In the Barren Ground Page 14

  Tana closed her notebook, and took in the state of Dean’s room—his unpacked clothes littering the beds, rifle propped against the wall, boxes of ammo, a hunting bow. Paperback novel lying on the end of his bed.

  “You were okay with Selena ‘banging’ Jamie TwoDove?”

  His eyes widened momentarily. Heat burned red across his cheekbones. “Selena’s sex life was not my business.”

  “Yet you raised it.”

  Silence.

  Tana paused, thinking it was irrelevant to the wildlife attack, but, curious, she tested Dean anyway. “What did you feel about Selena’s claims that she was being stalked?”

  He glanced away for a moment. Then said, “She could be imaginative. Liked to see drama where there was none. Attention seeker.”

  Tana nodded, noting the cover of the paperback on his bed—looked like a horror novel—blood on snow, big prints leading into dark woods. It was titled The Hunger.

  “Reading for your trip home?” She tilted her chin toward the book.

  “Not going back right away.”

  “I thought you’d checked out of the motel.”

  Defiance crackled in his eyes, in his posture. “I’m not going to let this beat me. I’m not running home. I’m not due back for classes for another two weeks.”

  “What about Raj’s and Selena’s parents? Veronique said you guys were going to meet them in Edmonton.”

  “Veronique is going. She was closer to both Selena and Raj. I’m packing Raj’s things for her to take. Then I’m going to stay a fortnight with a friend up at Wolverine Falls, do some hunting. And once I’ve completed my doctorate, I’m coming back out here.”

  “As in, to live?”

  “I like it up north. I’d like to make my life here, yes.”

  Tana weighed him for a moment—a guy with issues. Defensive. “So, if I need you, I’ll find you up at Wolverine Falls. Who are you staying with there?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “The fact that you’re reluctant to cooperate inclines me to make it my business.”

  “Guy’s name is Harvey Black Dog.”

  Tana noted the name, thanked Dean, and took her leave. As she came down the stairs and reached her ATV, she whistled for her dogs, who came bounding up through hoarfrosted stalks of deciduous scrub. She donned her helmet, careful not to pull at the stitches and bruising along her cheekbone. Firing up her quad, she made for the trail along the river that would take her to O’Halloran’s place. She needed an official statement from him about the red AeroStar helicopter seen near the attack site on Friday afternoon.

  It was that in-between time when the snow was too sparse for snowmobiles, yet still navigable with an ATV. She’d chosen the four-wheeler this morning so that her dogs could run behind her, and she picked up speed along the water. The morning sun sparkled on ice crystals and painted the river pearlescent pinks and orange. Her dogs chased in her wake, tongues lolling, doggie breath smoking in the cold.

  Now those—thought Tana as ice crystals sparked tiny rainbows everywhere—those were the true gems of the north. Diamonds of weather. Precious and rare as the fleeting rays of the sun. There for all, but no one could own them.

  She gave her machine juice, sliding and bumping and bashing upriver alongside the chuckling water, and glee filled her heart.

  This, baby, this is why we came here … we’re going to get more of this. Open skies, natural jewels, a place where the dogs can run free … we’re going to make this work …

  O’Halloran’s yellow-and-burgundy plane was parked near the hangar.

  Tana drew up outside his house next door to the airstrip, and banged on the door. A sheer in the window shifted. Then the door opened. Tana’s heart took a plunge.

  Mindy. Sleep-mussed. Swollen-looking lips and bleary eyes. She wore an oversize men’s flannel pajama top, nothing else from what Tana could see. And she stank of booze. Christ. Memories slammed through Tana’s brain. Guilt. Shame. Remorse. Rage. It boiled into a complex, fucking black cloud she seemed forever unable to outrun. Even here. How many rides along the river with her dogs would it take until she felt free?

  The kid eyed Tana in silent hostility.

  “Is O’Halloran in?”

  “No.”

  Irritation snapped through her. “Do you know where I can find him?”

  “What do you want him for?”

  “I need to ask him some questions.”

  “About me?”

  “No.”

  The look in Mindy’s eyes was almost disappointment, then they hardened. “He went with that pilot slut he likes to screw, Heather MacAllistair, to Freak Farm. Bet they’re banging away like rabbits right now.”

