The crackling gunfire began to sputter out. People turned to look at their leader and the other men lying in the dirt. Women and children began to wail. Without Bechtol to guide them, they bolted and scattered. Men grabbed up children and tugged women toward cars, trucks, and SUVs. But the Alpena police moved in, heading off the inhabitants before they could flee.
Nick walked to where Bechtol lay and kicked the pistol away from the man’s fingers. He picked up the fallen keys, then jogged around to the passenger side and unlocked the door.
Iris’s hands were handcuffed behind her back. “I asked you not to hurt anyone,” she shouted. Her eyes blazed with anger.
“He was going to shoot me!”
Tears hung on her lashes. “I hate killing anything, even animals.” She looked at the weeping children. “There are fatherless children here because of you.”
“Hey, I just saved your bacon. The least you could do is say thanks.”
She gave him another angry glare and stumbled from the van. “Unlock these cuffs,” she demanded.
Nick handed Iris off to an Alpena officer. He moved around to the dead man again and rummaged through his pockets for Bechtol’s ID. His fingers touched paper, and he drew it out. A picture. He stared down into the face of his wife.
8
With June’s arrival, the wildflowers burst out in profusion. Anemones and marsh marigolds blanketed the roadsides. Elena spent as much time out of doors as she could. She felt reborn along with nature.
Bree had been right about the Social Security office. They’d refused to give Elena her number without some kind of identification, so now she was unemployed.
She tried not to think about it as she jogged along the dirt road through the forest, pushing Terri in one of Bree’s old jogging strollers. The morning was a perfect blend of temperature and sunshine. Bree had no trouble keeping up with her, and Samson ran ahead of the two women, then circled back to check on them every few minutes.
“You’re quiet. You’re worried about losing your job, aren’t you?” Bree asked, not even short of breath.
“How am I going to support Terri?” Elena tried to keep her voice even and quiet so she didn’t frighten Terri.
“Elena, you have no choice now. You have to find out more. If you can get your ID, you can have a normal life.”
Everything in Elena recoiled at the thought of signaling her location to the man who attacked her, but she had to be able to work. Her memory wasn’t coming back by itself. She’d remembered only her name and the ballet. Everything else still swam in an impenetrable black fog.
Bree and Kade couldn’t support her forever.
“I don’t have much choice.”
Their feet hit the path in rhythmic unison, raising puffs of dust.
“When we get back, we’ll go to the sheriff’s office. Mason and Hilary are in Finland with Zoe, but we can talk to Deputy Montgomery about it,” Bree said.
Elena nodded, struggling to keep her expression from betraying her dread. But it was time, and she knew it. She couldn’t hide from her past forever.
Elena heard the rumble of vehicles behind them and turned to look. A caravan of cars, trucks, and SUVs drove slowly past. Some of them had words written on the windows.
SAVE THE SWANS. SWANS ARE SACRED. MUTE NO LONGER.
Bree groaned. “Kade was afraid there would be protests today.”
“Is he having trouble with the relocation?” Elena watched until the last vehicle turned onto a lane leading to Reed Lake.
“I think the park service was expecting this and had plenty of rangers ready.”
“Why are they so mad? Kade is just moving the swans, not hurting them.”
“These folks think the mutes have just as much right to the habitat as the trumpeters, even though they aren’t native to this area. But there are just as many people who think they’re dirty and want them killed.” Bree stopped running to pull out her phone. “Montgomery might need to know about it though.”
Elena listened to Bree explain the situation to the deputy. Some of the people in the vehicles were shouting and waving. Elena shifted and looked down at her daughter. Terri needed to be out of this. It might get ugly.
Bree ended the call. “Montgomery is coming out. Let’s get going.”
“I think I should go back,” Elena said. “I don’t want Terri in any danger.”
“The ranger station is between here and the lake. You can stay there while I go on to join Kade.”
