Wolf Stalker (10 page)

“Pictures? What pictures?” George Campbell asked loudly.

“We got lots of pictures. We got pictures of the wolf, and of you aiming that laser sight right at Jack,” Troy hollered. “Holding a gun on a kid! How's that gonna sound on talk radio?”

The big man reeled backward. “Don't be crazy! I'd never shoot a kid!”

“We got proof. We saw you, and we heard you, and we got it on film. You shooting Silver in your blue plaid shirt.” It seemed as if Troy's fury would split his skin.

“My…shirt?” George Campbell's eyes darted around the room before glancing down. He hurriedly shoved his shirttail into his pants.

“It was you,” Ashley cried. “I saw you in the binoculars! You tried to kill Silver.”

“Now look, maybe you got pictures of me with a gun, but I swear, shootin' the wolf—that was—uh, accidental. The gun went off when it bumped against a tree,” Campbell said, speaking not to Ashley, but to Olivia and Steven as though kids didn't matter; only adults needed explanations. “You say you got a picture of that?”

“Accidental? We got pictures of you pointing the gun at Jack!” Troy yelled. “You could have blown a hole right through him!”

Campbell whipped around to face the boys. “Nah, it wasn't anything like that. See, what I was doin'—” Again he turned toward Steven and Olivia, declaring, “I was just usin' my rifle's spotting scope like a telescope 'cause I heard someone yellin' and I was tryin' to see who it was. A spotting scope—you know—magnifies. The laser sight wasn't even on.”

“Sure it was,” Jack said hotly. His anger mounted, too, as Campbell tried to worm out of what he'd done. This man, who'd almost killed Silver and could have killed Jack himself, was lying right to their faces. “Your laser sight showed up real clear in the pictures I took yesterday when you shot the wolf.”

Bluffing, he held his father's camera high. “See this lens? It can focus a quarter of a mile away. Right, Dad?”

“Yeah. That's right.” Steven replied haltingly, as though he wasn't sure what his lines were supposed to be in this scene, but he hoped he was getting them right. “It's a special lens for long-distance nature photography,” he said. He didn't add that he'd never dream of letting Jack use that expensive lens by himself, and that the camera Jack had yesterday was nothing more than a little point-and-shoot that couldn't even zoom.

Jack could hardly believe what was happening! First Olivia had bluffed, and now the rest of them were faking it, too, and somehow they'd stumbled onto the unexpected fact that George Campbell had been there, yesterday, pointing a gun when Silver got shot! And the man was admitting it!

“Look folks, it was all accidental! I swear! I'll stand before a judge and so-help-me-God I'll tell him I never meant to shoot that wolf—”

“You're lying! Our pictures prove you meant to kill Silver,” Ashley cried, jumping up and waving the prints. “We got the red dot right here—”

“Don't show him!” Jack yelled, but it was one of those times when Ashley decided to ignore her brother.

“No!” Jack cried. He lunged at her, but it was too late. She'd already handed the prints to Campbell.

“What? These?” As he shuffled the prints—one, two, three—like winning cards in a poker hand, Campbell laughed out loud.

“You call this evidence? You can't see nothin' in those pictures.” Striding across the room, he pulled open the door of the wood-burning stove and tossed them inside.

“We still have the negatives,” Jack said defiantly.

Campbell left the stove door open. Heat from the flames reflected in his face as he turned on them and roared, “You can't fool me. You're not from the newspaper! This is a government conspiracy. You come in here with fake pictures that say I shot a wolf—well, I say—prove it! In court! Half the hunters in this state own laser sights on their rifles, and you couldn't tell it was me anyways 'cause I was standing way back in the trees and I don't even show in those pictures. I'll deny it all. You got nothing on me!”

Surrounded by his animal heads, seeming to grow larger in the flickering shadows like a villain in a bad movie, George Campbell sneered, “So how you gonna prove anything, huh?”

No one answered, because they all knew the answer, all except George Campbell. Suddenly he figured it out, too. As he focused on the tape recorder in Olivia's hand, his eyes grew wide. “Hey! Give me that thing!” he bellowed.

He lunged toward Olivia. Before Steven could unwind himself from the sagging sofa, Troy and Jack leaped in front of Campbell, blocking him. “This is my house,” Campbell screamed. “You can't come in here and—I'm a law-abiding citizen! I want that tape recorder, or you're not getting out of here.”

“Are you threatening us?” Olivia asked him, jumping up.

Steven was on his feet too, swerving in front of her to protect her.

George Campbell weighed more than Troy and Jack put together. For a few seconds the big man strained against them, pushing forward as the boys struggled to hold him back. He was so tall….

“Give—me—that—tape,” Campbell grunted.

