Edge of Survival (17 page)

Sitting back on his heels, he pulled out another plastic bag and carefully unwrapped the blade that Arnie had pulled on Daniel Fox yesterday. Both their fingerprints would be on the handle, and they might both get arrested, but Dwight would take that chance as long as the RCMP busted Fox. That would be enough to fire his British ass from the job.

Dwight worked the damp cotton into the seams of the knife, where the blade met the hilt. Taking his time, knowing he couldn’t afford to mess up, he repeated the process until the blade was lightly coated in Sylvie’s blood.

He placed the used swabs inside the Ziploc and shoved it back in his pocket ready for the incinerator, then he slid the dagger beneath the back wheel of the ATV and started uncovering some of the branches that hid it from view.

Eventually, one of the workers would notice the bright red vehicle abandoned in the bush. Then he’d radio the RCMP and wait for the fireworks to start.

***

The rabbit was still warm and twitched in his hands as the man checked for ground sign. The glutton had come this way again last night. Excitement filled him. He tried to contain it, but it prickled his skin like an electric current. There were fresh prints in the dirt and newly bent grass. The critter had passed the old tree on his usual nightly hunt, looking for food to eat or cache for the winter.

But the bastard wasn’t going to make it through another winter.

He didn’t bother to hide his footsteps. His rifle was cocked and ready as he cut into the bush toward the deadfall trap.

“That’s more like it.”

The rocks had fallen in, crushing anything unwise enough to have crawled beneath it. There was no noise on the mountain, just the foul stink of the musk the creature used to mark its food. And there was scat, as if the creature had taken a big dump so it could fill its cavernous insides with yet another stolen meal. Excitement made his fists tighten. Why would anyone want these creatures protected? He should do the world a favor and destroy every last one.

It was hot already, not that he was complaining. Winter made his joints freeze. Sweat made his neck slippery and he felt the grime on his collar as he ran his finger along the seam. He dropped the rabbit and knelt beside the rubble. Slowly he started shifting rocks, hauling them off, each one making his arms shake because of the weight. He frowned, dragged back another rock, and another, becoming more and more frantic until he saw bare earth. The bait was gone. The trap was sprung but, like a phantom, the wolverine had disappeared.

He formed the sign of the cross on his chest.

Was it nothing but a spirit creature? A
tuurngaq?
Or maybe Sylvie herself come back to bedevil him from the grave.

No
.
Dammit!
The tracks were real. The shit was real. The stink that coated his clothes and hands and made him smell like he’d been pissed on, that was real too.

He sat back on his heels and squeezed his eyelids together so hard they hurt. Tears formed and swam down his cheeks, but he kept his eyes closed, listening to the wind in the trees, feeling the sun’s warmth on his face.

He opened his eyes and sniffed away the misery, running the back of his hand beneath his nose. He wanted to rage, the way he’d raged the day Sylvie had tried to blackmail him. But rage had blinded him and he’d made a foolish mistake. He could have shut her up with false promises. Tricked her, hell, even given her enough cash to send herself into oblivion with whisky and blow. His hands shook as they curled around the stock of his rifle.

He climbed to his feet, his knee still paining him from too much walking. There was a cost to freedom and maybe this was it. Maybe this was a test. He drew in the mountain air and released it with a promise.

Whatever it took.

He’d do whatever it took to get what he needed, or he’d die trying.

***

Déjà vu.

Griff stood on top of the steps of the plane and looked out at the mist covering the Labrador coast. The rising sun revealed a world in that thin early morning light that felt clean and fresh and full of potential. And there was McCoy at the bottom of the steps, standing to attention like a soldier on parade. Charlie Watson was waiting beside her, and Griff’s appreciation of the natural beauty faded.

Maybe finding the missing ATV would bring them closer to solving Mr. Watson’s daughter’s murder. Griff hauled his kitbag over his shoulder and made his way to the airstrip.

He dropped the bag at his feet and stuck out his hand. “Mr. Watson. Constable.” He nodded to each in turn.

“Sir.” McCoy had returned to her usual uptight self, which somehow felt right. Her pale eyes were rimmed with sooty lashes, her thin lips pinched and almost invisible in the seriousness of her face.

Charlie stared at his outstretched hand as if Griff had Ebola. “They found my ATV yesterday, but you don’t arrive until now?” The man spat in the grit at his feet and McCoy bristled.

Pity stirred in Griff’s heart. He had a daughter too. And he’d made this man a promise. He reached out and squeezed Charlie’s shoulder. “I understand your frustration, and I apologize for not getting here sooner, but I was in court all day yesterday, and I wanted to assess the vehicle myself.” He paused. “No point finding evidence if we don’t follow through with a conviction in the courts.”

He raised his brows at the man, who looked away but nodded grudgingly. That was something anyway.