Before Elena could answer, a truck zoomed down the road. An engine backfired, then roared louder. The truck barreled toward them, and she could see a man hunched over the wheel. He wore a baseball cap low on his forehead, and she couldn’t make out any details of his features.
The women stepped off the road, and Bree called Samson to her. She entwined her fingers into his collar as the truck approached. “Sit,” she commanded. The dog settled onto his haunches.
With a cloud of dust in its wake, the truck came abreast of them. The man directed a dark glance their way, then his eyes widened. Truck brakes squealed, and the back end of the pickup fishtailed. When the truck came to a stop, the man jumped out and ran toward them.
“What the heck?” Bree whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
She didn’t have to tell Elena twice. The women bolted for the trees. Elena rolled the stroller over the rough ground as fast as she dared.
Samson planted himself between the man and the women and snarled in a way that would stop a charging bear. It worked on the man too. Elena dared a backward glance and saw the dog herding the man away from them.
“It’s me, Will!” the man yelled after them. “Come back, I won’t hurt you!”
Will? The name meant nothing to her. She and Bree plunged on into the woods and out of danger.
THE DEPRESSION THAT HAD SURROUNDED NICK since Bechtol’s death a week ago refused to lift. He’d killed Gideon. Nothing was going to bring Eve back. And now he’d never find Keri.
Nick had about worn out the faded picture of his wife that he’d found in Bechtol’s pocket.
A new case came across his desk, a serial rapist, which normally would have engrossed him in work, but he couldn’t focus on the details of the case. His mother had called repeatedly with supper invitations, but he turned down all of them. The only thing he needed was some space to mourn his family.
At least he’d stopped the monster, shot him dead. Nick should have found satisfaction in that, but vengeance was a cold bedfellow. He’d talked to everyone who knew Bechtol but had turned up no real clue to which geocaching group the man belonged to.
He thrust his chair back from his desk and stood. This morning he’d checked the list of caches in the area and discovered an event at the park this morning at ten. It was a quarter till ten now. He’d just mosey down there and see who showed up. Snatching up a picture of Bechtol, he headed out of the building.
He might as well walk. The day was sunny and warm. Joggers passed him in spandex shorts, and he waved at an acquaintance, then crossed the street when she acted like she was heading his way. The last thing he wanted was another condolence.
Several fathers threw softballs with their children, and Nick had to avert his eyes when a toddler shouted, “Daddy!” and ran to her father. He passed his hand over his stinging lids and walked past quickly.
He found the geocaching group at the flagpole. They were impossible to miss with their GPS units in their hands and the packs they carried on their backs or on their belts. Dressed in jeans and hiking boots, two women and three men stood talking, energized. A cloth bag swung from one woman’s hand. One man consulted a compass.
Nick’s gaze lingered on a familiar face. “Zack, what are you doing in town?” Until he moved to the UP a year ago to expand his lumberyard business, Zack lived down the street from Nick and Eve.
He was a German Baptist dressed in black pants, a white shirt, and a flat-brimmed black hat. Nick guessed him to be about forty-five. Zack’s re
d beard seemed to expand as he greeted Nick with a surprised smile. “Nick, my friend, how pleasant to see you.” He squeezed Nick’s hand in a firm grip. “My manager retired, and I’m down for a few weeks to hire another,” Zack said. “How about you? What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d come learn about this sport. It sounds fun.”
“Ah, yes. I’m quite fond of geocaching and thought I might hook up with old friends today. Let me introduce you.” Nick intended to pick Zack’s brain when the others weren’t around. Maybe he’d seen or heard something in his previous excursions with the group. “This group is the Bay City Searchers,” Zack said. “I was part of their group before I moved north.”
He rattled off the names of the other members so fast, Nick knew he’d never remember them. “Nick Andreakos,” he said, shaking their hands. “Where are we going today?”
A fair-haired man about forty smiled. “I’ve downloaded three caches out near the bay. It will be fun to have a geomuggle with us.”
