Night Prey (15 page)

Jenna pushed open the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk. She rapped gently at the door. The windows were open, and she could hear birds chirping and music playing. She knocked again, a little louder. She hadn't called ahead to let him know she was coming.

Maybe he was writing with his headphones on and couldn't hear her. She turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

“Dad?”

No one was in the living room. She followed the sound of the music into the kitchen. The laptop was
open on the counter. Jenna felt a little twinge of panic. What if her father had had a heart attack? She would never forgive herself for the year of silence if it ended like that.

She stepped onto the sun porch and breathed a sigh of relief. Her father, with his back to her, was staring out the window. “Dad?”

He didn't turn around. She took a few steps toward him.

He spoke to the window. “I heard from that editor. They don't want my book.”

“Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry. There will be other publishers.”

He turned slowly. Shame clouded his expression. He held a glass in his hand. She recognized the amber liquid.

Jenna shook her head. Reality hit her like an icy gust of wind. This time was supposed to be different. Why had she let herself become hopeful? Her throat constricted, and her eyes warmed with tears. It was all a lie. People can't change.

Jenna turned and ran through the kitchen, out through the living room and back to her car. She fumbled with her keys, wiped her eyes and started the engine. She glanced at the door, thinking that maybe her father would come after her. She gritted her teeth. Why couldn't she let go of the idea that she could have a relationship with him?

She peeled out onto the street. Jenna drove for miles on country roads, losing track of where and when she
turned. Thoughts charged at her from all directions. Anger and pain mixed together.

So what if some publisher didn't want his book? He was just looking for an excuse to drink. He probably wasn't even being honest about how long he had been sober. Lies, it was all lies.

She drove back to the center. She rested her head against the back of the car seat. She had no more tears left and no strength. She gripped the wheel. Why had she opened her heart to Keith? He was just like her father. It was probably just a matter of time before he drank again, too.

She closed her eyes and let her hands rest at her side. Every time she saw her father on the street, she would feel the pain all over again. Only now it would hurt even more. Keith had made things worse, not better.

 

Keith had been pleased to see Jenna's car pull into the center just ahead of him, but he was surprised when she didn't get out of the car. Stepping around to the driver's-side door, he tapped on her window.

Something about Jenna seemed off to Keith as she rolled down the window. There was a tightness to her features as if she were trying to hide something.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded hoarse.

“I was just out driving and thinking after I went to early service at church,” he said.

“What were you thinking about?” He caught a flash of anger in her voice.

Keith stepped back from her car. Something was definitely bothering her. “I was thinking about Eddie.”

She opened her car door. He ambled back to his truck which now had a door a different color from the rest of the truck. He grabbed the piece of paper where he'd drawn the symbol he'd seen on Eddie's coffee cup. The sheriff had taken note of it but didn't think it was important. Keith hadn't stopped thinking about the symbol since he had seen it.

“This has to be a corporate logo or something.”

She jabbed her finger at the piece of paper. “Didn't the sheriff say that Eddie's last name was Helms? The coffee cup has his initials on it—E.H.” Her words were clipped, communicating impatience.

“Yeah, but what is with the weird symbol?”

“The sheriff will figure it out.” Jenna pulled the keys for the center out of her purse. “I still have to do rounds with the birds. We don't have any volunteers come in on Sunday.”

“I'll help you.”

Her posture stiffened. “I can handle it, thanks.”

Her coldness was confusing. Had he said or done something to upset her? “I want to help.”

“Suit yourself.” She shoved the key in the lock and twisted. The door swung open. “I just need to make sure there is no drama taking place with any of the birds and that they all have food and water. Everything else is paperwork I have to do on my own.”

“We start here?” Keith asked, pointing to the birds next to the office.

She nodded. “Then the flight barn, then the education birds. Pretty simple.” They both reached for the doorknob at the same time. Keith's hand brushed over hers. She pulled away and offered him an icy stare.

“Jenna, what is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I'm tired and I need to get this work done.” He detected a subtext of hurt beneath her words. No amount of probing on his part would get him a straight answer. Asking her directly just made her more bent out of shape. He wasn't a mind reader. Whatever was going on, it was her responsibility to tell him.

Eight of the ten cages next door to the office were occupied. Keith checked four of the cages, dealing with two spilled water dishes.

Keith trailed behind Jenna down the hill to the flight barn. She lifted the board and slid the door open. She turned to look at him. The icy veil over her wide brown eyes was like a stab to his heart. “I'm really used to doing this alone.”