“How’s Mrs. Watson holding up?” It was always easier to talk about how women coped with grief. Men sucked at the emotion. They either buried it too deep or it buried them.

“She was doing okay, but then the funeral…” Charlie swallowed a sob. “The funeral hit her hard.”

“The Major Crime Unit is chasing every lead and following up every piece of information, sir. Constable McCoy is devoting all her energies to finding your daughter’s killer. We have not forgotten Sylvie, and we will get the person responsible. Trust me.”

Charlie tried to wipe away his tears, but they flowed too fast.

“Let’s give you a ride home before Constable McCoy and I go out to the site. Okay?”

“No.” Charlie backed away and shook his head, looking like a man coming out of a daze. “No. I need to walk. I don’t want Mary to see me like this.”

Griff swallowed. It was hard to see such a proud man cry. “Take care, Mr. Watson. I’ll be in touch.”

The devastated father walked slowly away.

“Poor guy,” he said under his breath to McCoy.

She nodded. “An officer escorted the murder weapon to the lab yesterday, and they are going to work on it immediately, thanks to your orders.”

No small talk. It was as if he’d never left. “Good.”

They watched the old man hobble along the road and begin to climb the path that led over the headland.

“Why did you put in that special request?” she asked.

Griff shrugged. “The family could use a break so I pulled a few strings. Plus, the Feds are jittery over potential scandal surrounding the mine, so I figured I’d be doing us all a favor.” But the real reason was he’d made the Watsons a promise he intended to keep.

“You want to drop your bag at the house before we head to the site?”

For some reason Griff found himself blushing and thinking about last time he’d arrived. Now his wife was talking trial separation and they all knew what that meant. Divorce. But the shrink for once was on his side, suggesting they give it another shot. Unfortunately, the shot would be short-lived if he was off-island for more than a day or two.

“Let’s not hang around. I want this killer locked up by nightfall.”

Cam was about to climb out of the helicopter when Daniel grabbed her arm. She turned to him in question and he grinned one of his knock-out grins and pulled her toward him for a kiss that shocked every neuron in her body. They’d shared some incredible nights although, thank God, she hadn’t had a repeat hypoglycemic attack.

“Be careful,” he ordered against her mouth.

“I’m always careful.” She kissed him again and then jumped out, closing the door, holding his gaze for a moment. But the rotors didn’t encourage romance so she gave him a wave and ran to the sidelines where Vikki crouched with Tommy and Katie, and they all watched Daniel take off.

Vikki took one look at her face. “You’re not only sleeping with that sonofabitch, you’re falling in love with him. After everything I warned you about—”

“Hush,” Cam admonished.

“
You
slept with him,” Tommy pointed out to Vikki, not caring that he wasn’t supposed to be part of this conversation.

“Shut—” Vikki narrowed her eyes at the teenager, “—up.”

“Okay, everyone!” Cam spoke loudly over what was about to deteriorate to a fight over who had and hadn’t slept with Daniel, which sent a shiver of disquiet through her stomach. “Let’s forget about Daniel for a few hours—”
if only
, “—and get on with what should be the final day of sampling.”

Cam picked up one end of the cooler and, after a vicious glare at the kid, Vikki picked up the other. Tommy and Katie grabbed the second cooler and they all trundled through the tamarack scrub toward the river, where Tooly was meeting them. They’d had a lot of success at this site, and Cam hoped to repeat that today so she could concentrate on setting up her stations and actually tracking the fish. Vikki could finish collecting her samples and be free to head home. Her friend had worked out better than Cam had imagined. That was the beauty of fieldwork. It brought out unexpected strengths in people, or made them crumble.

“I’m only worried about you,” Vikki muttered as they followed the others.

“Don’t be.”

“But I am.” Vikki looked genuinely outraged. “That guy isn’t right in the head, Cam—”

“He’s fine,” Cam protested.

“If you think so.” The roll of her eyes had drama queen written all over it.

“What about you?” Irritation began to itch Cam’s skin like a rash. “You go after any male that moves and yet you think
he’s
the sex maniac.”

“Not anymore I don’t.” She looked indignant.

“What are you, a born-again virgin?”

“Yeah.” Vikki bit her lip. She’d ditched the lipstick but still wore eyeliner. “Maybe.” She looked uncertain, and Cam stopped moving, one leg either side of a fallen log.

“Are you serious?” Cam asked.

“I, er…” Vikki swallowed and looked around, suddenly nervous. “Look, I got an AA sponsor.”

Cam dropped her half of the cooler and Vikki managed to hold onto hers before it hit the ground. “In the middle of Northern Labrador?”

Vikki nodded. “I know it sounds crazy. It wasn’t what I was expecting either. Anyway…” she cleared her throat, “…he persuaded me that I have esteem issues and that’s why I sleep around.”

“You? Esteem issues?”