“Geomuggle?” Nick asked, trying to place where he’d seen the man.
“A newbie,” Zack said, smiling a little. “You can ride with me, Nick,” he offered.
“Thanks.” Nick followed him to his van, a shiny black Chrysler Town & Country. “Who was the fair-headed guy again?”
“That’s Judd Haskell.”
Then it clicked. “He found a body out geocaching, didn’t he?”
“So he told me yesterday. Were you on that case?”
“Yep.” Nick didn’t want to get into it. If Zack didn’t know about Eve, Nick didn’t want to tell him now. “So how does this work?” He climbed into the van and discovered it was much dirtier inside than out. Gum and candy wrappers littered the floor. Big books that looked like research works sat in stacks on the back bucket seats.
Zack glanced around. “I apologize for the mess. The class I’m taking for my master’s requires a lot of study. I’m learning a new language.” He drove out of the lot and headed toward Saginaw Bay. “As Judd said, he downloaded some caches that we thought might be interesting. They’re in the same general area, so we don’t have to spend too much time driving. What we’re going to do first is follow a MapBlast map to the general area.”
“So we’re not using the GPS yet?”
“Not yet.” Zack turned onto the access road to the bay. Glancing at his instructions, he cranked the wheel and drove along the waterway to the parking lot.
“So what’s the draw to this sport anyway?”
Zack grinned. “It’s a treasure hunt, my friend. The search for the unknown, a way to feel like an explorer. People who hide the items find it a way to share their own interests with others.”
“I guess that does sound fun.”
Zack parked. He opened his door and got out.
Nick hopped out too. “Now what?” he asked as the other vehicles parked and the searchers came to join them.
“Now our enjoyment begins.” Zack fiddled with his GPS unit. “It’s this way,” he said, heading off to a stand of trees.
Nick could see the draw of the sport. There was an air of excitement in seeking out the “treasure” and wondering who’d spot it first. He joined in as they tromped around the small stand of white birch. “What are we looking for?”
“We’re uncertain of what it is we seek,” Zack said. “Look for hiding places. The cache is close.”
Nick spied a flash of red in the fork of a tree. “Is this it?” He reached up and grasped a red metal canister.
“You’ve found it!” Zack said, consulting his GPS unit. “Over here, friends.”
The rest of the group gathered around to watch Nick unscrew the lid and draw out the contents: a signed score of Swan Lake, two tickets to a showing of the ballet in New York City, and a DVD of the same ballet.
“Ooh,” the women said in unison. “We can take something if we leave something.”
“I’m game for a trip to New York if you are,” the younger woman said.
“They’re ours,” the redhead agreed. “Did you bring anything to put in it?”
“Yeah.” The brunette pulled out a DVD of Pride and Prejudice.
“Are we supposed to take that?” Nick asked.
“It’s allowed,” Zack said. “You need to sign the guidebook. We’re FTF.”
“FTF?”
“First to find.” Zack said. “Sign your name and write a small paragraph about how you found it.”
“Can’t I just sign my name?” Nick hated reports.
“That will suffice.” Zack chuckled. “I’ll jot down a tad about our experience. I’ll sign our names as well.” He waited until Nick handed him the logbook, then began to write.
Nick looked around while Zack finished up. He could see glimpses of blue through the trees and the white from boat sails. The scent from the bay began to lift his depression. It was good to get outside and try to move on with his life.
Zack gave him the canister to put back in the tree. “The next cache is new also. They both just came up this morning. This way.” He set off away from the water to a deeper part of the treed area.
Flies came to greet them as they pressed deeper into the woods. Nick walked through mayapples and moss. They climbed a wooden stile that was more rotted than good. On the other side, Zack held up his hand and pointed.
“It should be right over there.”
The women dashed for the clearing. A large tree lay across the opening and hid the downward-sloping side of the meadow from view. The redhead reached the tree and stopped.
