Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) (6 page)

He looks down and then waves me off. “Shoot, my people have seen much colder than this.”

I smile. “Yeah, well it’s your
old legs
I’m worried about. Now you’d better get back inside before you freeze to death.”

He chuckles. “Alright. You stay out of trouble, Elu. For once.”

“Always,” I say, waving goodbye and walking away.

Before I turn the corner, I look back and see Tommy standing there, watching me. I wave one more time and grin all the way to the USFWS office. It doesn’t matter if it’s ninety degrees and sunny or twenty degrees and gloomy, Tommy still wears shorts, a fishing vest, and that silly hat with all his lures hanging off the brim.

That’s probably the one thing that will never change.

* * *

I study my feet until they automatically stop in front of Carl’s old office. I suck in a breath before looking up at the ancient door with the same cracked windowpane. Some of the letters in Carl Stevens’ name are still stuck to the glass, forming a chilling message.

_A_L’ S _ _ EVEN_.

Just seeing the letters of Al’s name makes me nauseous.

A loud voice calls out behind me. “Gracie! Wait up.”

I turn and see Les shuffling across the street in his nasty hiking boots. I’m still amazed they’ve lasted this long. Almost makes me want to send a letter to the manufacturer, informing them of the small miracle. Maybe Les would get a free pair. One can only hope.

“Hey, Les.” I wait at the door as he hobbles over.

Even though my dad’s old partner and best friend seems to have lost a few pounds, he grunts as he struggles to move.

As soon as Les reaches the building, he hugs me, squishing me into his round belly. I squeeze him back, thankful he wasn’t killed along with Carl. I still feel bad for thinking he was involved, but Les always says we should let bygones be gone.

He scoops his finger in his cheek and removes a wad of tobacco from the side of his mouth. He plops it into a cup. “I’ve been worried about you and your momma. Haven’t seen you around much since –.”

I cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest, and motion to a group of kids pointing at me. “Yeah. Well, I’m not too popular around these parts.”

He frowns and waves off the teenage gawkers. “Hey! Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

I can’t help but laugh at how immature he sounds, even though he’s a wildlife ranger practically Dad’s age. The small mob from school walks off.

Les removes his hat and scratches his the sparse sprigs of reddish hair on his head. “Gotta stick up for your own.” He looks up at the building we’re standing in front of and spits onto the ground. “What are you doing at this place? Doesn’t seem like your kind of hangout.”

I avoid looking at the door. “I’m working with Agent Sweeney.”

“Ahhhh, the wolf thing. Shoulda known you’d be involved.” He pulls his hat back on and rubs his gray-and-orange goatee. “Your daddy would be proud.”

I nod and drop my head. “I know.”

“Well, let’s not keep them waiting.”

“Wait, you’re on this project too?” I feel a bit relieved knowing I’ll have one person on my side.

He fights with his shirt, trying to force the ends to stay in his belt. “My territory. I’ll be getting updates, but I certainly won’t be traipsin’ around with you kiddos in the winter wonderland.” He grabs the door handle and motions to me. “Ladies first.”

I bow slightly. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Smiling, he spits one more time and opens the door.

The familiar bell that always announced Carl’s visitors sends a chill down my spine. Everything about that day comes flooding back.

It takes everything I have to walk inside.

Survival Skill #4

Hike leaders are responsible for the safety and enjoyment of the group; therefore, it is important to choose them wisely
.

I
stop for a second, and Les cups my shoulder. “It’s okay, Gracie. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I can’t help but cringe every time he uses Dad’s nickname for me. He’s the only one besides Dad who calls me Gracie. I force myself to take a step into Carl’s space. I glance around and remember the last time I was here. Sneaking behind Bernice’s back to crack Carl’s records on my Dad’s case. I wonder what happened to her when this place closed down.

Luckily, the space looks completely different. Agent Sweeney has gutted the interior and had it totally redone. The internal walls have been blown out, and the old, musty furniture replaced with new, leather-smelling ones. Now the place is pretty much an open room with a few desks off to one side and a large meeting area on the other.

I approach the rows of chairs bordered by bookshelves. A screen hangs in the front, telling me we’re about to get some kind of presentation. Old maps hang alongside bulletin boards filled with pinned notes, and the walls are decorated with mounted fish marked with species labels. Over by the window, there’s a long, thin table of tagged items, probably confiscated from poachers. I scan the items: furs, guns, and other hunter paraphernalia.

And this is probably just from last weekend.

Agent Sweeney stands at the front of the room, chatting with Les and two other people I don’t recognize. Every now and then, Les’ big laugh fills the room. The other kids from my class are already sitting in their seats. On the Team One side, Big Mike, the top-rated Right Guard at my high school, is crammed into a chair that’s one-third his size. I’m a bit surprised he gave up his Saturday jolt of testosterone at practice to be stuffed in here. Then again, who wants to practice in the cold besides our practice-day-and-night-in-rain-or-snow Coach Gary?

Seth, the shortest soccer player at school who suffers from a serious case of Napoleon Complex (a.k.a. SMS for small man syndrome) is sitting opposite Mike. Seth’s small feet are propped up on the chair in front of him. Bright red hair pokes out from underneath his floppy knit cap, reminding me of how my Raggedy Ann doll looked after my dog Bear got a hold of her head. Madison, the new brainiac from New York, is sitting quietly, reading some nonfiction book titled
The Return of the Wolves
. She’s already updating her database of factoids. The girl probably knows more about everything than Google does.

She glances back at me and smiles. I grin briefly and beeline to my team’s side where Wyn and Skyler are already in a PDA marathon. When he kisses her, I cringe. Gross. I squeeze down an aisle and sit a couple rows behind them, close enough to look like a team player but far enough to prevent hurling from all the cooing sounds. The mere sight of them is bad enough.

