Bitter Past, page 9
She took a deep breath and thought about an article a colleague had recently written about the benefits of forest bathing. Well, she was doing it, and she had to admit, it felt wonderful. Maybe it was the earthy tang of the air, or the deep quiet, or the ancient majesty of the trees, but this was just what she’d needed after the past stressful weeks.
She could tell Trix loved it too. Her tail wagged compulsively as she strained at the leash. Joelle was tempted to give her some freedom, but if she lost this dog, her sister and the twins would never forgive her. So on leash Trix remained.
After about a half a mile they came to the fork Myrtle had mentioned. A massive cedar stood at the apex, a wooden sign nailed to the trunk at eye level, with an arrow pointing left to Fern Lake Trail. That was the hike Myrtle had recommended. There was also a faint trail to the right, but it was so sketchy Joelle doubted if anyone had walked it in years.
She was tempted to carry on to Fern Lake, but they’d had a late start, and she needed to get ready for the book club meeting. When she tried to turn back for home, though, Trix fought her, straining at her lead. Not to go left, toward the lake, but in the other direction on the sketchy path.
“Sorry, girl, we are definitely not going that way.” Joelle gently guided Trix away back onto the trail and eventually Trix resigned herself to the plan. They were almost at the cottage door when a vehicle pulled into Myrtle’s driveway. It was Shawn in his white US Forest Service truck. She paused when he waved at her.
“Hey there,” he called out as he exited the cab.
“Hi.”
“I’m here to fix the garden fence. Mom says a deer got in last night and had a midnight snack on some of her greens.”
“Yes. It was over there.” Joelle pointed to the downed section of the fence.
“Thanks.” He nodded, then went to the back of his truck to grab his tools.
Back in the cottage Joelle pulled out the articles she’d copied from the Lost Trail Courier archives that morning. She compared the information to the articles in Brent’s file and was disappointed not to learn anything new. Setting those papers aside, she studied the old photos again. She’d now met everyone except for Wyatt’s mother, Vera. It was progress but she had to find a way to dig deeper with these people.
She fed Trix, then minding Myrtle’s advice not to eat too much, put together a small plate of crackers, cheese, and sliced apple. She took it, along with a glass of water, to the front porch.
Trix, fast asleep on her favorite chair after scarfing her food, didn’t show the least interest in joining her outside. Their walk must have succeeded in tiring her out.
The porch faced west, away from Myrtle’s house and toward the forest, so Joelle couldn’t see Shawn or watch his progress with the fence. She knew he was still there, though, because she could hear occasional banging and hammering sounds.
She took a deep breath and tried to let the tension in her shoulders and upper back seep away. Every now and then a tiny bird would dart from one branch to another, amid calls of “so sweet” and shorter twitching noises.
She was wondering what they were finding to eat in that thick, dark forest when suddenly a much larger gray bird, with a patch of white on his face and neck, swooped out of the forest and landed on the grass, near the porch. He cocked his head and seemed to be looking right at her with his dark round eyes. After a few seconds he hopped closer, and Joelle realized he was eyeing her crackers and cheese.
She broke one of the Wheat Thins in half and tossed a piece to him.
The bird snatched it up and then looked for more.
“Those whiskey jacks can be real pesky if you start feeding them.”
It was Shawn, who’d just come round the corner of the cabin.
“Whiskey jack? Is that what they’re called?”
“They have other names too. Canada jay, gray jay, camp robber. Officially they are Perisoreus canadensis. If you’re into Latin.”
“Not so much. But thanks for the information. I guess I won’t feed him anymore. Though he is awfully cute.”
“Aw, go ahead and feed him if you want. They’re pretty smart birds.”
Joelle tossed another piece of cracker. “I saw your trail cam photo in the paper today. That was a pretty scary-looking grizzly.”
Shawn looked pleased. “Yeah, Cocker loved that one. A lot more than the beaver photo I gave him last week.”
“Do you publish a different photo every week?”
