Bear Bait (9781101611548) (36 page)

“In Psalms, it says, ‘The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.’ And God says, ‘every animal of the forest is mine…I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine…the world is mine, and all that is in it.’”

He looked up at the congregation. “Sounds to me like God has staked a claim to wildlife, doesn’t it?”

A murmur ran around the sanctuary. Sam waited for a Biblical verse that could be interpreted as divine permission to flatten opossums with shovels.

“What, then, are we to make of this next passage from Genesis? ‘God said to them, be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.’ And another from Psalms: ‘You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet: all flocks and herds, and the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.’”

“‘Under his feet,’” he reiterated, “meaning under humanity’s feet. So,
we
are the rulers over the creatures of the Earth.”

Sam cringed inside. She’d often been accused of caring more about animals than people, and for the most part, that was true.

“We have the power of life and death over all other living things on this planet. But why did God create all this beauty and entrust it to our care? Did He want us to use it only for our own benefit?”

Reverend Mark Westin knew how to use silence. He paused a long minute to let the audience ponder the question. Sam was surprised at the direction the sermon was taking. She’d grown up among a lot of farmers who thought uncultivated land was wasted land and all wild animals were varmints.

“In Revelation, there is a promise of destruction for those who destroy the earth. We would do well to remember that promise.”

“We live in a wondrous universe, on a beautiful planet. Let us not forget that as well as flowers and trees and fruit and human beings, God created hummingbirds and grizzly bears and wolves and blue whales…”

And opossums, Sam added in her head.

“And God called all His living creatures ‘good.’ God gave us the gift of love. So let us celebrate His works by appreciating the beauty and the worth of the living world around us; by loving and caring for each other and loving and caring for all His creations, each and every day. Let us pray.”

As her father raised his head after the short prayer, he caught Sam’s gaze, and they exchanged a smile. The sermon was his gift to her. “And now,” he said, “let’s have that loving wedding so we can start caring for some of Stephanie Faber’s incredible fried chicken.”

The congregation laughed and clapped as Mark Westin gestured for his colleague to take his place and stepped down from the pulpit. He pulled off his robe, revealing a
white tuxedo, and took his place on the right side of the aisle, gesturing for his close friend Gavin to stand beside him as best man.

Sam stood up. “Break a leg,” Chase whispered.

She grimaced. “Gee, thanks. I probably will.”

“You look wonderful. And the shoes are perfect.”

She made a face at him, then walked quickly up the side aisle to the back of the church. Peeking through the sanctuary doorway, she saw Zola, in a lovely ivory linen suit, waiting in the reception hall, flanked by her twin daughters, Jane and Julie, who wore dresses identical to Sam’s turquoise sheath, except that Jane’s was a shade lighter, and Julie’s paler still.

Jane handed Sam her small bouquet of yellow and white roses.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

All three nodded. She centered herself in the doorway, took a deep breath, and signaled the organist to begin.

As she slow-stepped down the aisle in time to the music, Sam felt like a trick pony in a show. Why did people do this to themselves? She felt a slick of self-conscious perspiration forming between her skin and the dress. She raised her chin and focused on her father waiting up front, but she could feel the burning gaze of the entire community assessing her.

How was she going to give a speech in front of hundreds of people? Or would it be thousands? Would she know that she was safe by then, or would she be waiting to see the glint of a weapon in the audience? By the time she reached the front of the church, she was wondering where she could score some Valium before Friday. She turned to watch Julie and Jane and Zola finish their march.

The ceremony was simple but heartfelt, statements of love by people who’d known each other for decades. Sam’s mother had died twenty-eight years ago. Her father had known Zola forever, along with her husband, Bill, who had died seven years ago. Mark Westin had waited a long time to find happiness with another woman.

When Sam joined the crowd outside in the heat, Jane and Julie swooped down on her, giving her hugs and introducing her to their children, who had been absent from dinner the night before. “We’re sisters now,” Julie told her.