Nick saw her hands go to her eyes. She began to shriek. Alarms rang in his head as he ran toward her. It was probably a snake or something. Then he saw where she was looking.
A blonde woman lay snuggled up against the fallen oak. Her hands lay on her chest, but they were severed from her body. A peanut butter sandwich was clutched in one hand.
She had no face.
A WISE MAN MUST ALWAYS BE WILLING TO ALTER his course of action as God demanded. Abraham Joshua Heschel said wisdom was the ability to look at all things from the point of view of God.
Gideon began to click on sites, glancing at them and shaking his head, then going to the next one. They proved his belief that the human race was corrupt and evil to the core. He had a ripe field.
He checked his favorite news site and frowned when he found a snippet that said his dear Sophie hadn’t yet been identified. It wasn’t acceptable. Did he have to do everything? Such incompetence.
He moved on. One blog entry caught his attention. The person bragged about going on vacation with a homosexual lover. The picture of the two women, fingers entwined, made his stomach clench. Still, the world had a way of dealing gays their fair share of pain without his assistance. They weren’t his mission.
He started to go on, but then the woman in the photo’s background caught his interest. She stood half hidden by the sweep of bare branches overhanging a bench.
The hair was hers. And the arrogant chin. If only he hadn’t lost his picture. He’d dropped it somewhere at the Mount Sinai camp. Gideon’s gaze scanned the text of the blog. Rock Harbor. He’d never heard of it. Near the Keweenaw. That was a place he did know. The UP was a place of deep spirituality for him, and his group was there.
How ironic that she’d found sanctuary there. He smiled, clicked off the site, and went to find his daughter.
Odette was in the kitchen. She dried her hands and smiled when she saw him. “Hey, Pop, you’re home early.”
Her beauty made his heart ache. So like Miranda had been once. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks. The boys hadn’t been too much of a problem yet, but lately she’d been pressing him to buy more fashionable clothes than the shapeless dresses he made her wear.
He kissed her cheek. “Yes, my dear. I thought I’d spend the evening with you. I have a trip coming up, and I’ll be gone a few weeks.”
“Oh?”
“A job out of state.”
She sighed. “There seem to be
a lot of those lately. Do I have to stay with Gram? I’m seventeen, Pop.”
“Too young to stay alone. I’m going to study a bit,” he told her. “Want to keep me company?”
She nodded, and they went down the hallway into the study. Gideon took down a copy of the Yajurveda.
“You’ve sure got a lot of books,” Odette said, pulling an Italian edition of Dante’s Divine Comedy off a shelf. “I think you’ve got every old book there is. Why do you read so many of these outdated things?” She flipped through some pages, then closed the book, an annoyed pout on her face. “They’re all in other languages too.”
“Most people are content to cling to one belief. Stupid sheep. Truth is everywhere. Don’t ever forget, Odette, that finding truth requires digging, determined study, and an open mind. And you need languages. You learn the truth by reading it in the original. That’s why I’ve always demanded you take a couple of languages, and why I’m always learning a new one.”
“I hate Spanish.”
She had never questioned him before. “Why so many questions, my dear?”
Her gaze went to the floor. “We never talk. You’re always gone.”
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get out of having to stay with your grandmother?”
He knew he’d guessed her motive when a blush graced her cheeks. “Sit,” he said. “It’s time you broadened your education. Do a good job and I might let you stay with your friend Betsy this time—if her parents approve.”
“Really?” Her voice had a glad ring.
He flipped to Kandi I, a passage about the new and full moon sacrifices. The Vedic proverb, “Sacrifice is the navel of the world” was his mantra. Tonight was a new moon.
His gaze fastened on the fourth stanza, verse G. Thou art the oblation-holder that wavers not.
“You look shocked,” his daughter said. “What are you reading? Is that what you want me to study?”
“The Kandi,” he said. “New truth is always shocking.”
“What’s it say?”
“We’re not to waver when we know the right course,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t understand the profundity of his words.