Mountain Fire Read online

  Chapter Two

  The sky was a blanket pricked with stars, cuddling the curve of the watery moon, like a mother with her baby in the crook of an arm. It was easy to pick out the constellation all Canadian children learn first, the edge of its ladle pointing the way to the North Star.

  The door below shut with a muffled thud, then she heard steady footsteps mounting the ladder. A voice at her ear said, “Amazing, isn’t it.”

  Without turning her head, she smiled. “Easy to forget how many stars there are, when you spend too much time in the city.” He stood at her side, his shoulder brushing hers, silently gazing at the cosmos. “Makes me wonder about those people who won’t even discuss the possibility of intelligent life out there.”

  He rested on his palms against the window sill, and glanced sideways at her. “You must admit, it’s a very uncomfortable concept. Especially if they find us first.”

  “I guess that’s one way to think of it. Me, I wonder what they might be like.”

  He turned to her. For a moment the romance of the scene filled her senses: a man, a woman, as alone as Adam and Eve. The scent of pine trees and wildflowers. No sound but the wind. It was not a smart way to feel about a man she’d met scant hours before, even if he did seem safe and sexy and sane. She broke the look and moved away, resting a shoulder against one of the corner posts. A small oblong of light from the lantern in the room below escaped out the window and lay on the ground. Serrated tops of trees were a lighter darkness against the obsidian of the sky. The helicopter cast a metallic gleam as it slept under the moonshine.

  She heard a rustle, and turned to see Alex with one foot on the top step of the ladder. “Any more coffee?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I don’t have a mug for you, though.”

  “Brought my own.” He disappeared gracefully through the opening.

  She stayed where she was a little longer, absently tracing the grain in the wood of the window frame with a fingertip. Then she, too, returned to the room below.

  He stood with his hips against the counter, cupping a mug in his hands. She lifted the chair she’d put near the stove, carried it across the room, and slid it back underneath the table, then rubbed its chipped, painted shoulders.

  He drained his cup, and placed it on the counter. “I figured I’d spread my bag upstairs.”

  “You’re more than welcome to the floor down here if you like.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s all set to be a beautiful night.”

  “It’s up to you.”

  An awkward silence drooped over them, as if, like her, Alex wasn’t sure how to say goodnight. He grabbed his pack-sack. “Guess I’ll head up then. See you in the morning.”

  “Sleep well.”

  He climbed the treads, reached down, and lifted the door until it clicked into place. His footsteps shuffled quietly for a few minutes, and then all was still.

  She snapped off the lantern, leaving the room bathed in pale moonlight. She slipped off her socks, boots and shorts, then slid into her sleeping bag. Crossing her arms behind her head, she relaxed into the snug flannel. The lunar glow flowed through the window near her bed, and she lay awake, enjoying the deep peace. Then, softly, gently, the breathing of the night wind lulled her imperceptibly to sleep.

  ****

  Alex woke early the next morning. His nose was frosty and the air was damp, but the dawn sunlight fell on his cheek with a hint of the heat to come. Last winter, they’d had below average snowfall, and spring had been warmer than normal. Buzz in the office was the forest fire season was going to be frantic.

  He certainly hadn’t expected to see anyone else on top of the mountain when he’d headed out the day before, but he wasn’t bothered by the company. June Brandt’s calm and confident air appealed to him, and she seemed well-prepared for a few days away from civilization. He’d been involved in too many search and rescue operations to be lenient toward anyone who didn’t take the wilderness seriously. He was glad she wasn’t one of those.

  During the minutes they’d spent contemplating the night sky he’d been caught unaware by the possibilities swirling in the air between them, and had decided retreat was the better part of valour. He was here to do a job, quickly and efficiently. That didn’t stop him from remembering her profile, edged with moonlight: nose a hint too long, sharp chin. Scandinavian, maybe German, heritage, he speculated, especially with all that gorgeous fair hair.

