“You owe me nothing. I did it for myself.”
“I will remember.” Miss Lee strode from the cabin.
Petie walked to the window.
Miss Lee walked down the steps to Hawley, who stood beside his jeep. He’d no doubt figured he would need to clean up the blood before any of the guests found out about Petie’s murder.
Miss Lee spoke to him.
Hawley heaved himself in the driver’s seat.
Miss Lee slid into the passenger’s seat.
They drove up the road toward the airstrip.
They left Petie standing in the luxurious room and wondering—did Jeen Lee mean she would remember the debt, or remember Petie’s comment?
6
THE CINNAMON-COLORED MOTHER bear came out of the forest, lean from hibernation, from giving birth and from nursing her young.
Miska saw her first and sounded the alarm. At first, none of the fisherfolk in waders in the river noticed the loud, melodious chime.
But Petie noticed.
This bear looked hungry, impatient, and she was moving fast.
Rifle in hand, Petie strode quickly to the riverbank and gestured for the guests to come out. As the people looked around and saw the bear, they complied, eyes wide and terrified.
Bears looked a lot bigger when they weren’t in a zoo surrounded by bars.
Some guests brought their fishing gear. Some abandoned theirs. Midnight Sun Fishing Camp always lost gear when they had a wildlife run-in. That was, Hawley said, the cost of doing business. Better that than a loss of life, which would reflect badly on Midnight Sun.
More employees—Taylor, Fred, Lucas, Addison—arrived from the lodge, driving jeeps and trucks, picking up guests as they fled the danger. Everyone was aware, everyone was obedient—except Bradley Copeland.
Of course. It had to be him.
Copeland hadn’t cared about fishing until five days ago, when his colleague had pulled the biggest salmon ever caught at the lodge, a fifty-two-pound salmon. The celebration and admiration had snagged Copeland’s attention, and he’d boasted he could do better. The people born and raised on Quemada didn’t scoff at his claims—as some of the world’s consummate businesspeople, they had raised tact to a high art—but the Brit and the Canadian hadn’t bothered to contain their grins.
When Copeland ruffled up like a banty cock and demanded they explain themselves, Arjun Patel offered a bet Copeland couldn’t catch a thirty-pound—he lowered it mockingly, no, a twenty-five pound—salmon before the week was out.
As Copeland realized everyone was laughing at him, he fell into a froth. Him, the golden boy who knew everything, who his mama had raised to be worshipped and admired!
Bradley Copeland reminded Petie of her father.
She really disliked Copeland.
But leaving him to be eaten would be bad for business and...and she didn’t like the look of death. She remembered all too clearly the look of death. And the smell. And the horror.
There, against the far back wall of the basement, in the darkest corner, white plastic covered a dark lump of...something. Something that oozed fluid toward the floor drain.
Petie’s eyes hurt from the smell and the effort of holding them wide, from never blinking. She took care not to step in the dark puddle and reached out, far out, to grasp the corner of the plastic, pull it back, and see—
The sound of the alarm yanked Petie back from the old horror and into the present. The tuneful tones that were meant to soothe the wildlife wasn’t working on the female bear.
In the river, Copeland fought to bring his fish to the net and ignored the chime for all he was worth.
For Petie, the world, normally encompassed by snowy mountains, a sandy shore, a loud, icy, rushing river, narrowed to focus on the bear and on Copeland, the oblivious fool who stood braced against the river’s flow and the salmon’s fight.
The bear waded toward him intent on dining on salmon—and human.
“Get out!” Petie shouted at Copeland again and again. “Get out! She’s coming for you! You’re in danger!”
Without glancing up, he shouted, “Shoot her!”
Fury surged. Petie’s heartbeat roared louder. “I’m not shooting a bear and leaving her cubs motherless for a fool like you!”
“I command you!” Copeland probably thought he sounded imperial.
He sounded petulant. She brought the rifle around and zeroed in on him. “I’ll kill you and save you the suffering of being eaten alive.”
That got his attention. “I will have you removed!”
The bear was closing on him.
Soon Petie would have to make a decision. Death must come for Copeland—or for the bear. She should not shoot Copeland. She knew she shouldn’t. But the cubs...
From behind her, a figure strode past, headed toward Copeland.
At last, Jeen Lee had returned. She wore white. Her makeup and hair were perfect. Without hesitation, she waded into the water and made for Copeland.
Something about her, her focus, the menace that radiated from her, reminded Petie of the mama bear.
Copeland stared, frozen by the sight of the slim, deadly woman.
Miss Lee seized his chin in one hand and his neck in the other and turned his head to face the bear. She spoke to him; from this distance, Petie couldn’t hear the words, but whatever they were, they galvanized Copeland. The words and, Petie knew, the pressure of Miss Lee’s fingernails over his jugular.
He abandoned the salmon and the gear and bolted toward the riverbank. He fell once, struggled up, fought to get to safety with his chest-high fishing overalls filled with icy water.
Miss Lee swiftly moved downstream at an angle, away from the bear.
Petie stayed where she was until Copeland and Jeen Lee had gained the bank and were in a vehicle fleeing the scene. Then she ran toward the four-wheeler driven by Miska.
The bear reeled in the salmon Copeland had abandoned and ripped it to shreds with teeth and claws.
Petie settled on the seat behind Miska, and they roared toward the lodge.
The world expanded again. There were the snowy mountains, the wide sky, air to breathe, the breeze on her face and, most of all, her heart was still beating. Beating hard, beating fast as it recovered from terror and desperation. She was alive, and sometimes it was important to remember how grand that could be.
When the four-wheeler arrived at the lodge, Petie scrambled off and ran up the steps into the crowd of guests milling on the wide porch. Hawley was already there, passing out wine and liquor, and assuring them they had done exactly the right thing, and telling them the Hawley’s rule that applied to this instance—there would be an extraordinary dinner and fabulous entertainment.