Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

“Okay, see you soon.” Detective Heather Patterson hung up her cell and put it in her pocket.

Rachette looked over at her. “Was that Wolf?”

She nodded.

“What did he say?”

“He’s on his way. He was up north. He’s a few minutes behind us.”

She bounced hard in her seat as Rachette hit another rock. He seemed to swerve into bumps rather than around them. “Easy! Watch where you’re going.”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Rachette said. “You want to drive?”

“Yeah. I do. I did. Remember?”

He scoffed. “If you were driving, we’d still be back on the pass. Just hang on.”

Patterson’s forearm and bicep were cramping from hanging on. She turned to her open window, sucking in a breath of the biting fresh air streaming in, and reminded herself things could have been much worse. She could have been sitting behind that sheriff’s desk, delegating instead of being there herself.

“Pretty great, huh? Being in on the action instead of cooped up in that office?” Rachette said, clearly reading her thoughts. “Ass parked firmly in that leather chair, going over talking points you were going to cover in your lunch meeting with the county treasurer?”

She frowned, keeping her eyes out her window, but inwardly shocked at the accuracy of his ribbing. She had traded the sheriff’s job for this moment at the cost of a lot of public scrutiny that bordered on humiliation. But at that moment, watching the trees, meadows, and shrubs skate by, the smell of pine and the cool air hitting her face, for the first time in a while, she knew for certain it was all worth it.

“How much longer?” Rachette asked.

She poked the GPS unit screen. “Less than a mile.”

“I gotta take a piss so bad.”

“Of course you do.” Her nine-year-old son had a bigger bladder.

Rachette revved around the next turn, fishtailing the back end on the washboard dirt, and the view opened up as they exited a patch of forest and entered a wide meadow.

A group of vehicles were parked along the road ahead: Two Ashland Police Department vehicles, two county sheriff’s department units, and a black Ford F150.

Sergeant Gantrell stood near the front APD vehicle. He turned and walked their way.

“Finally,” Rachette said, skidding up behind the first vehicle. As they rocked to a stop, Rachette launched out of his seat and jogged to the back bumper.

She got out and shut the door, turning to the front and walking quickly, trying to ignore the noises coming from her partner. Behind her, he moaned to the sky while the sounds of a frantic stream hitting the road told her he was relieving himself. She would need to scrub yet another Rachette experience from her mind. They were stacking up. There wasn’t enough time left in her life for the meditation necessary.

As she stepped away, nearing Gantrell, the sounds of nature took over. Rushing water echoed from somewhere in the dense woods to her left. Her gaze climbed above the officer’s approaching form to the thirteen-thousand-foot peaks. They were still slathered in snow from the wet winter.

It had been a long time since she’d been in this part of the county, this far south of Rocky Points and out in the wilderness near Ashland.

“Sheriff,” Gantrell said. His smile was forced, distracted.

She’d gotten to know Gantrell during her time in office and her regular visits down to the Ashland Police Department. He was a father of three girls and had a dry sense of humor that she hadn’t detected until well into their first meeting, but ever since, she’d gotten to like the man.

“It’s detective now,” she said.

“Right.” He shook her hand with a warm, soft grip. “How are you liking the demotion?”

“I’m on the job instead of at the desk.” She shrugged as if the rest of the answer were self-evident.

“I’m not sure that desk would be too bad today.” He shook his head.

Rachette came up with quick footsteps. “Sup Gantrell?” Rachette held his hand out to shake.

Patterson pulled on the sleeve of Rachette’s jacket, making them whiff the formality. “Were you not just relieving yourself with that hand?”

Rachette looked at his palm like it was a foreign object.

“There’s hand sanitizer in the center console,” she said.

Clearly annoyed, he went back to the SUV, then walked back, rubbing his hands together. She waited patiently, then asked, “So? What do we got?”

“Two bodies,” Gantrell said.

“Two?” Rachette frowned. “They told us one.”

“Yeah, well, we found another one.”

“Both bear attack?” Patterson asked.

“I don’t think so,” Gantrell said.

“Then what are we looking at here?” Rachette folded his arms. “Where is everyone?”

Gantrell pointed to the trees on their right and the thin path leading into them. “They’re down the trail.” He rubbed a sleeve over his nose, his eyebrows pinching together. His skin was pale. “Let’s get back in the vehicles. Follow me.” He turned to leave.

“Wait a minute,” Patterson said. “Where are we going?”

“Just another half mile or so up the road.”

She gestured to the trail. “Isn’t everyone down there?”

Gantrell let out an exhale, again wiping his face with his sleeve. Any harder, and he was going to draw blood.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

“Okay. A wildlife photographer, a guy named Pontowski or Polski, or something like that, he called in the DB. The first one. We met him here. That’s his truck.” He pointed to the Ford F150 without markings on it. “This guy apparently camped nearby, and this morning walked down that trail there to a meadow, where he saw and photographed a bear eating a…a corpse.”

Rachette made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a heave.

“The guy ran back here and gave us a call. And here we are. The bear was gone when he led us out to the spot, but the body was still there. Mangled to all hell.”

“Okay,” Patterson said.

“From the body, you can see a cabin in the trees. We walked to it, you know, to see if everyone was okay. First thing I thought was maybe it had been somebody living there.”

“And?” Patterson asked.

“We found the other body.”

Patterson let out a sigh, nodding. “And this cabin’s up the road.”

“Yes.”

“Got it.”

Rumbling tires approached, pulling their gazes back the way they’d come in.

“Wolf,” Rachette said.

The chief was rolling in at speed in his unmarked, black Interceptor. He slowed and pulled in behind Rachette’s SUV.

“Okay,” she said, turning back to Gantrell. “You lead the way.”

Gantrell nodded, walking up the road to his vehicle, while Patterson and Rachette walked to Wolf.

“What’s happening?” Wolf asked as he rolled down his window.

“We were just about to find out. Follow us.”