  Conscious of June directly beneath him, he rolled up his sleeping mat and bag, raised the trapdoor, and stepped noiselessly down into the room below.

  She slept on, peaceful and innocent, curled up on her side with a hand beneath her cheek, bright blond hair scattered about. She breathed deep and even as he slipped past her and out the door to take care of the morning’s necessary business, and was still sleeping when he returned.

  He did his best to move silently, but couldn’t avoid the occasional creak of wood on wood, a mildly reverberating clang as he pulled off the lid of the coffee pot, the snick of a cupboard door opening and closing. June shifted restlessly, long legs twisting in the red and blue sleeping bag. Her eyes opened slowly, a frown creasing her forehead.

  “Morning,” she said, voice clogged and rough.

  “Morning. I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you, but...” he gestured with the coffee pot, “...the only thing that makes the dawn worthwhile.”

  “Dawn?” She sat up and wrapped the sleeping bag around her waist, yawning. “What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty.”

  She groaned. “Nothing like sleeping in when you’re on holiday.”

  “Ah, but I’m not. I want to find that carcass today. It’s already been almost a week since the hikers saw it.”

  Flipping back the sleeping bag, she slid her legs out. Alex caught a glimpse of strong calves and slim thighs as she snagged her shorts from the floor beside the bed, and in one swift motion pulled them on while getting to her feet. She turned to face him, smoothing her hands down the front of her T-shirt as if trying to iron out the wrinkles.

  “Will you make enough for me?” She pointed to the coffeepot.

  “Already did.”

  “Be right back, then.” Plucking a plastic zip-lock bag from her pack-sack, she headed out the door.

  She returned with her hair twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and her face shiny from a cold water wash. A grumpy pout still teased the corners of her mouth. Alex hid a grin as she walked by.

  “How do you plan on finding the bear?” she asked as she tucked her bathroom bag away and tidied up her bed.

  He poured steaming coffee from the metal pot into two mugs. “I’ll follow the directions from those hikers as best I can, and keep my eyes peeled. I should be able to spot ravens or eagles scavenging.”

  He handed her a mug, and she took a cautious sip. “What’ll you do if you find it?”

  He pointed to his pack, next to the door, ready to go. “I’ve got an evidence kit in there: bags, tags, camera. I’ll get as much information as I can from the site. Anything might lead us to the people responsible.” He ripped open a high-energy protein bar and took a bite. “What are your plans for the day?”

  June opened a bag of granola and began to munch. “Footloose and fancy free.” She eased onto one of the derelict chairs, propping one foot on the other.

  “How well do you know this area?”

  “Pretty well.” She made a back and forth motion with her hand. “I have an aunt and uncle with a cabin down below, and we used to hike up once in a while when we came to visit. I haven’t been here by myself for a couple of years, though.”

  Any woman assured enough to spend time alone on a remote mountaintop was obviously resourceful and intrepid. Alex found his interest in June growing. He remembered her nonchalant attitude as she told of her encounter with the grizzly, and offered up a challenge. “I could use the extra pair of eyes, if you want to head out with me.”

  She didn’t jump at the chance, but considered
it as she chewed. “Sure. Why not?”

  They cleared away the breakfast remnants and closed the cabin door, blocking it shut to keep out pests. Alex set a brisk pace as they trudged down the north side of Longworth Mountain.

  “The callers said they’d hiked about an hour from the lookout before they discovered the carcass,” he said. “It was in a narrow crevasse off to the left of the trail. They didn’t examine it too closely, as they’d just noticed the time, and realized they’d have to hurry if they were going to get back down before dark.” He hitched his pack into a more comfortable position on his shoulders. “We’ll have to keep our eyes open.”

  On this side of the mountain, it was easy to believe they were the only people for thousands of kilometres. The ever-present breeze sang through the grasses, underscoring the intermittent melody of bird calls, a subtle chorus to the crunch of boots on rocks and the rustle of swinging arms. The track descended at a shallow angle, with the occasional steep section, dodging around large boulders and switching back on itself. They concentrated on the job at hand and there was little chatter. He was pleased June kept up easily, and after about forty-five minutes they were deep in the wide valley. A brilliant sun beamed down on them.