“Yes,
me
,” Vikki snapped. “Will you shut up and listen?”

“I have never met anyone with more confidence about their appearance than you have.” Cam picked up the cooler again and started trudging through the bush.

“I don’t have hang-ups about my body,” Vikki admitted. “I mean, why would I?”

Esteem issues.
Cam bit back a laugh.

“But—” Vikki tripped and swore and dug in her heels. “Can you just
stop
for a second?”

Cam sighed. “What?”

“I
used
to sleep around because I have self-esteem issues—not about my body, but I guess my self-worth.” She didn’t look like she wanted to talk about it even though Cam wanted to push it. “Daniel Fox,” Vikki said slowly and with emphasis, “does
not
have esteem issues. He’s a user.”

Cam gritted her teeth and blew out a breath through her nose. It irritated her that she and Vikki had both slept with the same guy, but she and Daniel shared a connection that she didn’t want to talk about, and that scared her. Because what if Daniel shared a connection with all his women?

Cam gave the cooler a nudge into Vikki’s thigh. “You slept with him once and now you think you know everything there is to know about him?”

“I know a psycho when I see one—”

“You should,” Cam grumbled beneath her breath.

Vikki plowed on. “I just don’t want you to get hurt when he dumps you—” Cam opened her mouth to protest, but Vikki rode right over her. “And he
will
dump you, Cameran, because he is not the marrying type.”

Cam changed hands on the cooler because it was getting heavy and frankly she was tired of this conversation.

Vikki was probably right. And even if she wasn’t, Cam wasn’t falling for the man. They were having fun, dammit. She was only here for a few more weeks, and he wasn’t going to follow her to Florida—she knew that. And she also knew he’d rip her heart in two if she fell in love with him, and she didn’t intend to let that happen. But for once, Cam wanted to forget caution and just enjoy herself like everyone else did. Was that too much to ask?

***

He stumbled slowly down the loose shale, looking around and seeing no one. The rabbit bobbed limply in his grasp. At the bottom he dusted himself off and walked over to the small shed the eco-freaks had constructed where the lake squeezed into the river. He looked around and pulled a hammer and nails out of his tool belt.

Things were coming together. He smiled. He’d already sorted the pilot, the bastard just didn’t know it yet.

He wore old work gloves so wasn’t worried about fingerprints. The first nail went through the delicate pink tissue of the bunny’s ears and then he spread the front legs wide, breaking the bones to get the damn thing to stretch out enough to bang home another nail. He stood back to admire his work—frowned—it didn’t look as gruesome as he’d thought it would. He pulled out his knife. The keen edge caught a glimmer of sunlight as he drew the blade over the soft white fur of the belly. The smell was pungent and foul, and though dead things didn’t bleed, the entrails looked satisfyingly gory as they spilled out down the wooden boards.

Pleased, he backed away and faded into the bush. He wished he could watch the show but there was no time. But the message was clear.

Fuck off, bitch, or you’re next.

***

The group was strung out along the riverbank, following an animal trail that was about three inches wide. Cam’s feet were sore, which was a worry, and even though she’d tried to immerse herself in her work, Vikki’s words kept echoing through her mind.

“You okay?” Tooly stopped at the side of the trail and took one look at her face and grabbed the handle from her fingers.

“Thanks.” Sweat poured down her brow. She needed lunch but they were only about a quarter of a mile from the fixed station and she didn’t want to stop. She pulled a granola bar out of one of her pockets and started to eat.

“You need a rest, Cam?” Vikki called. She was happy now because she’d gotten all the samples she needed and could head home any time.

Cam didn’t want to think about going home, and she didn’t want to think about
why
she didn’t want to think about going home. It was too depressing. She was too smart not to know why she was so unhappy. The radio crackled on her belt but the message wasn’t for them so she ignored it.

A gray jay flew from branch to branch ahead of them, crying like a herald. The cheeky birds always turned up to watch what they were doing, being rewarded with scraps of lunch and stealing anything edible left unattended for more than five seconds.

The jay gave a shriek and took off.

Cam traipsed on. Tommy waited and dragged her up a large boulder and she turned and helped Tooly. The old man’s fingers were rough as sandpaper in her grasp. She sent him a smile. Without his help she wouldn’t have completed the tagging so swiftly. Hell, she might not have done it at all. But the faster she got the job done, the faster the dam would be built and the faster the old man would have to leave his birthplace.

Guilt settled on Cam’s shoulders like black rain.

Crap.

She jogged around Katie and Tommy to take the lead. She was impatient with herself, irritated by her deepening feelings for Daniel, frustrated she couldn’t stop a juggernaut like the Harrison-Wolff Mining Company from destroying Tooly’s home. But Tooly had the local community to support him and fight for his rights if staying here was what he really wanted. The Inuit government had made the deal—surely they’d considered all the options before displacing one of their people?

