Backcountry Page 9

  Slashing his hand through the air, he cut off her expression of sympathy. “It gets worse. I didn’t even get the name of the buyer.” His forehead puckered. “It was just some guy. He said his name was Robert, and he gave me cash.”

  “Jeez, Chris.” She was appalled on multiple levels. Did people sell guns that casually all the time?

  Moving his hand to the back of his neck, he massaged the muscles there as he stared over her shoulder into the distance. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking. I bought ‘em that way, no papers or anything. But my friends, well, I guess they told the cops I had ‘em, because we’ve been out target shooting together a few times. And when I told Detective Greene all this, I could tell she didn’t really believe me.”

  Detective Greene again. Sam had to meet the woman as soon as she could, find out where this investigation was headed. But the odds were not good that anyone in the Snohomish County Sheriff’s Department would talk to her; she didn’t even live in their jurisdiction. “I’m not sure what I can do, Chris, but if Greene asks—”

  “Oh, she’s asking everyone about everything. Remember about a week before Kyla’s birthday, when we were all in the Kickin’ A?”

  When they were in town, Sam and Kyla, and once in a while even Kim, went to the saloon to take western line dance lessons. Sometimes Chris showed up, too, to shoot pool, drink beer, and two-step with Kyla.

  “Yes,” Sam said, although she couldn’t put a finger on the exact date Chris was talking about. She had a whole group of line dance friends, and she always sat and chatted with whoever was there on any given evening.

  “Greene’s been out there, asking the manager and the staff about all of us. She even got hold of a photo of you and me sitting at a table with our heads together while everyone else was dancing.”

  “Really?” Sam didn’t remember a moment like that.

  “Greene showed it to me. She wouldn’t say who took the picture, but I’m guessing it was that girl Janey.”

  “Jamie,” Sam corrected. Jamie was a regular at Kickin’ A. She lived for drama and was always spreading rumors about who was lusting after whom, stirring up trouble wherever she could. Sam avoided her as much as possible.

  “Like I said, it was about a week before Kyla’s birthday. She was on the dance floor and I was asking you what I should get her.”

  Sam nodded. “Now I remember.”

  “Greene asked what you and I had going on.”

  Shit. Was Detective Greene working on some sort of conspiracy theory? First asking Blake and Troy about Sam’s new job as field guide, and now inventing an affair between her and Chris? Sam imagined what Greene would make of them sitting here together right now.

  She exhaled slowly and rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension there. “Thank God I have an FBI agent for an alibi.”

  Chris’s attention was still focused on her, his blue eyes shiny, his lips tight with worry.

  “Weren’t you already gone fishing?” she asked. Neither of them could bring themselves to talk openly about the day Kyla and Kim were murdered, but it was almost more painful to talk around it like this.

  “The boat left Bellingham that evening. At the time...” He paused, ducked his head, ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “I was home. Alone.”

  “Dammit, Chris.”

  His chin jerked up. “Kyla told me she was going hiking with her mom. I had to pack; we’d already said our goodbyes. I knew I wouldn’t see her until I got back. I didn’t know I would never see her again.” On the last word, his voice cracked and he raised a fist to his lips, then bent his head and closed his eyes. Opening his fist, he spread his fingers, pressing against his closed eyelids.

  “Chris, stop, or in a second you’ll have me crying.” She rested a hand on his knee. “Thanks for telling me all this. I’ll do what I can to set the record straight. I know you’d never hurt Kyla or Kim.”

  A tiny gremlin nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her she knew no such thing. She ignored it. If Chris had ever been violent with her friend, surely Kyla would have ditched him.

  “Thanks.” He took a shaky breath, and then stood up. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “I appreciate it.” They started back up the trail to the lake.

  “How long do you think this counseling stuff is going to take?” he asked.

  “Probably most of the day,” she guessed. “You can just hang with the rest of us till David’s done.” She pondered that for a minute. “Say, are you good at knot tying?”

  “Couldn’t work on a boat otherwise.”