  Alex halted, slung his backpack to the ground, unclipped a water bottle and took a long drink. “We should be getting close.”

  She copied his actions, perching on a rock. “Look.”

  He followed her gaze further down the valley. Three or four black figures flapped lazily against the polished sky, and a rusty, raucous calling drifted on the increasingly heated air. “Good eye,” he said. “Ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  The trail was relatively straight and level, and it wasn’t long before the fresh scent of wildflowers, dust and leaves was tainted with the stench of death. A low, growling buzz raised the hair on Alex’s neck. He glanced over his shoulder and gestured for June to stay back. She stopped obediently and waited while he stepped toward a cleft in the rock to their left.

  He peered in the opening, covering his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow. The stink was incredible, but the insects were worse. The grizzly’s carcass was covered in a moving sheet of glossy black flies, thousands upon thousands of them. Hundreds more hung like fog. Soon they were swarming around him, drawn by salty sweat. He backed away from the opening.

  He lowered his arm. “It’s going to be ugly,” he said. “But if you can stand it, I could certainly use your help.”

  She moved forward and looked around him into the narrow space. She sucked in a breath, making a slight choking sound when the full force of the decomposing body struck her, but she stood her ground.

  She turned to him, her face pale under the light tan of early summer, but she regarded him steadily, her voice matter of fact. “What do we do now?”

  He pulled out a small digital camera. “Get some pictures,” he said. “First, with the flies.” He snapped a few shots of the fissure’s entrance, then advanced in, getting various angles. He called back to her, “Let’s see what we can do about those flies now. Cut me a couple switches, would you?”

  She dug a small blade from one of the many pockets on her shorts, and hacked off a few of the leafiest branches from a nearby willow. Then, armed with those, they headed back into the rocky cleft.

  It was a buzzing, foul-smelling hell. Flies shrouded them, blundering drunkenly like tiny, black hailstones. After a few minutes of determined flailing, the worst of the insects were gone, and they could see what remained of the bear.

  The glossy dark brown fur had dulled and dimmed in death. The head was missing, leaving a gory stump on which a few persistent flies still gorged. All four paws had been roughly amputated. And it had been disemboweled.

  “If you can stand staying with me, keep moving those branches.” He handed her the ones he had used. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  While she waved the willow boughs to keep most of the flies from returning, he took more pictures. Then he slipped on thin, latex gloves and searched meticulously around the carcass, including the pile of entrails. Despite June’s efforts, dozens of insects droned about them, irresistibly drawn to the carnage. The tiny beasts crawled in his hair, on the back of his neck, up the cuffs of his sleeves, but he ignored them and calmly continued his inspection.

  His search spread in ever widening circles, until he finally nodded and motioned to the opening. June backed out, relief evident on her face.

  He stripped off the bloody gloves. “Thanks.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, scattering flies.

  She swished off a few insects lingering on his shoulders and back. “Are they usually this bad?” she asked as they retreated farther away from the crevasse.

  “The flies? It depends when you find the body, and where. It didn’t help, tucking the carcass into that narrow space.”

  “Tucking it? You mean the bear wasn’t shot there?”

  “Dirt was piled up against the shoulders, as if it had been pushed or pulled in. Which means more than one poacher for sure. There’s no way a single person shifted that bear. It had to be close to three hundred pounds.”

  “Did you find anything else?”

  “You saw the obvious bits. And the gall bladder was missing. Other than that, not a damn thing.” He paused in rearranging his equipment and sat back on his heels.

  “Will you catch them?”

  “It’s not very likely.” He puffed out a breath. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference, but the nearly one week delay in getting to the kill site frustrated him. “Not from any evidence here.”