  Tana’s pulse kicked. She hadn’t seen that coming.

  “What’s ‘Freak Farm’?” she said.

  Mindy rolled her eyes, as if to say, “loser cop.” “That’s what everyone calls the taxidermist place,” she said.

  “Crow TwoDove’s?”

  Mindy shrugged, started to close the door.

  “Wait.” Tana halted the door with a gloved hand. “Mindy, if you ever need to talk—”

  “I sure wouldn’t talk to you.”

  “Look, I’ve been where you are. I know—”

  “You know dickshit!” she said. Tana blinked.

  “I’ll tell you what I do know, Mindy. You’re fourteen—”

  “Fifteen next month.”

  “And you’re living with a man old enough to be your father. And if he’s sleeping with you—”

  “Like I said, you know fuck jackshit. Loser.” She shoved the door closed in Tana’s face.

  Tana stood there, hands fisting at her sides. Her heart pounded. Anger roiled in her blood, heating her cheeks. Anger at so much more than just what was here in front of her now. Choices. Mistakes. People who’d never helped her when they could have. She wanted to bash down that damn door, haul Mindy Koe out of there, take her somewhere safe, get her into a program. Obliterate her own past. She wanted to physically hurt the men who took advantage of women, and children. And in this instant she hated O’Halloran more than she could say. She stomped to her quad where her dogs waited.

  Bastard. You sick-shit bastard. Who in this town have you not screwed? Older meat not fresh enough for you that you must seduce underage teens with booze and God knows what other narcotics you feed the people in this lost and forgotten town … your illegal liquor nearly killed a nine-year-old boy, you bastard …

  She straddled and gunned her machine, riding too fast along the forest road that would take her to Crow TwoDove’s spread, slipping dangerously on ice, adrenaline powering her blood. Her dogs raced to keep up, falling farther and farther behind.

  Several blood-pumping miles later, Tana drew up outside the entrance to TwoDove’s, breathing heavily. She killed her engine, and studied the place as she waited for her hounds to catch up.

  Rough-hewn poles formed a square arch over a long, rutted, snow-covered driveway that led down to a squat log cabin under a listing roof. At the top of the arch, bang in the center, hung the heavy skull of a bison. Beside it on either side wind chimes crafted with what looked like bleached hyoid bones swirled slowly in the ice breeze.

  A covered porch filled with junk skirted the log cabin. At the base of the stairs leading up to the porch, a thin husky-type dog lunged and barked against a rope. Smoke curled from the chimney. No vehicles out front. Off to the right-hand side, on land that led down to the river, several barns and outbuildings canted in varying stages of disrepair along with abandoned-looking trucks and an old tractor.

  Tana used the moment to simmer her anger down. Her temper was an issue—they’d told her that when she’d started training at Depot Division in Saskatchewan to become a Mountie—something she’d need to work on. She forced herself to breathe deep, and to focus on why she was here: to find O’Halloran, ask him about the red chopper. And since she’d come this way, she’d check out where and how Apodaca and Sanjit had
mixed their lure. The attractant likely played a key role in drawing in carnivores, and in leading to the attack. And if Jamie was on-site, she’d tell him that she’d spoken to Viktor, and that they needed to arrange a gathering of the community affected by his actions at the Red Moose.

  The Mindy Koe–O’Halloran issue … she’d find a way to bite into that later.

  Her dogs caught up to her, panting and happy. She dismounted her quad, took their leads from a box on the back. She clipped the leashes to Max’s and Toyon’s collars.

  “You guys need to wait here,” she told her dogs as she secured their leads to her quad. “I don’t want you coming after me, because that mean-looking ol’ husky-wolf down there—this is his place.” Poor bastard. “We don’t want to mess in his sandbox, okay?”

