flanks. Long, clean slices. No puncture wounds. No signs of tearing.
“And you can see the tracks, too,” Jared said.
Tean sat back on his heels for a view of the ground around the moose.
Sure enough, bloody tracks marked the snow—some clearly animal, and some from shoe prints.
He took a pen from his pocket for scale and documented the size and depth of the prints with the camera on his phone.
Then he documented the moose’s carcass as well, with close-ups of the injuries as well as larger shots in situ.
“Don’t know how much help those tracks will be,” Vaughan said. “The guys trampled all over this place before I got out here.”
Tean nodded. “You can cover it again if you’d like. But you might lose the prints.”
“This’ll keep the snow out of them,” Jared said.
“Depending on how much the day warms up, the snow under the canvas might melt—it will collect and trap additional heat. Even if the surrounding area stays frozen, there’s a chance those prints will be gone.”
“You took photos?” Vaughan asked.
Tean nodded.
“We can’t move it until I get a snowcat up here,” Vaughan said. “And we can’t have the guests staring at it all day.”
Tean didn’t say anything. He got to his feet as Vaughan and Jared restaked the tarp.
“Weird place for wolves to be hunting,” Jared said. “My uncle says they don’t like to get this close to people.”
“Your uncle is correct,” Tean said. “Mr. Larsen, could we have a word with you? Inside?”
Vaughan sent Jared back to join the other security guard, and then he led Tean and Jem into the vestibule at the front of the lodge.
The narrow space between the two sets of doors was only marginally warmer than outside, but it had the advantage of being private—no one could hear them, and no one could come close enough to eavesdrop without being noticed.
The same bellboy from the previous two days, no longer bright and chipper and standing crisply at attention, now sat in a chair on the far side of the lobby.
He gave them a considering look, as though trying to decide if he was supposed to check on them, and then sank back down and started playing on his phone again.
“Well?” Vaughan said.
“That wasn’t a wolf attack. It wasn’t any kind of animal attack.
The wounds were made post-mortem, and they were made with a knife.
Or knives. The evisceration is completely unnatural; the incision is the kind hunters use when they’re cleaning game.
Even if it had been an animal, scavengers wouldn’t have left the organs behind. ”
“Damn,” Jem said under his breath.
For a moment, Vaughan lowered his head. “You’re saying people did that.”
“Yes.”
“They killed a moose, cut it up to look like animals had gotten at it, and then what? Dragged it out here and left it where everyone would see it? Why?”
Tean turned to Jem; the blond man gave a tiny shake of his head. “I’m not sure,” Tean said. “All I can tell you is that it wasn’t an animal attack.”
“How’d it die?”
“I’m not sure. I’d need to examine it more closely. I might need to conduct a full necropsy. My guess is that it was shot, but we can’t see the injury because of how the carcass has been positioned.”
Vaughan was silent for longer this time. “And the tracks?”
“They are…inconsistent. I’m guessing they were made with either some sort of model, or with a taxidermy specimen.
” When Vaughan didn’t say anything, Tean continued, “There’s only one distinct print.
It’s the same one for each track. The depressions in the snow vary in depth, but they should be relatively consistent.
In some places, they barely broke the surface of the snow; in others, they’re several inches deep. ”
“So, we’re looking for a one-legged wolf that can fly,” Jem said. “Super.”
It was a strange comment, made stranger by the playful tone of his voice. When Tean checked Jem’s face, the blond man’s eyes were dilated. And that didn’t make sense when it was so bright outside.
Vaughan stood there, still staring at the floor. Finally, he put his hands on his hips and raised his head. “All right. Thank you.”
“Mr. Larsen,” Tean said, trying to pick out the words that wouldn’t reveal too much, “I believe that moose was left as a message.”
“As a message?”
“A threat.”
A noise that threatened to become a laugh escaped Vaughan—unhappy, tired, disbelieving. “What are you talking about?”
“Whoever did that,” Tean said, “it’s cruelty bordering on sadism.
They’re also skilled hunters. They know what they’re doing with knives and guns.
And even though it must have been incredibly difficult to move that moose, considering the conditions outside and the animal’s size and weight, they chose to position it exactly where they knew people at the lodge would be unable to miss it. ”
“That’s what he means,” Jem said, “when he says it’s a message.”
Vaughan shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. A message to who? And why here?”
Jem’s expression didn’t change, but Tean could sense the warning radiating off him.
The silence grew outward until finally Vaughan shook his head again.
“You get a lot of strange types up here. People who don’t like tourists.
People who’d like it if they had the mountains all to themselves.
Real backwoods types.” With the sound of someone trying to convince himself, he said, “It’s probably a prank. ”
“It’s not a prank,” Tean said. “And you need to be prepared, because they’re not going to stop at leaving a message like that on your front door.”
“What does that mean?” Vaughan said. “What are they going to do?”
“He’s saying be careful,” Jem said. He caught Tean’s arm. “That’s all.”
For a moment, Tean struggled to swallow his words. Finally, he nodded.
Vaughan frowned like he might press the issue, but then he scratched one eyebrow and, like he was offering them an olive branch, said, “I’ve got the word out about the kids.
Everybody on staff has their descriptions, and they know to radio me if they see anything strange—wait staff, housekeeping, everybody.
We’ll be in and out of every room in this place today. We’ll find them.”
“Thank you,” Tean said. “We want to help too.”
Vaughan waved one hand in front of the automatic doors, and they slid open. Mingled voices swept into the vestibule on a wave of warm air. “Stay inside. Stay safe. That’s how you help. The roads’ll be open later today, they’re saying. Tomorrow at the latest.”
Tean nodded. Jem still had him by the arm and urged him into the lobby. The automatic doors slid shut behind them, and on the other side of them, Vaughan was already speaking into a radio, the words indistinct through the glass.