Chapter 10 #3
Inside the tent, it was too warm. She shut off the little heater and made a mental note to charge its battery at the first opportunity.
Then she went to their stack of camping supplies.
Most had been unpacked from the giant duffle and arranged in reasonable order.
But the extra backpack lay on its side, looking empty.
It wasn’t.
She had a gun in that bag, a small but potent .38 caliber revolver with a trigger lock. The key was in the backpack’s side pocket.
She’d never been an advocate of guns, but when Earl had been stalking her, she’d decided there were times when a person needed extra protection—especially if that person was a woman with a batshit crazy ex.
So she’d bought a gun and taken lessons at a firing range fifteen miles from home. She hadn’t even told her mom.
And she hadn’t told Wolf that she’d brought the weapon along.
She took the gun out, took off the trigger lock, but turned on the safety.
Then she put a bullet into every spot in its revolving chamber.
She slid the gun into a pancake holster attached to a wide elastic belt, and then stretched it around her waist under her shirt.
Her oversized hoodie covered the gun’s bulge.
She was straightening the hoodie when Wolf came in, and she didn’t want to talk just then about his belief in her or lack thereof, so she took Ranger Dan’s torn sheet of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him.
He studied it. “I know you think this is related to my case, but I can’t figure out how.”
“Fine, it’s not related. We’re finished here, then. It’ll be daylight soon. Might as well pack up and head home.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait, I didn’t say it’s not related. Just that I don’t know how.”
She rolled her eyes, then crouched low to unzip their sleeping bags, peeling them apart and feeling the symbolism of it like a blade.
“I don’t know how either. But why else would he rip this page from a logbook and bring it to our tent in the wee hours, when he wasn’t even on duty?”
“How do you know he wasn’t on duty?”
“He told us he had to get back and punch out,” she said.
“Riiiight.” Wolf nodded. “Okay, what if this list is a clue? What would we do next?”
“Well, if one of the people who took a boat tour yesterday knows something, then we need to figure out which one, and what they know. We could start following up on these names one by one—what are there, six, seven? Or we could do the obvious thing. Go down by the river and see what that group left under the cairn.”
He lowered his head, shaking it slowly. “Come on, Camellia. What are the chances that out of all the parties who booked river tours yesterday, the group we noticed is the one with a connection?”
“What are the chances they’re not? That woman was Native, Wolf.” She held up her hands, like she was balancing platters on each palm. “You know I do this for a living, right? You’re not doing me a favor by just pretending to let me help you, are you Wolf? This is my job. And I’m damn good at it.”
He stared at her and said nothing. Then he lowered his head and said, “I don’t know what I did that has you so pissed at me.”
“It’s what you didn’t do,” she said. Then she bit her lip so she wouldn’t say more. “And I guess I shouldn’t have expected it. Neither of us wanted this.”
“Camellia, you’re going too fast. I can’t keep up.”
She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d cry.
“We’re breaking camp and getting out of here, but before we head back to the pickup, I’m going down to that spot and looking at what that group left behind.
You can do what you want. I was prepaid by my client—your mother—and I’m damn well going to finish the job. ”
He said, “Okay,” and then he turned toward the supplies and started packing them up. After a moment, he asked, “Are you all right, Camellia?”
Just like a man to blame her anger with him on something being wrong with her. She looked him right in the eyes. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m scared, because my stalker is here, and crushingly disappointed that you don’t believe me about that.”
“Oh,” he said, and his face was the human equivalent of a lightbulb turning on.
“Yeah. Oh.” She knelt and rolled up the sleeping bags as if she were angry with them, resulting in nice, tight bundles that fit easily into the bag of supplies.
Wolf went outside, returning in several trips with the cookstove, its gas tank disconnected, the coffeepot, their folded-up chairs.
By the time he’d made the final trip, she had everything else packed in the big canvas bag.
She was the only one who knew how to jigsaw puzzle all the parts to fit. Her dad had taught her.
She really missed her dad.
Wolf touched her arm. “I believe you, Camellia. If you say Earl is here, he’s here. I’m sorry it took me a minute.”
“Or are you just saying that to placate the crazy lady, and make for a peaceful ride home?” She shrugged, shaking her head, hauled the large duffel bag’s strap over her shoulder and took it out. Then she set it down and started pulling tent stakes while he was still inside.