Jack tried to grip his arm, but Campbell clutched him and yanked Jack back against his armpit, nearly choking him. “Hey—let me go!” Jack's yelling was muffled as Campbell squeezed him tighter.

“Let go of them!” Steven demanded, grappling with Campbell, trying to break his hold on the boys.

“OW! Dang it!” Campbell yelled and swore, because Troy was stomping on his foot. In a sudden move he butted both boys with his shoulders, knocking them loose so that they staggered. At the same time he shoved Steven hard. But before he could push past Steven to reach Olivia, Ashley grabbed the tape recorder from her mother's hand. Quick as lightning, she dashed across the room and yanked open the door.

On the porch she nearly collided with Mike, who was on his way in.

“What's goin' on here?” Mike cried.

“He shot the wolf!”

“We got it on tape.”

“Good thing you're here—”

One voice yelled, “They're all lyin'!”

Everyone was shouting at once, but Mike raised his hand and said, “Hold it! I've already got the sheriff's office on the line.”

He held Olivia's cellular phone next to his face with his left hand as he pointed to George Campbell with his right. “They were real interested when I told them about that pickup truck full of antlers I saw out back.”

“You searched my property!” George Campbell screamed. “You can't do that without a warrant.”

“I didn't open anything, didn't touch anything, just happened to notice. The sheriff'll be the one to investigate, and he'll be out here any minute with your warrant. But that truck—my, my! Loaded with deer antlers, elk antlers, moose racks,” Mike went on. “That's what you were doing in Yellowstone—gathering horn. Unlawful, buddy, and you know it. And now you topped it off by shooting a wolf?” Mike shook his head and clucked his tongue. “You're in a world of hurt, man.”

“You can't prove anything,” Campbell sneered.

Mike rocked back on his heels, pushing against Ashley, who'd taken refuge behind him. “Wanna bet?” He grinned. “For starters, we've been marking certain antlers with fluorescent paint for a couple of years now just to catch thieves like you.” To Steven, he said, “He must have a few hundred pounds of horn out there. It sells for ten bucks a pound around here, but a whole lot more than that when it gets shipped to Asia. He's going to need every penny to pay a lawyer.”

Headlights bumped up and down as a sheriff's cruiser navigated the narrow rutted drive toward the ranch house.

At that point George Campbell must have realized it would be smart to keep his mouth shut. He glowered at everyone, but he didn't speak another word.

I
t was ten o'clock at night, but after all the excitement, no one was the least bit sleepy. As the van headed back toward Yellowstone Park, everyone inside tried to talk at the same time.

“What is a laser sight?” Ashley demanded. “I don't even know.”

Steven answered her. “It's a targeting device that beams a narrow red light on whatever the hunter's aiming at. The hunter takes aim through his spotting scope, turns on the laser sight, and whatever that red dot lands on—that's exactly where the bullet's going to hit when he squeezes the trigger. It's deadly accurate.”

“How'd you know about it, Troy?” Jack asked.

“You can put 'em on handguns, too. Back in my old neighborhood, a lot of guys used them.”

“Oh.”

No one commented, but Jack wondered if they were thinking what he was—that it would be tough to live in a neighborhood where people ran around carrying guns. Using guns. Where a small red dot on a shirt front would mark where a bullet was about to rip through someone's chest.

“Still,” Olivia told Troy, “it was very smart of you to connect the red lights on the pictures with the laser sight on Campbell's rifle.”

“Yeah,” Troy agreed. “But Jack's the one who snowed him about the camera lens. That was cool.”

“What about me?” Ashley asked. “I bet George Campbell would have tossed Mom's recorder right into the fire!”

Troy nodded. “You did good, too.”

“So what's going to happen to Campbell?” Jack wanted to know.

Mike answered, “I'm not sure yet. Carrying a gun and bringing a dog into the park—they're just misdemeanors. Picking up antlers and taking them out of the park to sell—that's a bigger crime. But shooting a wolf, an endangered species—that's a big-time federal offense. We'll build a real tight case against him.”

“Want to hear my theory about what really happened?” Olivia asked.

When they all answered yes, she said, “Here's the way I reconstruct it. Campbell was in the park gathering horn, letting his dog run loose. Silver and his mate were nearby, probably minding their own business.” Olivia paused. “He said a wolf pack attacked his dog, but I don't believe that.”

“Why, Mom?” Jack asked.

“I think Silver and his mate had just recently broken away from their old pack to start a new pack of their own. That's what happens when young, strong, smart wolves mate. After they have pups, it will be the beginning of a new wolf pack in Yellowstone.”

“Ooooh! Can we come back and see the pups next year?” Ashley exclaimed.

“If…things work out.” Olivia looked back at Ashley as if she'd been about to say more, but decided against it.