Wyn glances over and nods. I guess it’s a step up. He’s at least acknowledging I take up space in this world. Yet, I can’t help but be completely peeved. After years of being friends, sharing secrets, and beating him in rock, paper, scissors, all I get is one stupid nod? Like he’s some librarian approving my membership or a grocery clerk scanning my frequent-shopper card.

I ignore his nonverbal greeting and look away. I mean, why should I nod back? What does that even mean? Yes? Yes to what? Yes, you abandoned a friendship because of a fake doll. Or yes, you turned your back on me when I needed you the most because your bruised male ego got in the way?

Agent Sweeney walks to the front and leans against a desk. “Well, kids, thanks for coming out on a cold day. Everyone still excited about the project?”

We look at each other and nod while Big Mike raises his large, mitt-sized hand. “Feeling good over here, Boss.”

Agent Sweeney claps once and points to Big Mike. “Glad to hear it. I think you’ll enjoy being part of such an important project.”

He points to an old man standing off to one side in haggard pants and a shirt. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was homeless. “I want to introduce you to a couple people involved in the project. This is Jerry Porter. He’s a retired professor from N.C. State, where he taught in the Forestry and Wildlife department.

“He’s also one of the nation’s best trackers and has spent a lot of time studying wolves out West as well as here. He’s working with the Red Wolf Coalition in this monumental task of researching the behaviors and patterns of the red wolf. We want to be sure there’s an adult in the field at all times to ensure safety, so he’ll be your guide and go-to person. If you need anything, he’s the expert.”

Everyone clap as Porter waves. The guy’s got to be at least Birdee’s age. His thick, white mustache and green suspenders make him look more like an old Grizzly Adams than a wolf lover/retired professor with an advanced degree.

Agent Sweeney motions to Les. “Of course, you all know Les. He’ll be looped in since this is his territory.”

Les smiles with tobacco-stained teeth. “Howdy.”

A pretty blonde lady, who looks very natural in her wrinkle-free cargo pants and red zipped fleece with not a fuzz ball out of place, steps forward. “I’m Katie Reynolds. District Conservationist.”

Agent Sweeney nods. “Katie, I mean Ms. Reynolds, is a conservationist in the state, meaning she works to protect our natural resources and the environment. She’s also on the board of the Wolf Coalition.”

Katie smiles, showing a perfect row of teeth. “You can call me Katie. I just want to thank you all for volunteering on this important project. If you need anything, just ask, and I’ll make sure you get it.” She smiles at me specifically. “It’s nice to see the girls represented in this program as well. I look to you ladies to keep the boys in line.”

Madison and I nod. If this lady can work a bunch of stiff politicians and state officials, then Madison and I can lead a hike.

While hopefully Skyler takes one.

Agent Sweeney nods to Porter. “Jerry, why don’t you kick things off?”

Porter pushes away from the wall with one foot and walks forward. “Sure thing.”

All six of us watch closely, our heads swinging with him as he begins pacing the room.

“As you may or may not know, USFWS has been working to reintroduce the red wolves back into North Carolina for the last several years. Last summer, we released two functioning packs into the surrounding area. With the harsh weather coming, we want to check on them before the mountain becomes impassable. So you guys will be charged with finding the packs and tracking their progress.”

Skyler pipes up. “Why a bunch of kids?”

Katie sits on the desk. “Unfortunately, we only have so many volunteers, so we need extra hands on deck. We thought it would be a great experience for students to get extra credit while learning about these wonderful animals our state is struggling to protect.”

“And why now?” Skyler says. “Can’t it wait until spring?”

Katie shakes her head. “As far as timing, I think we’ve explained that the winter is supposed to get worse after the holidays. We want to check on our wolves before deciding if we need to extract them. This will be their first winter outside the reserve. Not to mention a bad one.”

Seth raises his hand. “Why do wolves need to be reintroduced in the first place?”

Porter presses down his mustache with two fingers. “Good question. Anyone want to take a stab?”

Madison closes her book and raises her hand. “The red wolf is one of the most endangered species in the nation. Not to be confused with its cousin, the
Canis lupus
or gray wolf that lives out West. The red wolf population was pretty much demolished in the 1960s.”

Even Porter looks amazed as Katie claps. “Excellent research, Madison.”

Madison beams as Agent Sweeney adds, “In 1980, the last seventeen red wolves were rescued and placed into a captivity breeding program. The USFWS declared the red wolf extinct in the wild and started what is now known as the Reintroduction Program in North Carolina’s Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge.”

I sit still, soaking in the information, processing everything. I had no idea these creatures were practically extinct. I guess I hear so much about gray wolves, I never think about the red ones. Sadness fills my chest, wondering if Dad knew how close these gorgeous animals were to being nonexistent right here in our very own state.

Skyler raises her nail file in the air as if it’s a sword. “If the weather is too bad for wolves, isn’t it too bad for us?”

I try not to exhale my exasperation at Skyler’s attempts to avoid going outside for a nature project.

Agent Sweeney folds his arms across his chest. “Now is the time before it gets really bad.”

Everyone’s hands go up at once.

Porter holds up both of his. “I put together a slide show for you. Maybe that will answer more of your questions.”

Katie dims the lights as Porter fiddles with a laptop. For being an old man, he seems to know his way around computers. Birdee’s idea of “booting up” means getting her shoes on for a bird-watching hike. He picks up the remote and begins clicking through slides of red wolves – a mom playing with her pups, a male dragging in a kill.

As he flips through the pictures, he spews out facts like an online encyclopedia. “Today, there are about 100 wolves roaming this state. About forty of them were released.”