  She stopped and turned to him. “I’m supposed to teach the kids outdoor skills every day. We have plenty of clothesline we can cut up. Could you show the kids how to tie some knots?”

  “Love to.” He actually smiled, revealing a dimple in his right cheek, and Sam remembered how much younger he’d looked before Kyla’s death.

  The crew kids were fascinated by the newcomer. They vied for Chris’s attention, striving to achieve the fastest, most perfect bowline, half-hitch, and more complicated trucker’s hitch. As one teen came back from a counseling session, Aidan or Maya would show that kid what he or she had missed. By three p.m., all of the kids had been through their one-on-one sessions with David Berg. Chris was enthralling them with harrowing stories about fishing in the Bering Sea when Berg pulled Sam away for a private chat.

  “How’d it go?” She wanted him to reassure her that she was doing an adequate job as field guide.

  “About like I expected. Gabriel is an open book, although it’s a pretty kooky open book.”

  They both chuckled.

  “But the rest of them?” David shook his head. “None are ready to give up all their secrets yet.”

  “Am I supposed to find a way to make them do that?”

  “No. Just be grateful that you don’t have to deal with the families, too. Speaking of which...” He waved at Chris and pointed to their backpacks, now emptied of the supplies they’d carried. “Don’t forget to ask the crew about their feelings, and make them write in their journals and share tonight. It’s important.”

  “I’m on it.”

  The two visitors buckled on their packs. Sam said goodbye, thanked Chris for making the trip, and wished him a safe outing on his next fishing expedition.

  He grimaced. “That assumes I make it back to Alaska.”

  As soon as the two visitors had left, Sam sat all the kids down, asking them how they felt about talking to a counselor. The opinion was unanimous: they were angry.

  Justin picked up a rock and lobbed it hard toward the lake, where it splashed into the shallows. “I’m pissed.”

  “Me, too,” Taylor said.

  Nick crossed his arms, his expression irritated. “We were having a good time out here.”

  Ashley glared at Sam. “And then up comes the lurik shrink, bringing up all the shit again.”

  Sam frowned back at her.

  “Shit is not a swear word,” the girl snarled. “Crap isn’t a swear word, so why should shit be?”

  “Why can’t you just leave us alone?” Olivia whined.

  Sam wanted to tell them that the counseling visits weren’t her idea; that she would have been happy to simply lead them around the mountains and revel in nature for three weeks. But that wasn’t the job. “The program is structured this way.”

  “You could unstructure it,” Justin suggested.

  “And like, add some better food.” Gabriel, naturally.

  “Here’s the thing, crew,” Sam explained to the circle of sullen faces. “I’m thrilled that you’re enjoying being out here, but none of us can stay forever. We all have to go back to our regular lives. That’s why you’re supposed to work out a contract with your families.”

  Groans all around.

  “What’s the most important thing about a contract?” she asked per her instructions. It made her feel like the proverbial high school substitute who asked stupid questions. The clueless
teacher everyone made fun of.

  She was rewarded by six stony glares.

  “What’s the most important thing about a contract?” she repeated. “I’m going to keep asking until someone answers.”

  Gabriel gave in. “Both sides have to promise something to the other.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel. So think about what you want your families to promise you, and what you are promising them in return.” She waited a beat for that to sink in, and then told them, “Tonight after dinner is sharing time.”

  More groans.

  “No more gex feelings,” Justin complained. “I’m all felt out.” He shot a suggestive sideways glance at Ashley. “I’d rather be felt up.”

  Maya jumped in. “Sharing doesn’t have to be talking about feelings, although that’s always good. You can write something to share, or lead a song, or dance, or...well, whatever.” She spread out her hands to demonstrate how wide open sharing could be.

  “Stories and jokes are good, too,” Aidan added.

  Sam straightened. “Until dinner, you are free to write in your journals and think about what you want to share with everyone. Tell staff if you’re leaving this group area, and stay where we can see you.”

  They all rose, issuing complaints as they separated.

