Sharon Sala - Don't Cry for Me

“You got something!” Jake said, as his dog strained on the leash.

Quinn paused and then pointed up at a pine tree in front of them. “Look at that.”

Cyrus cursed beneath his breath. Avery just stared. But Jake grunted in shock.

“Hell’s fire, that’s got to be ten, maybe twelve feet up, just like the marks where you found the hiker’s body.”

“There’s more,” Quinn said. “This way.”

All three dogs were straining on their leashes and baying as Quinn reached the creek bank. He stopped, then squatted, pointing out where the earth had been dislodged.

“See this? Looks like something really heavy dislodged this chunk as it stepped down into the creek.”

The men nodded, but in their opinion, it was just more of the same stuff that they’d already seen. The bear had gone into the water. So what?

But then Quinn didn’t cross to the other side of the creek. Instead he began to wade downstream.

“Follow me down a few yards,” he said.

The men walked along the creek bank, paralleling him.

As soon as Quinn got to the rock where the moss had been scratched, he pointed again.

“Look there.”

Jake stepped out into the water with his dog, Zeus. As soon as they reached the middle of the creek where the rock jutted out of the water, Zeus sniffed the moss and bayed.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s bear,” Jake said. “So, did you find where he went out on the other side yet?”

“Now we get to my theory,” Quinn said. “I’ve said from the start that something’s wrong with this animal. It’s either sick or injured. So say I’m right, and say it’s feverish, that means it will be constantly thirsty. You agree?”

Jake nodded. “Makes sense.”

“And it won’t be able to hunt, so it takes the easiest prey it finds, and that happens to be whatever crosses its path, which is how I view the killings so far.”

Jake was still listening. “I don’t disagree. But if it’s so sick and crippled, then why haven’t we found it laid up somewhere? Why do we lose the trail at the water’s edge and not pick it up anywhere on the other side? It doesn’t backtrack, because we’ve already ruled that out. And we’ve found numerous places where it’s spent a day or two, but it never goes back to the same location.”

“Because I think it’s using the water like a highway. There’s that constant thirst, for one thing. And if it’s feverish, or it’s been injured, lying in this cold mountain water at a moment’s notice would soothe the heat and the pain. I think the only time it comes out of the creek is when it hears something that leads it to a kill. That’s why your dogs can’t find another trail on the other side, because the water is the trail. If I’m right, the only chance we have of finding it is to either follow the creek down, or go all the way down to where the creek runs into the river and come up to meet it. And—again, if I’m right—when it kills again, it will be somewhere that’s not far from the creek.”

Jake’s shoulders slumped. What Quinn was saying nullified the chance of the dogs being able to locate the bear.

“This sucks.”

“I agree,” Quinn said.

“We need more men for sure,” Jake said, then eyed the sun through the trees. It was too close to sundown to set this new plan in motion. “And I can get them, but I need to notify your ranger station. What I am saying is we’re not doing this in the dark. Not with this one.”

“I agree,” Quinn said. “So, unless I’m ordered elsewhere, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jake nodded. “Yes, and for the record, that’s one damn good theory.”

Quinn shrugged off the compliment. Knowing the animals and the region was just part of the job.

“I’m headed back down to where I left my truck,” he said.

“We’ll go with you,” Jake said. “I have a lot of phone calls to make and some extra plans to figure out.”

“And in the meantime, we pray to God no one else gets hurt before we find that bear,” Avery added.

* * *

The sun was about to slip behind the peak of Rebel Ridge when Quinn got his first glimpse of home. He could not deny that his anxiety had nothing to do with wet feet and an empty belly. It was all about Mariah. As a grown man, he’d never had anyone to come home to before. It felt good.

Mariah came out onto the deck as he pulled up and parked, then frowned when she saw the expression on his face. She’d seen that look before. It spelled both mental and physical exhaustion.

“You look tired,” she said, as he came up the steps.

“You look good,” he countered, smiling as a blush of pink swept up her neck and across her cheeks.

“Well, that’s a lie, but thank you anyway,” she said.

Quinn stopped at the door and pulled off his hiking boots and socks, then started to strip out of his clothes when it hit him that he couldn’t do that anymore without an audience.

“Um… I usually strip out here and throw my clothes straight in the wash,” he said.

Mariah crossed her arms. “Okay with me.”

His eyes narrowing, he tried to decide if she was kidding or if this was a test. It wasn’t like she’d never seen him naked before.

“It’s your call,” he said, as he shed his shirt and dropped his pants. His thumbs were in the waistband of his briefs when she sighed and walked away.

“Whatever,” he muttered, then picked up the wet, muddy clothes and headed for the utility room.

When he emerged the washer was filling with water and Mariah was outside, walking the deck with a stiff, lopsided stride. He couldn’t decide whether she was pissed or just frustrated. Either way, he could identify. He felt a little bit of both himself.

Determined not to make an issue out of this, he went straight upstairs and into the shower. By the time he came out, the scent of heating meatloaf brought him down the stairs double-time. Mariah was at the sink washing her hands. He walked up behind her.

“Something smells good,” he said.

“Your sister’s cooking. Meatloaf and roasted potatoes. Do you want a salad or a vegetable? I can open a can or chop up some lettuce.”

Quinn put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. I don’t know what made me do that.”

She hesitated. “I do. This whole thing is awkward. We have a history, right?”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s a fact.”

“Only it was nothing but sex, right?”

This time Quinn didn’t answer.

She turned around. “Quinn?”

“I vote for salad.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You asked me if I wanted a vegetable or a salad. I vote for the salad, but if you want, I’ll chop it.”

Mariah sighed. Maybe he was smart to avoid discussing their past. Not when she was like this anyway—crippled in both body and brain.

“Fine. No onions in mine,” she said, and turned away too fast to see the disappointment flash across Quinn’s face.

* * *

The bear had managed to kill a small doe that morning, which had given it a brief burst of strength that had carried it nearly two miles farther down the creek. But the wound in its hip was like a sore tooth—the pain never went away. And it was hungry again. By the time it was dark, the bear had stopped.

As it sat, the water was just deep enough to wash over the infected wound and work a bit of medicinal magic. The cold, swiftly moving water both numbed the pain and flushed the running pus from the still-open flesh.

An owl hooted from a nearby tree.

The bear uttered a soft woof.

The owl took flight.

The bear sniffed the air, sensing a change in the weather.

Clouds were gathering to the southwest. A storm would blow through before morning. Minutes passed as the forest came alive with the creatures of the night.