At age thirty-seven, Sam hadn’t imagined that her father’s marriage would expand
her
circle of relationships, and she certainly had never dreamed that anyone would consider her a sibling. She found herself inviting them to visit her at home.

“We wish we could be there for your big speech,” Jane said.

Sam scoffed in surprise. “No, you don’t. It’ll be pretty boring.”
Oh, and there is a chance that I’ll be killed.

Zola pressed a small flat box into Sam’s hands. “Bridesmaid’s gift. Open it later.”

Sam blushed. “I believe I’m supposed to give you gifts.”

“And you have, dear, just by being here.” She gave Sam a hug. “I’m thrilled to have another daughter.”

“Everyone really likes Chase,” Jane said.

Sam followed her gaze and spied Chase chatting with Julie’s husband, the visiting minister. She knew they hoped for an explanation about who Chase was to her, or—God forbid—some sort of announcement about their future together. That was as much a mystery to her as it was to her new relatives.

ON
the plane home, Sam opened Zola’s gift and immediately burst into tears, much to the consternation of the plump woman in the next seat.

“Why are you crying, honey? I think it’s beautiful.” She gently touched a painted fingernail to the embroidered quilt block on Sam’s lap. “Is that a mountain lion?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “I think it’s beautiful, too.” Zola had stitched a scene of a woman carrying a small child through a canyon. On the cliff above was the silhouette of a cougar against the setting sun.

“There must be a story behind this.” Her neighbor studied Sam for a few seconds, and then grabbed her forearm. “I saw you on TV, a few weeks ago! You’re that woman who went after that kid in Utah, when everyone else was saying that the cougars killed him.”

Sam nodded. If she hadn’t been belted in, she might have hugged the woman for saying it that way. Some people remembered little Zack Fischer disappearing, and others remembered that she’d protested shooting the cougars, but not many remembered that it had all happened in the same incident.

She hoped that her conference speech would not also make the headline news.

THE
day before her speech, Sam approached the conference center, her nerves on fire. Was this what death row
inmates felt like on their way to the electric chair? Her skin felt crawly, like someone was watching her. Her instincts were not wrong. Clearly, someone observed her approach from the parking lot, because Nicole Boudreaux arrived at the entrance door at the same time she did. Sam was surprised to see Chase’s auburn-haired partner instead of him, and even more surprised to see Nicole wearing a badge that said
FACILITIES COORDINATOR
. Following Nicole’s lead, she shook hands and they introduced themselves as if they were meeting for the first time.

Just inside the door, an armed guard was posted at a sign-in station. Was that standard procedure for all conference setups or something special the FBI had arranged? The guard copied the information from Sam’s driver’s license, and when Nicole explained that Sam was with her, he noted that, too.

While she had been in Kansas, the conference schedule arrived in her mailbox, complete with a four-color ad on the back that said,
Take It to
The Edge:
Your Source for High Adventure and Luxury Travel
. In her experience, high adventure and luxury rarely went together. Luxury implied comfortable surroundings and gourmet food, didn’t it? She’d found that high adventure was most often accompanied by falling rocks or sucking mud or, occasionally, terrifying torrents of water. And if there’d been any food at all on her adventures, it had been only an antique protein bar or a strip of tough jerky.

Nicole walked with Sam down echoing, highly polished hallways to lecture room A, which turned out to be the largest. The number of chairs already arrayed in rows around the room made Sam’s chest tighten with anxiety. On the left side of the room, several workers were unfolding even more. On stage, a man in coveralls glanced at them briefly over his shoulder before he went back to attaching a horizontal brass cylinder to the front of the podium.

A tiny stand, a huge expanse of stage. Could she really stand up there and deliver a performance tomorrow with
any shred of grace? Her speaking skills were untested. And then there was…that other little problem. That someone planned to kill her.

The lectern looked so lonely, so exposed. Her throat felt tight and dry. She wouldn’t have an attack of desert mouth tomorrow, would she? God forbid.

“Is everything all right?” she whispered to Nicole.

“It will be.”

Not the response she was hoping for. “Where’s Chase?”