  “Sharing? Gex that.” On his way back to this tent, Justin kicked a tree to punctuate the statement.

  “I told Berg he needed to get his own shit together,” Taylor told Gabriel.

  Parking her butt on the ground and her back against a log, Sam made a few notes in her own journal and kept an eye on the crew as they scattered.

  After each had pulled his or her journal out of a tent, the six kids huddled to discuss something. Sam couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Taylor seemed to be the initiator, or maybe it was Gabriel. Aidan watched them from a distance and didn’t seem concerned.

  Maya lowered herself to the ground next to her. Sam fretted about what sort of conspiracy might be hatching. “It was all going so well before... I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Leaning her head close, Maya murmured, “This has happened after every counseling visit on the trips I’ve been on. Didn’t make any difference who was in charge.”

  Nick and Ashley retreated together to the far side of the lake with journals in hand. The other four chatted for a few minutes, and then Olivia and Gabriel ducked into their tents while Taylor and Justin picked out spots along the near shore with their journals in their laps.

  The conspiracy turned out to be haikus for sharing that evening. That was unexpected; Sam would not have predicted that most of these kids knew what a haiku was. As they formed a semicircle around a small fire, she nearly asked permission to record their performances, but then realized they’d rebel if they knew the sound track was destined for the Wilderness Quest counselors back in the office. Reaching into her pocket, she surreptitiously clicked on the recorder as Haiku Night began.

  Gabriel volunteered to go first. He stood up, lending his performance a more dramatic tone. “The sky is so vast, the bright stars are infinite, and I am so small.”

  All was quiet for a moment as he sat down again.

  “Powerful,” Ashley complimented him.

  Sam agreed. Mister Lizard could be eloquent when he wanted to be.

  “Me next.” Taylor pushed herself to her feet. “I wrote this for my parents.” She positioned herself on center stage, just beyond the fire. “I’m tall and I’m strong. Strong enough to say you’re wrong. I will be myself.”

  “Right on, Sweet T!” Justin waved a fist.

  Olivia rocked forward into the firelight. “You tell ‘em, Taylor.”

  Next up was Justin, who prefaced his performance by saying, “I need two, to tell the whole story. The first is about my girlfriend, Anna.” He scrubbed his spiky blond whiskers with dirt-rimed fingers as he chanted, “Oh, baby, baby; I miss your soft silky lips; but I’m on a trip.”

  Nick choked down a laugh.

  “Yeah, baby!” Gabriel snapped his fingers twice. Sam didn’t know whether he intended to imitate beatniks or an old television show or something else.

  Justin smiled, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Here’s the second.” He counted off the syllables by touching his thumb to his fingers as he said, “You ain’t seen nothin’, until you’ve see the somethins, that I’ve seen out here.” He turned toward Sam to check her response.

  “I’m impressed,” she told him.

  “Yay, Justice!” Taylor nodded in his direction.

  So now Justin had a nickname, too. Sam wondered who had come up with that one.

  Olivia shot to her feet. “Here goes.” She studied her toes for a long minute, then raised her head and peered off into the trees above their heads. “I’m finding myself; with goats, whisky jacks, and friends; you won’t stop me now.”

  She stepped around the fire back to her place. “That was for my parents, in case you couldn’t guess.” Then she shook her head. “No, maybe it’s for the whole world.”

  Ashley patted her on the back, and Nick leaned toward Olivia. “That was really good, Martini.”

  There was an awkward pause while all her crew regarded each other uncertainly.

  “Nick? Ashley?” Sam named the two who hadn’t yet spoken.

  Nick reluctantly rose to one knee, and then to his feet. “Well, I don’t want to go last, because I’m pretty darn sure this is crap.”

  “Was that it?” Aidan snickered. “Very original.”

  Nick shot him an exasperated look.

  Maya counted off the words on her fingers. “That was seventeen syllables.”

  They all laughed. Nick’s face grew dusky with embarrassment.