“Since Cocker came up with the idea, about three years ago.”
“Are you always able to provide a new picture every week?”
“Usually. We have a lot of trail cams in our national forests. They’re incredibly useful for providing data and estimating population numbers of wildlife. We don’t snag a great photo of a giant grizzly every week. But readers seem to enjoy even a photo of a cute squirrel.”
Noticing he looked hot and tired, Joelle offered him a drink. “I’ve only got water, seltzer, or white wine.”
“Plain water is good.”
When she came out with a tall glass, she found him inspecting the porch steps.
“Mom said one of these boards is starting to rot and I think she’s right.” He wiggled the bottom step, and Joelle could see several long cracks in the wood as well as some crumbling at one corner of the plank. “I’ll pick up a new board and replace this for you. Don’t want you breaking an ankle while you’re here.”
“Thanks.” She handed him the glass and asked if he wanted to sit for a bit. He took the second wicker chair, so close to hers that once they were both seated their knees were only inches apart.
“So how are you settling in?” he asked. “It’s pretty remote out here.”
“I like it so far. Trix and I went on a small hike this afternoon. I just hope we don’t run into any grizzly mommas with cubs.”
“You probably won’t, not as long as you make lots of noise and let them know you’re coming. And even if you do see one—I’ve encountered more than a few myself—chances are they’ll leave you be.”
Joelle had seen a few bears when she’d been out mountain biking, but always at a distance. “Have you ever needed to use your bear spray?”
He shook his head. “You want to know how people die out here? They die in traffic accidents and shooting mishaps. They die of disease, and drowning, and old age. They do not die of bear attacks. Not very damn often anyway.”
“That’s reassuring, especially coming from a wildlife biologist. I suppose you spend a lot of time out in the forest doing surveys and stuff?”
“In the early years of my career I did primarily fieldwork. Now not so much.”
“If you’re not in the field, what’s your workday like?”
“I mostly manage my teams, analyze data, and write reports and articles. But I do like to go out and check some trail cams at least once a week.”
“Which do you like better? Being in the office or out in the field?”
“I still like to get my hands dirty with fieldwork when I can. Honestly, it’s the best part of the job.” He slanted a glance her way. “You do like your questions, don’t you?”
“Hey, I’m a journalist. It’s a hard habit to break.” And she hadn’t lost sight of her ultimate goal: to get him talking about the summer of 2009. “Did you always know you wanted to be a biologist?”
“Pretty much. Mom says I was born a science geek. When I was growing up, I was always out exploring, bringing back wounded animals and birds. Biology seemed the perfect fit.”
“I was more of a liberal arts student, got my degree at UMT. How about you? Where did you go to college?”
“Seattle for my undergrad. Colorado for my master’s. Did you work for the Flathead Journal right out of college?”
Joelle offered him the plate of crackers and cheese. She was trying to give the appearance of being relaxed and casual, while planning out her responses like chess moves, slowly inching toward her goal. It was skill she’d honed from years at this job. “I was lucky and got a summer internship with them. Sort of like you and the Forest Service.”
“Yeah, that was a good break. After eight months in the classroom I loved getting outside for some fieldwork. I don’t think your brother-in-law liked the job much though.”
Joelle was pleased he’d advanced their conversation in the right direction without any prodding. “No?”
“As I recall, Lost Trail was a little quiet for Brent’s taste.”
“Did you keep in touch at all after that summer?”
“Nah.” He hesitated, then said, “Brent was dating Amanda that summer. She was really into him. But when the job ended, he made it clear she had just been a summer fling. I guess we all felt a little pissed off at him for hurting her. Amanda’s a real sweetheart.”
“I met her this afternoon at the library. We talked a bit about Brent and the party you all had the last night you were together.”
Suddenly the animation and warmth drained from his eyes. “That was a bad night.”