Was she rejecting him again? He took a step back. The coolness and calm of late summer in the mountains surrounded him. Here they were again at a crossroads. Was he staying in Hope Creek or not? He needed a clear answer from her. “I've got a job offer driving an ambulance in Denver that starts in the fall.”

A shadow seemed to pass over her features. She offered him a single word response. “Oh.”

“So do you think I should take it?” Anxiety wove through him as he waited for her to respond.

She turned away from him, resting her hand on the frame of the door. He traced the outline of her long slender fingers with his eyes. Her hair took on a golden sheen in the afternoon sun, and he longed to touch it.

She angled toward him. Her eyes drew him in, but
then she dropped her gaze and kicked at a rock on the ground. “It's your life, Keith. It always has been.”

And she didn't want to be a part of it. She had made that pretty clear. He had his answer. “If you are used to doing this job by yourself, I will leave you to it.”

She didn't look at him, didn't say anything, only gulped in a sudden shuddering breath before stepping inside the flight barn.

Inside the barn, wings fluttered, harmonizing with Jenna's soothing voice. Keith turned quickly and strode up the hill. Each step felt like a hammer blow to his heart. He and Jet could be packed and on the road by late afternoon tomorrow. The goodbye to his grandparents would be hard. His tie to them was the only thing holding him here. All other ties had been cut.

 

Jenna stood beside the open flight barn door and listened to the sound of Keith's Dodge starting up and fading into the distance. She stood for a long time, allowing the silence and loneliness to envelop her. Tears warmed her cheeks.

He had asked her straight out what was bothering her. Why couldn't she share what had happened with her father? Why hadn't she just told him about her fear that he would start drinking again? She had grown up in a home where she learned to talk around a problem, never stating anything directly. It was such an easy habit to fall back into.

She had nearly doubled over with pain when he had talked about leaving. She'd known all along that was the plan. But then hope had glimmered once again in her heart in the most cruel way. Even though they hadn't
talked about it, after the kiss, she thought maybe things would be different…more permanent.

She should be happy. His leaving solved her problem and insured that the unbearable pain would not come again into her life.

She loved Keith. She knew that much. But being with him had the potential to bring so much hurt back into her life. With her father and with Keith, to open her heart was to risk being hurt. She had to let both of them go.

J
enna's cell phone rang just as she had tethered the bald eagle she was training to a post. Greta fluttered her wings and settled down. Jenna's mind was fogged from lack of sleep. She had stayed up most of the night thinking about Keith. It had been a long night and an even longer day. She pulled the phone off her belt and mustered up her best professional voice. “Hello. Bird of Prey Rescue Center, how may I help you?”

“This is Marybeth Helms. I'm Eddie Helms's wife.” After a long pause on the other end of the line, Jenna thought she heard a sob. “The sheriff said you found my husband. He thought it would be okay if I called you.”

“Yes.”

“Was he alive when you found him? Did he say any thing?” Even though Marybeth Helms chose her words carefully and spoke slowly, Jenna detected pain embedded in each syllable.

Jenna paced a few feet away from where she had tethered the eagle. This close to the flight barn, she had a nice view of the mountains. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Helms, but by the time I got to him…”

“I understand. I guess I was just looking for some closure, for an explanation.”

Jenna stopped pacing and pressed the phone harder against her ear. “An explanation?”

“Eddie loved to hunt and find a new challenge with his hunting. He had done African safaris. We went to Alaska. I don't know what happened up there in Montana.” Marybeth let out a faint cry.

“If this is too painful…”

“I want to talk. This last trip was different. He was afraid about something. He said things had gone too far.”

So Eddie had been killed because he was going to blow the whistle.

“Did Eddie ever mention knowing someone named Craig Smith?”

“No…he never said any names.” Silence filled the line for a moment. “He didn't talk much at all these last few months. My happy-go-lucky husband who loved the outdoors became this dark, brooding person.”

“He felt guilty about something?”

“You know, the last time he got ready to go up to Montana, I remember thinking that this nightmare would be behind us.” Her voice faltered. “And I would have my husband back.” Marybeth sniffled.

Jenna could hear shuffling, water running, footsteps. Then she heard Marybeth talk to someone in the tone a person uses with a child. What could she say to comfort this poor woman? She said a quick prayer for guidance.

The hum of a car engine pulling into the center park
ing lot caught Jenna's attention. From where she stood, she couldn't see who it was.

“I need to go. I've got to go help my daughter. You've been very kind,” Marybeth said.

With a heavy heart, Jenna said goodbye and hung up. Whoever had pulled into the center would have to come looking for her. She couldn't stop training. For a brief moment, she had wondered if it was Keith. Jenna shook her head. She had to let go of that hope.