  “Okay,” he told them. “Now for my second haiku.” He shook out his hands, cleared his throat, and then began. “I never meant to, I’ve done some terrible things, want to make it right.”

  That instantly sobered the group into an uncomfortable silence.

  Sam interjected, “Thanks for saying what we all feel sometimes, Nick.”

  The boy’s eyes were glistening with tears when he sat down. Of all her crew, Nick seemed by far the most sensitive. Or at least the most sad. She’d need to be sure he didn’t start cutting again. Ashley patted Nick’s arm, and then stood up.

  “And now, for the final piece of crap.” She strode to the other side of the fire, and motioned to Justin, Gabriel, and Maya as she said, “Gex, lurik, meekam, perfect words for my past life.” She folded her hands together and bent her neck in a thank-you gesture, then raised her head and focused on the distance as she finished, “Now I look ahead.”

  Flattening one hand on her diaphragm and one behind her back, she bowed dramatically, the purple tips of her hair dipping briefly into the firelight. Everyone clapped.

  “That was wonderful, crew,” Sam told them. “I could listen to this every night. You are all natural poets.”

  Maya clasped her hands around her knees, grinning. “That’s the absolute best sharing I’ve heard out here.”

  Aidan agreed, and then reminded them, “We’ve been here two nights; that’s enough rest. Early wakeup tomorrow for a long hike.”

  Sam clicked off the recorder as they all stood up to disperse for bed. The evening would have been perfect if only Kyla had been here.

  * * * * *

  Chase was frustrated. Sitting at the desk in his hotel room, he reviewed the slides on his laptop, committing the images to memory. Twice he had failed to spot vital pieces of bomb-making material in the staged scenarios. If he was ever called upon to save a crowd from a potential explosion, he’d probably be standing right next to a parking meter or a water fountain when it blew him to confetti along with everything else in the area. He was glad that none of his colleagues from Salt Lake was in his training group. Tomorrow was the last day of practice, and he had to do better. He had to stop thinking about Sam and her murdered friends and focus.

  At least she wasn’t in a foreign country this
time, but she was in a remote camp in the wilderness. With juvenile delinquents who had God knows what kind of criminal records. Was she always going to embroil herself in dangerous situations so far from any help? Whoever had killed her friends was still out there. He called up the latest data on the murder investigation and read through it. There were several troubling entries. He texted Sam, asking her to call when she could.

  His cell buzzed as he was brushing his teeth. “Querida,” he breathed into the phone, then spat into the bathroom sink.

  “Was that some sort of sexy Lakota greeting you’ve never told me about? Express your love, and then spit to ward off evil spirits or something?”

  “Sorry.” He wiped his mouth on a towel. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to hear that. Toothpaste.”

  “How goes your training?”

  “You know those Kevlar Michelin Man suits that the bomb guys wear? I’m ordering one for everyone I know. I’ll do my best to find a petite size for you.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

  If she wanted to believe he was perfect, who was he to shatter her illusions? “How’s the Camping with Criminals program going?”

  “They’re more troubled kids than actual criminals.” She sighed. “I think we’re mostly moving in the right direction. At least I hope so. Chase, have you had a chance to check into the murder investigation?”

  “Yeah. Ever since you told me, I’ve been keeping up with the case. Since it’s on federal land, the file is available to the FBI.”

  She interrupted him with, “I saw Chris today, and he said a deputy was after him. So they haven’t zeroed in on anyone yet?”

  “Not yet.” He didn’t like the fact that a prime suspect now knew exactly where she was camped. “Summer, he’s the reason I texted you. I want you to beware of Christopher Rawlins. He has a record. Assault and battery in a bar fight five years ago, illegal weapons discharge before that, along with possession of enough pot that he was probably selling it.”

  “Before pot was legal,” she guessed.

  “Obviously. But it’s not legal everywhere, and it’s not legal to sell it anywhere without a license.” According to federal law, it still wasn’t legal to sell marijuana anywhere in the nation, but he wasn’t going to get into that sticky issue now.