  Dogs secured, Tana walked slowly down the driveway, or what passed for one. The husky yipped and yapped and growled, choking itself against the rope. As she neared the house, the dog fell suddenly silent and slinked under the deck. Awareness prickled down the back of her neck. She slowed, her right hand going instinctively toward her sidearm. She was being watched. Felt it. Tana took in her surroundings carefully. Wraiths of mist sifted up from the river, snaking around the old barn to her right, curling and caressing the derelict, rusting vehicles. A bent willow rocker stood silent near the front door, which was behind a weather screen. Crows beaded the arms of a totem pole that had been constructed to the left of the cabin.

  If this was the place of a great taxidermist, she’d bet her life that the Tchliko Lodge owner never actually brought his clients out here. Tana moved closer, caught sight of a little inukshuk garden in the snow in front of the porch. Her pulse quickened. She told herself it meant nothing. Garden gnomes, northern style. She was being unnaturally jumpy.

  Wind chimes tinkled suddenly, and a gunshot blasted the air. Birds scattered off the roof of the barn, filling the sky like swirling black harpies.

  Tana froze. Her heart thudded.

  A man became distinct from the shadows on the porch. Another shot boomed.

  The slug whirred past her face. Tana sucked in air sharply. Heart racing. Her baby rolled in her stomach—she felt her baby. She swallowed, eyes burning.

  You might be compelled to take a kick, or a bullet, but you’ve got another life to think about …

  Slowly she raised her hands out from her sides.

  “It’s okay,” she yelled. “I mean no harm.”

  The porch creaked. A man with long black hair streaked with gray emerged into her line of vision. He reloaded his shotgun, put stock to shoulder, and aimed the muzzle straight at her heart.

  “Trespassers ain’t welcome here, Constable. Back off nice and slow, and get the fuck off my land.”

  Tana’s face went hot.

  “Just a moment—”

  He fired.

  CHAPTER 19

  Heather’s head snapped up. “Gunshots,” she whispered.

  Crash froze, spanner in hand.

  Another crack. Followed by the sound of crows fluttering and dogs yelping. Crash set down his tools, came quickly out from behind the small chopper. He reached for his rifle propped against the wall of the creaking old structure that Heather rented from Crow TwoDove. She was already at the barn entrance.

  “Shit,” she said, looking out of the door. “It’s old man Crow in a standoff with that Mountie. He’s going to kill her.”

  Crash’s heart gave a small kick, and a sharp spurt of adrenaline flooded his blood. He hated it the instant he felt it—that old, fucking protective surge. That give-a-shit. Irritability bit into his chest as he came up to Heather’s side.

  Tana stood in the snow-covered field in front of Crow’s house. Crow stood on the porch, shotgun aimed at the Mountie. She held both hands out to her sides to show that they were empty.

  What in the hell … what did she want here?

  “Put that gun down, Mr. TwoDove. I just want to talk to you.” She moved closer as she spoke, voice clear, strident.

  “Jamie ain’t got nothing to do with what happened to those biologists!” Crow’s voice carried in the cold air. “White man’s police not welcome on my land. I don’t got to listen to your law. Your badge, uniform mean nothing to me.”

  “Sir, please—”

  “One step closer and I blow a hole right through your belly, feed you to those scavengers.” Up high, two raptors circled, either sensing a kill, or attracted by something else already dead on the property.

  She took another step toward the house.

  Shit.

  Crash stepped out of the barn, loaded rifle in hand. “You’re being an ass, Crow! Give the lady a chance—”

  “Mounties had their chance three years ago. And look what happened—what they did to me, my family. Not on my life am I going to let that shit happen again.”

  “She’s half Dogrib for Chrissakes, if that means anything to you.” Crash marched out into the field, coming between Tana and the old trapper-taxidermist. “She’s northern blood. Like you.”

  Crow had enough Froot Loops short of a cereal bowl that he’d do it—he’d kill the cop. Or Crash would now take the slug, being in the direct line of fire, so what in the hell was he doing this for? But he knew. Deep down, he knew why he was standing here right now between a half-crazy man and a cop. Even though he didn’t want to go there, or articulate it. But if he let Crow kill this woman with an unborn child in her belly, an innocent little thing yet to be screwed over by life, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Not the second time around.

  “She arrested Jamie,” yelled Crow. “She’s here about Jamie and the wolves and those biologists.” He spat into the snow off the deck.