“Do you think—”
“I should get going.” Shawn rose from his chair, carefully placing his glass on the porch railing. Once he was back on the lawn, he turned back to her. “My mom doesn’t rent out this cottage often. When she does, it’s often to someone who’s in trouble or going through a rough patch. I call them my mother’s lost causes.”
“Oh?” Is that how he saw her? A lost cause? Or someone in trouble?
“For instance, the last woman who lived here was hiding from an abusive boyfriend. He ended up tracking her here and almost shot both of them—my mom and the woman.”
Joelle stared at him, shocked by the story. “How horrible. What happened? Obviously, your mom was okay.”
“Luckily, Mom was able to talk him down, so no one was hurt. She has a special gift with people. But I worry about her. One day she’s going to end up helping the wrong person.”
The mistrustful look in his eyes completed the message he was giving her. He was worried that she might be the wrong person. And she realized with a start that he might be absolutely right about that.
Chapter Seven
Amanda knew Joelle Medler was staying at the guest cabin on Myrtle Ward’s property, but she hadn’t counted on the journalist being invited to book club. If she had, she would have invented a reason to stay at home. Not that inventing excuses was required. There was always so much to do. If not with the livestock, then in the garden, or the house.
Homelife was so stressful these days. She felt like Wyatt was always watching her, waiting for one little misstep. And Candace had become strangely quiet and withdrawn. Amanda was really worried about her normally talkative and cheerful daughter. Only Bruce behaved as normal, seemingly impervious to the emotional undercurrents around him.
From her seat on the outdoor sectional on Myrtle’s deck, Amanda watched as Joelle approached from the cabin. She looked effortlessly pretty in a long denim skirt and simple white T-shirt. Most of all Amanda admired her confidence. Where did that come from? Was it innate or could it be developed?
Myrtle had noticed her new guest too, and she got up to welcome Joelle and make introductions. Everyone was already seated around a low table where Myrtle had arranged cut flowers and a cheese and fruit board, as well as some bottles of wine and sparkling water, resting in a bowl of ice. With its profusion of potted flowers, strategically placed candles, and overhanging patio lights, the outdoor setting was Instagram perfect.
“You already know our town librarian, Amanda Cocker, and Jessica Hardy from the Courier,” Myrtle was saying.
Amanda gave a feeble wave while Jessica said, “Good to see you again, Joelle. I’d like you to meet my daughter, Cassidy. She’s a town commissioner,” she added proudly.
“Welcome to Lost Trail,” Cassidy said. She was about ten years older than Amanda, very businesslike with a forthright personality. Cassidy tended to either love or dislike the books they read. There was very little in between.
“Next to Cassidy is Vera Cocker. Vera’s the head of the Huckleberry Festival Committee. She’s been so busy I’m surprised she had time to read the book this month.”
“It comes down to proper time management,” Vera asserted. Amanda’s mother-in-law, whom Amanda had always found intimidating, was dressed elegantly as usual, in white linen pants and a silk tank top. No one seeing her here would guess she was a hands-on cattle rancher, who hunted and fished with the best of them.
“And over here we have Tiff and her mother, Rosemary Masterson. They own the Christmas tree farm you would have seen when you drove into town.”
As Tiff rose to shake Jo’s hand, Amanda admired how well she was looking, despite her late-stage pregnancy. In fact Amanda couldn’t remember Tiff or her mother looking quite this happy before. She was glad things had turned around for the family. They’d sure gone through their share of dark times.
“And finally,” Myrtle continued, “I’d like you to meet Nadine Black, one of our local deputies.”
Amanda had been a big fan of Nadine’s back in the days when she’d been a barrel racer. Now the athletic and very capable woman seemed to have settled into her new life in Lost Trail.
“Nadine is married to Zak, who you met last night at dinner,” Myrtle continued. “Their son, Jett, is sleeping in a cot in the family room, so if you need to go inside to use the facilities, try to be quiet.”
“Zak had to work late, and I couldn’t get a sitter.” Nadine shrugged. “Anyway, Joelle and I have already had the pleasure.”