It wasn’t her problem. And if she kept saying that over and over, maybe she’d eventually believe it.

“Ew, man! That’s gross!” Tommy shouted from behind her.

They’d reached the site of her uppermost monitoring station. She slammed to a stop and Tooly crashed into her back.

Disgust churned through her belly as Cam forced herself to move toward the shed. Entrails shone pale green and silver in the midday sun, dark innards spilling down the wood. The gray jay perched on a dead rabbit’s shoulders and dug into a gourmet lunch.

A shiver drew her shoulders up and in. She scanned the steep mountainside and even she could see a human trail scouring the slope. But the sonofabitch had seriously underestimated her. Behind her, the others dropped the coolers on the ground. Cam opened one and pulled out a garbage bag and some latex gloves.

“You going to report that to the police?” Vikki’s voice carried eerily off the shale cliffs. The blonde was intent and serious, showing her non-bimbo side. Come to think of it, Vikki hadn’t acted like a bimbo since the night she’d slept with Daniel.

Cam shook her head and marched up to the rabbit. “Last time I reported anything to the police I was treated like a fool for wasting their time.”

Vikki touched her arm just as Cam reached for the mutilated corpse. “But you know this is how serial killers start, right?”

Cam nodded and they both searched the hillside. She didn’t need the corpse to bring Sylvie Watson back to the forefront of her mind. “Yep, but serial killers usually start with defenseless animals and work their way up to humans. I don’t think they go backward and start butchering bunnies again once they’ve tasted the real thing.”

“You hope,” Vikki whispered out of the side of her mouth.

Cam nodded. That was for damn sure. She maneuvered the garbage bag over the poor creature, then gathered the soft body in her hands and pulled it free of the nails. Looking down at the macabre offering, pity moved through her. As a biologist, she was used to seeing dead animals, and the sight of blood and gore didn’t turn her stomach the way it was probably supposed to.

She tied the bag tightly and threw it in the cooler with Vikki’s samples because she didn’t want to attract larger local wildlife with a free meal. Perhaps she should have taken Daniel up on his offer to lend her the shotgun, but it would have been one more thing to carry.

“Come,” Tooly called. He was setting up a fire near the edge of the wood. “I’ll make tea while you eat.”

Cam nodded, feeling weak and lightheaded. The stench of death clung to her nostrils and reminded her of another time, another body. A lot had happened since the day she found Sylvie Watson in Bear’s Bar. The scariest was the intensity of her feelings for Daniel. She’d been engaged to two guys she liked less. Shaky, Cam took a seat on a rock, checked her blood glucose, and pulled her insulin from her fanny pack, along with a fresh syringe.

There was no happy-ever-after for them. For her. They lived in different worlds that had just happened to collide for one short summer.

Tooly filled a blackened metal saucepan with fresh water and placed it over the flames to boil.

“What happens if you don’t take your medicine?” he asked, nodding to her syringe as she sank it into her flesh.

“Depends. If I’ve eaten but not had my shot, my blood sugar gets super high, which is dangerous, but not deadly in the short term.” She disposed of her needle. “You’re lucky you don’t have diabetes. Type-2 is epidemic in aboriginal communities.”

“Yes.” His black eyes were wise as they studied her. “But I live the old way. Maybe I’ll catch it when I move south.”

Cam felt like he’d put two hands around her throat and squeezed. “You can’t catch it, but make sure you eat a healthy diet,” she told him gently. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else living with these physiological shackles.

“What happens if you take medicine but don’t eat?” he asked, his eyes disappearing into slits as his lips scrunched in contemplation.

“That’s more of a problem,” Cam admitted. She forced a smile. “It’s all about getting the balance right.” A shiver zipped over her shoulders and down her spine, and she suddenly felt as if she were being watched.

Tooly pointed his index finger straight up. She followed his direction toward a microscopic dot in the sky. A golden eagle soared on the thermals, circling overhead. Tooly had not only known the eagle was there, he’d sensed what she was feeling. The guy had an uncanny knack with nature.

“This place is incredible.”

The corners of Tooly’s mouth turned down. “Nothing stays the same forever.”

“You’re going to miss it.” A lump formed in Cam’s throat. Was she really helping a monster-conglomerate oust one small landowner who’d lived here all his life?

“Come, help me pick tea.” He stood, stretching out his back in a wide-kneed stance. He led her into the bush and picked a couple of leaves from a small evergreen shrub, then handed her one to smell while he continued to pick from bushes all around. The leaf felt smooth and waxy; she crushed it between her fingers and caught its fragrant tangy scent. Without Tooly showing her what she could and couldn’t eat, she wouldn’t have taken the risk.

“I hope you’ve got sugar,” she joked.

He smiled, his terrible teeth revealing poverty and a weakness for sweet things. “I always carry sugar.” He patted the pocket of his cardigan.