“It’s important that you’re not seen together,” Nicole said, her voice a soft murmur Sam had to strain to hear. “We’re filming everything and everyone.” Nicole’s gaze flitted suggestively to the projection room over their heads, and Sam looked up briefly, but saw only a dark window.

“I don’t see anything.” Taking the cue, she kept her voice low.

“With luck, neither does anyone else.”

“Have you noticed anything suspicious so far?”

Nicole’s expression was frustrated. “No.”

Sam sighed. “Maybe it’s all a big hoax.”

“We can’t assume that, Summer.”

Sam looked around at the various workers in the room. “Shouldn’t you be doing more than just filming?”

“After everything is set up and everyone’s out, we’ll do a complete sweep for explosives and hidden weapons.”

Sam’s heart lurched with the realization that she could be in the same room with a bomb or a hidden cache of guns. Her gaze flicked nervously around the room. The fat guy taping down a cable looked legit, but wouldn’t they all? The guy fiddling with the lectern on stage tossed another glance at them over his shoulder. Sam tensed.

Nicole touched her arm gently. “Loosen up. You look scared to death.”

“That’s because I
am
scared to death.”

“Well, try not to look it. What are you wearing tomorrow?”

Why did Nicole care what she wore? Richard Best had wanted her to don a signature
TAKE IT TO THE EDGE
!
T-shirt, but she’d drawn the line there. They might be paying her to expose herself in front of a giant audience, but she had to preserve some personal dignity. “Pants, silk blouse, jacket,” she said.

“The jacket’s good,” Nicole replied. “Make sure your blouse is loose enough for the Kevlar vest.”

“What?” Sam squeaked. The other woman tightened the grip on her arm in warning, so Sam said in a quieter voice, “You’re not exactly inspiring confidence, Nicole.”

Nicole tucked a wing of shining auburn hair behind her ear. “We plan for all contingencies.”

In that case, Sam thought, she should wear a helmet or demand a bulletproof shield like the Pope used. She was short enough that most of her body would be hidden behind the podium, but wouldn’t her silver-blond hair make a nice bright target under the lights?

Sam gestured toward the stage. “Can I go up?”

Nicole nodded. “Let’s do it.”

As they walked up the steps onto the stage, the man on stage jerked a cord, unfurling the banner from the cylinder he’d attached to the front of the podium. Green and white silk proclaimed,
THE EDGE PRESENTS SUMMER “WILD WEST” WESTIN. TAKE IT TO THE EDGE!

“Oh, crap,” she groaned. “I’m going to kill Best. Can you take that thing down?”

The worker shook his head. “I just got it attached, like my boss told me to do. But it rolls back up.” He demonstrated by pulling the cord again, and the offensive banner disappeared into the brass cylinder. “So it’ll only show when this Wild West person is up here.”

“Wonderful,” she said wryly.

While Nicole inspected the wings, her heels clicking across the polished floor, Sam positioned herself in back of the podium and looked out at the vast room. She already felt nauseous, even though the place was empty. Tomorrow, she’d probably faint. She rested her arms along the podium’s edges, trying to find a comfortable position.

Anyone in any of those chairs would have a good, clear
shot at her head. Chase would never let that happen. Right? She couldn’t help remembering all the times she’d prayed for a shining knight to gallop up and save her. It never happened. Not once. But this time her knight was not alone, she reminded herself; he came with a whole contingent of armed personnel from the U.S. government. The FBI would keep her safe; they’d keep everyone at the conference safe. Right?

She shifted her weight, curled one hand around the podium’s mitered edge. Every stance felt awkward, yet somehow, the smooth dark wood and attached long-stemmed reading light seemed familiar. The sense of déjà vu was unnerving. She’d only stood behind a podium a few times in her life, and she’d certainly never touched this particular one. But—

A memory flooded her mind. She jerked her hands from the polished wood surface. “Nicole!”

Nicole approached from the left flank of the stage, her eyes brightening, one sleek eyebrow raised in a question.