Really? Amanda looked from Nadine to Joelle, hoping to hear more of the story. But Myrtle started pouring beverages and for the next forty-five minutes conversation was focused on the book, on the main character, Frankie—a combat nurse during the Vietnam War—and the way she was treated and the choices she made when she returned home after the war. Amanda noticed the younger women were more sympathetic to Frankie’s plight than the older women. She offered her opinions but mostly listened to the others and tried not to be self-conscious whenever she noticed Joelle looking her way.
Eventually talk turned to the Huckleberry Festival and Vera took the floor.
“Things are well in hand,” she told the ladies. “But we could use some strong, able-bodied men to help with setup on Friday afternoon.”
“You may have trouble finding those bodies,” Nadine said. “Zak had to mobilize search and rescue this afternoon. A solo CDT hiker coming from Anaconda failed to show up at Chief Joseph Pass on the expected date. A lot of our able-bodied men and women will be out looking for her.”
“I didn’t hear about this,” Myrtle said, sounding anxious.
“Do you know the hiker’s name?” Joelle hadn’t seemed very engaged in the book discussion, but suddenly she was on the edge of her seat.
“Jamie Brooks,” Nadine said.
“Did you say Brooks?” Joelle asked.
Amanda felt her face grow hot. She’d noticed the coincidence too. If indeed it was a coincidence. Was Brooks a very common name?
“Yes, Brooks. She’s twenty years old and apparently not a very experienced hiker,” Nadine continued. “She shouldn’t have been out there on her own.”
“I met her boyfriend, Matt Gallagher, at the Snowdrift Café yesterday,” Joelle said. “He was waiting for her to call him for a lift when she reached the pass. Poor guy. He must be beside himself.”
“He should be ashamed,” Vera said tartly. “Why did he let her go out there on her own?”
Myrtle gave Amanda’s mother-in-law a mildly admonishing look. “Jamie’s an adult. It’s not up to her boyfriend, or anyone else, to tell her what to do.”
“I admire that young woman’s courage tackling the CDT on her own,” Jessica said. “But I must agree with Vera—if she wasn’t experienced, going alone wasn’t very sensible.”
“Mom, don’t be sexist,” Cassidy countered. “Would you say that if Jamie was a guy?”
“I don’t think men should hike it alone, either, if they’re not prepared,” Nadine said. “They get into trouble and then expect the local authorities to bail them out.”
“To be fair, the vast majority of hikers don’t require any assistance,” Cassidy said. “But Nadine is right, our resources are stretched thin, especially during fire season. So far, we’ve been lucky this summer, but we’re in for a few weeks of hot, dry weather, and we all know what that could mean.”
Forest fires were becoming a too-constant danger in Montana. Out on the Flint Creek ranch, where her family were surrounded on three sides by the vast forests, Amanda felt especially vulnerable.
“What resources have been mobilized to find Jamie?” Joelle wondered.
“We’ve got search teams out with dogs from both Lost Trail and Anaconda,” Nadine replied. “And also this evening Two Bear Air Rescue will be flying with infrared heat sensors. If she’s still up there, we’ll find her.”
Amanda thought about the female body she and the guys had seen on that ill-fated summer night so long ago. That woman had been dressed in shorts and hiking boots. Had she been a through-hiker too? Noticing Joelle watching her, Amanda took a deep breath. Stop stressing. Joelle might be a trained journalist, but even she couldn’t read minds.
“I hope you’re right and they find her tonight,” Myrtle said. “Her family must be so worried.”
“Her dad is booked to fly into Missoula tomorrow morning,” Nadine said. “The boyfriend is going to pick him up. Hopefully by the time they get back to Lost Trail we’ll have good news waiting for them.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Nadine.” Myrtle got to her feet. “Would anyone like a coffee before heading home? I can make decaf.”
“I’m afraid I’m done in,” Jessica said to her daughter. “Would you mind if we left early?”