She untied the eagle and set her on the fence post. “All right, Greta, let's try and get this right.” She adjusted the glove. Greta had recovered enough for Jenna to start working with her. She would make a good education bird if she was responsive to training. Eagles with her wingspan were always a crowd pleaser, but she couldn't take Greta into schools if she was unpredictable. “You got to quit being such a teenage brat, okay?”

The bird tilted her head as though she understood.

Jenna offered the bird her gloved hand. “Up.” Greta mounted onto Jenna's arm, rebalancing herself by flapping her wings. Even through the glove, Jenna could feel the strength of the eagle's talons. No matter how long she worked here, she couldn't become complacent about the kind of power she was dealing with. The dual ratcheting system of the talons that allowed this raptor to clamp down on its prey could just as easily dig into her. Eagles this size could topple a small deer if they wanted to. “Good.” She pulled a treat from her pouch and offered it to the bird. “You like that part, don't you?”

“Ho, there.” Peter Hickman waved at her from the top of the hill.

She signaled for him to come down. This would be a good test to see if Greta could keep her cool around another person. The bird shifted slightly on the glove.

When he arrived at the bottom of the hill, Peter waved an envelope in front of her. “I've got some post gala donations for you. Some people just need a while for their hearts to soften.”

A tinge of pain rolled through her at the memory of her time with Keith at the fundraiser. How long would it be before this didn't hurt anymore? She forced a smile. “Peter, that's wonderful—we'll be able to get a security system and knock off some of that other stuff from our wish list.”

“So you are serious about that security system.” Peter's mouth twitched. His smile seemed forced. “That sounds terrific.”

Greta flapped her wings as though preparing for takeoff. Jenna could feel air moving from the force of the wings. She held the tether a little tighter. “I got to get this bird inside. She's still a little nervous around people.”

“I would be glad to help.”

“I can just put her in the flight barn for now. Then we can go to the office. I assume the people want receipts for their donations.”

Peter chuckled. “People like the tax write-off.” He sauntered ahead of her, unlatched the flight barn door and pushed it open.

Jenna stepped into the barn. A red-tailed hawk sat on a perch post close to the door.

Peter came up behind her. “You seem preoccupied.”

She turned to face him, but took a step back because he was standing so close. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

She was preoccupied…about a lot of things. She wasn't about to tell Peter about Keith, though. “I'm sure you heard about the shooting?”

“He nodded. Murder doesn't happen that often around here. The whole town is buzzing.”

“Eddie's death is so disturbing. I just talked to his widow. I think he was trying to do the right thing. I think someone was making money off him and other out-of-state hunters, organizing these crazy illegal hunts.”

“Oh, really?”

“Your place is right next to Craig Smith's. Have you seen anything?”

“Seen anything?”

Jenna shook her head. “I don't want to point fingers.” She untethered the eagle and positioned her on a post. “But if you've noticed anything strange, like a helicopter parked on his land…”

Peter shook his head.

“You want to give me a hand? I need to take this guy in for a dose of antibiotics.” She pointed toward an owl sleeping on a shelf by the windowsill. “If you could stand in the door and kind of block it, there is less risk of escapees. They are usually not that bold, but that red-tailed makes me nervous.”

“Sure.”

After attaching a tether, Jenna maneuvered the owl onto her gloved hand. The owl barely stirred. She strode over to the door. Peter stepped to one side so she could get out.

When she turned around, Peter was struggling to close the door. “It sticks sometimes. Give it a hard push.”

He lunged at the door, and it slid into place. While he put the board into the hooks, Jenna noticed his keys had fallen on the ground. She leaned and picked them up with her free hand. Ice froze in her veins. Peter's key ring had the same symbol with the letters E.H. that had been on Eddie's coffee cup.

Peter turned to face her. Jenna managed a smile. “You dropped these.”

He took the keys. His fingernails scraped across her palm. “Thank you.”

Jenna's mouth went dry. “Why don't we head up to the office and get those receipts written up?”
And then you can be out of here, and I can call the police.

“Everything all right, Jenna?”

Her heart pounded out a wild erratic beat. “I'm just shook up. Thinking about what happened to that poor man.” She could tell that her voice sounded thin, like she was forcing the words out.

Peter offered her a smile. His teeth shone white in the sunlight. “The whole community has been shattered by this. It will be a while for healing to happen. I am thinking about opening up my home to the people in town, have some sort of get-together to help people process their feelings.”

“I am sure the churches will do that, Peter.” She struggled to keep the trembling out of her voice.

The owl flapped his wings, matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her skin felt clammy.