Jack was pretty sure he knew what his mother was thinking. If! If Silver survived, and became healthy enough to hunt food for his mate and the pups, there'd be a new pack in Yellowstone. But Silver might never be strong enough again to hunt, even for himself.

“Go on with your theory, Olivia,” Steven urged her.

“Well, I think Campbell's dog saw the two wolves—just those two, not a whole pack—and decided to chase them. The dog, Rex, chased the wolves—not the other way around. Campbell took the first shot that hit Silver's collar. Then Silver and his mate turned on the dog and killed it, and that's when Rex's hair got stuck on the ripped-up part of the collar.”

“So why didn't he shoot Silver again, right then?” Troy asked.

Jack guessed the answer to that one. “Too scared. He thought the wolves would turn around and come after him next. He made a run for it.”

“Yeah, he ran straight to my office to scream about his dog being killed,” Mike said. “Right off, he demanded money for it. Made up that story about Rex being chased across the boundary, and lied some more when he showed me the wrong place on the map. I told Campbell the park's budget wasn't set up to pay for a pet's death. That got him really mad.”

Troy took over. “He's not getting money, so the guy wants revenge. The next day he comes gunning for Silver. He's got this laser sight on his rifle, he takes aim, and—pow! Nearly kills Silver.”

“Oh man!” Mike slapped the steering wheel. “Are we gonna nail Campbell good! The first time he shot Silver, when the bullet hit the radio collar, well, he can probably weasel out of that one. He'll probably claim self-defense. But coming back a day later to intentionally shoot an endangered-species animal—that's a major criminal violation. It's clearly against the law. George Campbell's gonna see some serious jail time.”

“I hope so,” Troy said. “He should fry for what he did to Silver. He hurt a wolf that didn't do nothin' but protect itself.”

“‘Fry' might be a little strong, don't you think?” Olivia asked.

Shrugging, Troy said, “Whatever. The thing I'm saying is, I hope George Campbell gets what's coming to him. If he gets slammed, that'll be fair. It usually doesn't work out like that. Not in my life, anyway.”

Jack didn't know what to answer to that. Was Troy remembering his father and the way he just walked away in his expensive jacket? Or maybe he was picturing his mother. Jack's parents fell silent as if they, too, were searching for the right words. The silence stretched out.

Jack stared outside, at the inky blackness and the trees that whizzed by him like the teeth on a comb. Every once in a while two headlights would appear, beaming into the van before swooshing by.

Ashley yawned. “I'm tired. How much farther?”

“About 15 more minutes,” Mike replied.

With a sigh, Ashley curled herself against the side of the door and fell asleep immediately. Her head rolled gently as the van bumped along.

“I can't believe your sister zoned like that,” Troy whispered. “One minute she was talking, and the next—” He snapped his fingers. “She's out. I wish I could do that. Every night I stay up, worrying until my mom gets home. That's the only time I can sleep. When she's home.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Jack lied. Because the truth was, he never worried about such things when he burrowed down beneath his covers. School and basketball practice and thoughts like that might gnaw at him, but that was it. He never once considered that his mother might not come back.

He looked at her, wedged between his father and Mike in the front seat. Olivia's dark hair was haloed by the light of another oncoming car. In his mind Jack saw himself waiting by the front door, pacing like Troy must have done, staring down the clock or willing the phone to ring with a message from his mom. He imagined himself wandering into his mother's bedroom, looking at the clothes in her closet, running his hand along T-shirts and jackets and blouses hanging like empty shells. If his mom died…Jack shuddered, trying to pull his thoughts to a better place. Then he realized that he could do that because his mother was right there, murmuring something soft into his father's ear. But not for Troy. Troy's mother really was gone.

Once again Jack realized the only thing that separated his life from Troy's was pure luck. Luck that he had a dad who patiently taught him how to take pictures, luck with a mother who sang crazy songs from the sixties when she made him breakfast, who could sew up a rabbit's trap-gnawed foot or pull porcupine quills from a dog's nose. Luck with his sister. Yeah, Jack thought, he had luck, lots of it. It wasn't fair, that he had so much and Troy had so little.

“Hey, Troy,” he said, “I was just thinking. When we get back to Jackson Hole, maybe…maybe I could help you find your mom.”

“Help me?” Troy's eyes narrowed. “How?”

What could he say to that? The words had come out of his mouth before he'd really made a plan. He'd just wanted to show Troy that he was on his side now, ready to help him the way Troy had helped the wolf.

“I don't know exactly,” Jack stammered. He scrambled through ideas that he considered and then discarded. Finally he whispered, “Call a detective, maybe?”

“Detectives cost money.”

Jack could fill in the rest of what Troy was thinking. Detectives cost money, and Troy didn't have any.

Softly, so his parents couldn't hear, Jack told him, “Look, I've got $163 saved up for a new camera lens. We could use that. If you thought it was enough.”