  Now they were at a distance from the remains of the bear, fresh, alive scents like warm dust and peppery wildflowers filled the air. A movement on the far side of the valley caught his eye—a rabbit, hopping out from under a bush to nibble on succulent new grass. As soon as it came to rest, he lost sight of it, expertly camouflaged in its mottled brown coat.

  “Is it really worth it?” she wondered. “For the poachers, I mean? Or is it just for the thrill?”

  He laughed shortly. “Worth it? Almost no risk, and extremely high returns. Do you know why they take the gallbladder?”

  “It’s used in traditional Chinese medicine.”

  “They believe bear bile is a cure-all. It’s been used for thousands of years. And do you know how much buyers will pay?”

  She shook her head.

  “Each gall bladder can net a poacher up to ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand! Per gram, that’s more lucrative than cocaine. The paws are used for soup. It’s supposed to cure respiratory and gastrointestinal problems. In Asian restaurants in the US, you can buy a bowl of bear paw soup for about sixty dollars. Overseas, a bowl can cost as much as one thousand dollars US.”

  She stared at him. “I knew bear parts were valuable, but I had no idea that much money was involved.”

  “Most people don’t. Poaching rarely makes the big city newscasts, and even when we do manage to catch someone, the fines are so small they don’t even warrant coverage. It is possible for poachers to be sentenced jail time, but…” His shoulders jerked. “Canada has the largest wild black bear population remaining in the world. China has topped one billion people, and that doesn’t include the rest of the Asian world, where traditional Chinese medicine is just as popular. You figure it out.” He stood abruptly, slipped his arms through the straps of his pack and jiggled it into position. “We should head back. Ready?”

  She tilted her head, eyes thoughtful, and they began their return.

  They were scrambling up a particularly steep section of the path when the shot rang out. Alex, a few feet below June on the slope, snagged her wrist and yanked her to the ground. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  Another shot boomed through the still, mountain air. She pointed to a bright flash on the opposite side of the valley. “There. Close to that big crack in the far wall.” The glint of sunlight reflected off a recoiling rifle barrel.

  “Stay here,”
Alex said, then was off, racing down the slope.

  Chapter Three

  He heard footsteps and risked a glance behind. June hustled after him, a determined look on her face. He opened his mouth to shout at her to get back, but she yelled, “Don’t even bother,” as she dodged a low thicket.

  They dashed across the valley floor, weaving around boulders and brush shoulder to shoulder. The fissure in the mountain wall grew as they neared it. Dropping to a walk, he scanned the wall, checking left and right. “Nothing. Maybe he went in.” He forged into the gully. The floor was strewn with large rocks, hummocks of grass, and small, wiry shrubs, and barely wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side.

  “What are we doing?” she hissed.

  “Seeing what we can see.” He kept moving, picking his way carefully forward.

  “There’s no one here.”

  “Keep searching. There can’t be too many places to hide.”

  They followed the ravine deep into the mountain, until the sky was a bright blue gash in the air high above them and they reached a vertical wall a mountain goat would have trouble scaling.

  Nothing.

  She slung off her pack, slumped against the rock wall and slid to the ground. Sweat beaded her forehead and ran from her temples. He followed suit, feeling the dampness of his own shirt against his back as he leaned against the sun-heated stone.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess whoever it was didn’t come in here.” She took a long drink from her bottle, the muscles in her slender throat flexing.

  “It was only a chance. And a slim one at that.” His own water was stale and tasteless, but a welcome relief. “Chasing them was probably a lost cause, but we might have caught them if they ducked in here. Maybe they knew it was a dead end.”

  He dribbled a small amount of water over his head, letting it run down the back of his neck, then poured the tepid liquid into June’s cupped hands. She splashed her face and used the hem of her T-shirt as a towel. He caught a glimpse of flat stomach muscles and a small, round dark mole beside her navel. Relaxing back, he gazed up into the narrow slice of cloudless sky framed above the gully’s edge.