Jenna turned and headed up the hill toward the office.
The owl flew off her arm and landed on the ground. He bounced a few feet away from her. She raced after him, and he skittered a few feet more. Finally, she stopped him by stepping on the tether.

Peter materialized beside her. She could feel the heat of his body as he pressed against her arm. His fingers pinched the back of her neck.

“I think you and I need to go for a ride.” He dug his fingers deeper into her nape.

The nerves in her neck muscles flared with pain. She gasped.

He spoke into her ear; his breath seared her skin. “But first, let's go to my car to get my gun.”

 

Keith readjusted the suitcase on the seat of his truck as he drove through town. His goodbye to his grandparents had been bittersweet. He didn't deserve to be loved like they loved him. He could never repay them for what they had done for him. He would come back when he could to help out and to take care of them. Of course, that meant he might run into Jenna. The thought of even crossing paths with her made his chest ache.

Jet whimpered and rested his chin on the suitcase, staring up at Keith. They were nomads again. The lead on a job in Denver looked promising. He would land somewhere. He always did.

He parked and stared at the library as a young woman entered, holding the hand of a blond boy. The boy wasn't more than two feet tall and each step was a stretch for his tiny legs.

He had one more goodbye before he drove out of this place. Keith stepped out of his vehicle and strode across
the street and took the library steps two at a time. He wove his way through the stacks, past a group of moms sitting in a circle with their children while one of them read aloud.

Richard Murphy's silver gray hair was visible above the high counter of the check-out desk. He smiled and lifted his chin when he saw Keith.

Richard sat at the computer, clicking through pages that were mostly text. As always, there was sadness in his eyes despite the smile. Richard focused on the screen as he spoke. “I hear you are headed out of town.”

“I came to say goodbye and to wish you well with everything.”

Richard swung his chair around to look up at Keith. The sadness in his eyes intensified. “Everything?”

Keith nodded, wondering what the older man meant by the one word response.

Richard managed a smile. “Your support has meant the world to me.”

Keith rested his elbows on the counter. Beside him were a pile of children's books ready for check-in. The top book was about wolves. Keith stared at the cover photograph, a black wolf with intense yellow eyes.

He would be leaving Hope Creek with a lot of loose ends. Things with Jenna had ended so abruptly, so coldly. Maybe there was one thing he could resolve or at least help bring to a close. He brushed his hand over the picture of the wolf.

“Can we do a little looking around on that computer?” Keith grabbed a piece of paper and drew the logo he had seen on Eddie Helms's coffee cup. “Can we find out what this means?”

Richard took the piece of paper. “We can give it a try.” Richard retrieved another chair for Keith.

Keith settled into the hard plastic chair while Richard studied the drawing. “What do you think it is, anyway?”

“I was thinking maybe it was some sort of corporate logo?” Keith examined his own crude drawing and tried to remember what the original had looked like.

Richard scratched his head. “Maybe some kind of club symbol like 4-H.”

Keith chuckled. “I don't think these guys were into raising pigs for the county fair.”

Richard released a soft laugh. He paged through several websites. “I'm not finding anything.” He turned his attention back to the drawing, tapping his finger on it. “E.H.” He repeated the letters three times.

“I think that stands for Eddie Helms. But it is the symbol that is bothering me. Maybe we are making this harder than it has to be. Why don't we see if Eddie Helms had a Facebook page?”

Richard clicked through until he found the Eddie Helms they were looking for. There were pictures of Eddie on a boat with his wife and two children. Pictures of Eddie at the motorcycle shop he owned.

“This symbol reminds me of a crossbow,” Richard said.

Keith studied the pictures closer. There was one of Eddie standing over a lion carcass he had just shot. He was wearing a T-shirt with the crossbow logo, and the letters E.H. Several men stood beside Eddie while others milled around him. Some were unaware of the camera and others offered a thumbs-up. They were all wearing
identical shirts. Keith leaned closer to the computer, studying the photograph. His attention was drawn to a figure in the background of the image.

Richard touched the photo Keith was examining. “Looks like someone went on safari. That's some high risk hunting if you ask me.”

“Yeah, high risk, very extreme.” Keith shifted in his chair. Now everything made sense. “E.H. doesn't stand for Eddie Helms, it stands for Extreme Hunters. I suspect that this guy is the club president.” Keith pointed to a blurry figure in the background turned slightly away from the camera. “Peter Hickman knew Eddie Helms.”

“They hunted together in Africa,” Richard said.

Keith scooted his chair back. “I am going to tell the sheriff. Can you call Jenna and tell her for me?” It would be too heartbreaking to hear her voice.

A shadow fell across Richard's face. “I'm afraid my daughter isn't talking to me again and with good reason.”

“But I thought—”