  “I’m not here for Jamie,” Tana called out. “I came for him, Crash O’Halloran. Mindy told me he was here. And I want to see where those biologists mixed their bear lure. Their teammates said they made it here. No blame. Just part of a routine report. It’s not a criminal investigation, okay?”

  Christ, she was taking a step closer. Did she have a fucking death wish?

  “Tana,” he growled, voice low. “Get your ass over here.”

  She ignored him.

  He surged forward, grabbed her by the arm. “Shut the fuck up about the lure,” he hissed. “Let me do the talking.”

  “Get your hands off me.”

  “I swear, he’ll kill you and leave you on his front lawn for those crows.”

  She kept her eyes on TwoDove and his shotgun. He could feel her muscles wire-tight under her jacket sleeve, her body humming. Her energy flowed into him like an electrical current. She was setting him to her frequency, and he fought it, fought to keep his hard-won Zen. His devil-may-care, but he was losing.

  “See, Crow?” Crash yelled. “I’ve got her. Now you go put that gun down, nice and slow. And I’ll take her from here, okay? I’ll take her into the barn. She can ask me whatever she needs. I’ll show her where Selena and Raj made the lure, then I’ll escort her off the property. All on me, okay?”

  Her dogs were going crazy, yelping, barking, and jerking against leashes that had been secured to the ATV she’d parked at the entrance to the farm. Crow’s dog watched from under the deck, at the end of his rope, where the animal had dug itself a den to sleep both winter and summer.

  TwoDove lowered his weapon. Spat again over the deck railing.

  “Come with me,” Crash said, his voice low, mouth close to her ear. “Stay near. And just keep your mouth shut.”

  She shot him a hard look. Her cheeks were pinked. Her dark eyes sparked. He could scent her soap, shampoo. Something trickier, dangerous, braided hot into his already pulsing adrenaline.

  “You need to trust me, Tana,” he said quietly. Her eyes narrowed sharply at his use of her first name. “I don’t want this any more than you do. Just come into the barn. We can talk there.”

  “Wouldn’t trust you if my life depended on it—”

  “It does.”

  Her brow crooked up in interest. “Wha
t’s his problem with the RCMP?”

  “Just walk.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Tana fell grudgingly in step with O’Halloran as he steered her toward the old barn, her dogs still howling and straining against their leads. Her pulse raced. Her mouth was dry. She was shaking. In front of the barn door, snow had been trampled. She saw his truck now, parked around the side, alongside a quad.

  “Crow once worked as a guide and wilderness skills teacher for the Twin Rivers culture camp,” O’Halloran said as they neared the old building. “He was instructing a course in the trapping and the dressing of small game the year a fifteen-year-old student went missing—”

  Tana stopped in her tracks. “Dakota Smithers?”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “Keep moving—barn,” he said. “Crow’s still got his weapon trained on you.” She clenched her jaw, allowing him to manhandle her toward safety. His body was up close against hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath. In this light his eyes were the palest green.

  “A severe snowstorm hampered the search,” he continued. “Dakota was found dead two days later, mauled by animals. Elliot Novak was the cop in town at the time. His own kid had been killed by animals the previous year. He was looking to blame something other than wolves, so he started with Crow. Made it personal.”

  “What do you mean, ‘personal’?”

  They neared the barn entrance. Heather MacAllistair was leaning against the door, watching them approach. She wore a pale blue down jacket, jeans. One boot crossed over the other. Casual. Confident in her own body. Tana thought of what Mindy had said about them being sexual partners.

  “Dakota’s mother, Jennie, told Elliot that Crow used to look at her daughter ‘funny,’ and she claimed Dakota had felt she was being stalked. That gave Elliot all the ammunition he needed to gun for Crow as a sexual pervert of some kind.”

  Tana’s pulse quickened.

  “Other kids then started coming forward at Elliot’s urging, and told him that Crow had looked at them funny, too. Long story short, nothing was proved. No signs of sexual abuse on what was left of Dakota’s body, which wasn’t much. But Crow lost his job and all respect that he might have had in this community. And Elliot was replaced. By that point it was clear he’d long lost the plot. After that, his wife left him, and he went into the bush.”