“It isn't,” Troy answered. Then, a beat later, he added, “But thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“What are you two whispering about back there?” It was Steven, twisting so he could see them.

“Nothing.”

“Well, I want to go over our plans for tomorrow. First thing in the morning, we're going to—”

A high-pitched trill rang in the front seat. The sound startled all of them. Olivia flipped open her portable phone and said “Yes?”

She listened, and said, “Oh, hi, Nicole,” then told Mike softly, “It's Nicole from your office. What's that, Nicole? No. No, I haven't received a call in the last half hour.”

“What's happening?” Ashley asked, groggy.

“Just a phone call,” Jack told her.

For a second, Olivia's eyes flicked onto the rear-view mirror. She was watching Troy. “What time was that? Uh huh. Did they say any more than that?” Another pause, and then, “Can you give me the number? Hold on a sec. Steven, do you have something to write on? Could you take this down for me?”

As she repeated a string of numbers, Steven scratched them onto a sheet of paper and read them back. Then Olivia closed up the phone. “That was Nicole,” she told them. She paused, as if searching for the right words.

Troy stared intently.

“Park headquarters had a message from Jackson Hole. They're trying to contact you, Troy. It's about your mother.”

Something inside Jack pushed into his throat and filled it so that he could hardly breathe. He could see Troy's fingers dig into his thighs.

“What about my mom?” His words sounded tight. “Did they find her? Is she—is she OK?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know? Who was it that called?” Troy's voice rose higher. “Was it Social Services?”

Ashley was wide awake by now. Olivia shook her head.

“The police?”

“Yes.”

Troy blinked hard. “The police called? Okay—then, call them! You got the number! Call them right now!”

“I can't—”

“Then give me that stupid little phone and I'll do it!” Troy was yelling now. Ashley tried to pat his arm, but he wrenched away.

“I'm sorry, Troy, my cell phone just won't reach that far out of the area. We'll have to wait until we get to a regular telephone.”

“No! I want to—”

“Troy,” Steven broke in, his voice soothing. “Listen to me. We're only a few miles from the hotel. We'll make the call the second we get there. Okay? Just hold on until we know more.”

Yeah, Jack echoed in his mind. Come on, Troy. Just hold on.

Even before the van completely stopped at the curb, Troy and Steven bolted out and disappeared into the lobby of the Mammoth Springs Hotel. “I want to go, too,” Jack cried, but his mother held him back.

“You stay here,” she said. “Give them a chance to find out…whatever they're going to find out.”

In silence the four of them—Mike and Olivia, Jack and Ashley—waited in the van, staring through the window at the big front doors of the hotel, wondering what was happening behind those doors.

“Do you think Troy's mom is dead?” Ashley whispered, clinging to her mother's hand.

“Hush,” Olivia replied.

The minutes stretched out longer than Jack could tolerate. “Sorry, I can't deal with this,” he cried as he slid open the van's rear door and jumped out. “Troy might need me.”

“You're right,” Olivia agreed. “We'll all go in.”

They saw Steven facing a bank of pay phones. With one finger pressed to his ear, he nodded, then turned and handed the phone to Troy.

Jack couldn't see their faces—just their backs.

Please, Jack said inside his head. Please!

Suddenly, Troy whirled around. A smile wide enough to split his cheeks in half spread across his face as he shouted, “Mom! Mom—are you OK?”

Above Troy's head, Steven nodded at Olivia. “It's all right,” he called out. “She's going to be fine.”

“Oh, thank God,” Olivia breathed.

“The police found her,” Steven told them, hurrying over. “I guess she took a drive up the mountains in the rain, and spun out and slid down a ravine into some trees. Her car was so far down that nobody saw her.” Shaking his head, he told them, “She was pinned in her car the whole time.”

“Was she hurt bad?” Ashley asked.

“Her leg is broken and she was pretty cold, but the doctors said she's doing OK.”

“How did she—How—” Jack stumbled for words. “Wasn't she starving? It's been so long.”

“Four days. Luckily, she'd gone to the supermarket right before the drive, and she had the groceries on the front seat beside her. She ate hot dogs and drank soda pop for four days. Can you imagine, being pinned and knowing cars were going by and no one could see you and there was no one to help? The only reason the police found her was because she'd blow the car horn about every hour. She knew enough to space the horn blasts so it wouldn't run the battery down. I guess she's a smart lady. And pretty tough.”

Troy's voice drifted over to them. “Yeah, I'm with the Landons. I'm fine. Don't worry, Mom, they took good care of me. I even saved a wolf!”

“You know what? This means Troy was right all along,” Jack told them. “His mother didn't leave him.”

Pulling him close, his own mother said into his hair, “What could be better for any child? He's going home.”