Alaskan Wolf (10 page)

Mariah glanced toward Jeremy Thaxton. Was he okay with the way his wife seemed to be playing up to the TV personality? Apparently so, since he was nodding in her direction.

“We get it, don't we, Flynn?” Mariah said. “But
if that ever changes, please let us know. I'd love a minisub view of local sea life. Not to mention your commentary on it, Jeremy.” She aimed a hopeful grin in the zoologist's direction, but he just looked away.

Mariah soon said good-night and started walking toward the door.

Why wasn't she surprised to find Patrick outside in the brisk Alaskan air with her?

“Lovely night,” she said noncommittally. What she wanted to ask was how the beer she'd seen him nursing went with the stuff in the bottle. Even more than that, she wanted to ask if he was well, how he was feeling.

Most of all, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss those amazing lips…one last time.

She did none of it.

“Yeah, it is,” Patrick said. And then he turned and walked away.

I
t was very early in the morning when Patrick got out of his car and headed inside toward his apartment. Security lights were the only illumination. No one else appeared to be awake, and not even Duke was barking.

Patrick had prowled a new portion of the glacier park that night, one he hadn't been to in wolf form before. He'd heard and scented nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe he should have stayed at Fiske's Hangout.

Earlier, being near the table where Mariah was seated had been a plus in more ways than one. He had been able to watch her without it being too obvious.
Seen her for what might wind up being the last time. A good thing.

Why didn't he feel better about it?

At least he'd been able to eavesdrop. If the sounds he'd heard before belonged to the submarine Emil Charteris hired, then the scientist had been lying about how frequently he was using it—which suggested that his reason for using it was different, as well.

Something potentially interesting to follow-up on. But not tonight. Or tomorrow night, either, when his shifting would be beyond his control.

He opened his door and flicked on the lights, kneeling to accept Duke's effervescent greeting. His eyes immediately gravitated toward the bed in his small studio apartment. He thought about that afternoon, and what he had shared here with Mariah. With regret? Yeah—that it wouldn't happen again.

He locked the door. Hefting the strap off his shoulder, he put down his backpack on the small table near the kitchen area. The elixir and light inside had functioned as intended this evening.

And had aroused too many questions in Mariah's curious mind that afternoon.

She had assumed he was ill—or on some kind of illegal drugs. Logical stuff, for a logical kind of human.

Maybe she'd looked him up on the internet,
found a Patrick Worley who'd been dishonorably discharged from the military—the cover story that had been planted about him. Though not all sources mentioned it, the reason had allegedly been for drug use. Mariah might jump to that conclusion anyway, thanks to what she'd found in his knapsack. And if so, she would undoubtedly stay far away from him now if she thought he had a habit he hadn't kicked.

Had she learned that the same Patrick Worley had grown up in an area filled with werewolf legends?

What would she really think if she knew what the things she had found were used for? She had asserted a particular interest in wolves, in her wildlife predilection.

Good thing he planned to be way off on the farthest of the glaciers tomorrow night. Nowhere near Mariah and her assumptions about him and his addictions.

Or whatever else she thought about him.

 

What a mistake, Mariah thought the next day as she walked into Elegance, Tagoga's one and only high-end restaurant, with Flynn.

She had suggested meeting him at Fiske's. But when she had called him this morning to confirm their interview, he had made it clear that he intended to hold court with her here.

At her expense.

For the sake of her article, she had agreed. And hoped that she at least got something quotable from him.

The place wasn't very busy. It smelled of luscious gourmet foods—exotic herbs and spices. “Let's sit there.” Flynn pointed to a table for two near a window. The tablecloth was a pristine white, set with ornate silverware. Mariah felt gratified when Flynn asked only for hot tea to drink, instead of an expensive wine to fill one of the goblets at their table.

After the server had taken their drink orders, Mariah said, “So what's your opinion on wildlife in Tagoga? Abundant or not?”

She put her recorder on the table, and poised her pen over the tablet she'd brought to take notes.

Flynn began pontificating on how great it was to visit Alaska and see wonderful creatures such as bald eagles, coyotes, Arctic foxes, wolves, lynxes, voles, shrews and weasels—but not all around Tagoga.

“Which have you spotted locally?”

His response wasn't surprising: basically a reiteration of the animals Mariah had seen.

“Have you taken any pictures?” she asked Flynn.

“Of course. Film clips I can use on my show, with commentary. I'll let you see them, but if you want to use any in your article you'll need to buy the right.”

That figured. “I'll have enough of my own,” she said, loathe to commit to spend more money than she had to on Flynn Shulster—especially when he ordered an expensive steak sandwich for lunch—even in the interest of maintaining collegiality. She stuck with soup and a small salad.

When their order had been taken, Mariah skimmed her notes on what she planned to ask Flynn. But before she got into more interview questions, he said, “You've been out on the glaciers a lot, haven't you?”

“A bit, yes. I'm hoping to focus my article on wildlife on the ice.”

“Are you going to include sled dogs in your article, too? I heard you've been going out often with that musher Patrick—and not just on the glaciers.”

Mariah felt herself redden. “He's been a helpful resource,” she responded cautiously.

“Well, watch out for him. You know he was a friend of that fellow Shaun, who got murdered, right?”

She needed to get the interview back on track. “Yes. Now, how about you—do you believe going out on dogsleds gives any greater access to wildlife, or less?”

“No other animal's going to want to get close to a bunch of running dogs all trying to be alpha. You know, neither Patrick nor Shaun had been here very
long before the murder, so who else could have been mad enough at Shaun to kill him?”

Not a bad question, perhaps. But not one she wanted to get into with Flynn. “Let's leave that to the local authorities.” Wanting an excuse to get away from Flynn for a few minutes to reconsider her approach, Mariah glanced around. Oh, yes, the usual means of escape—she noticed a discreet sign for the restroom. She also noticed that Jeremy Thaxton sat alone at a table at the far side of the room.

“Excuse me,” she said and stood. On her way to the restroom, she made a brief stop at Jeremy's table. “Hi,” she said. “Is Carrie here with you?”

She was on a restroom break, too.

“My discussion with Flynn is fascinating,” she lied, “but I'd love your take on what he has been telling me. May I schedule you for an interview just to talk about that?” Not that she really expected a positive answer.

“Sorry.” He peered up at her through his glasses. “We've made it clear that we can't talk about our work, even peripherally.”

Mariah nodded ruefully. “If that ever changes, please let me know.” She headed for the ladies' room.

Hearing a low voice, she turned the corner at the end of the hall. Carrie Thaxton's back was toward her, and she held up a cell phone to her ear.

Despairing of Jeremy's cooperation, Mariah decided to press her case with Carrie, once she was off the phone. But Mariah's attention was immediately captured by Carrie's whisper. “Kaley Glacier? Tonight? Another calving—major breakage?”

Was she talking to her dad? But what had Emil Charteris found out? And how did he know there would be more damage tonight?

Mariah was sure Carrie wouldn't tell her, and she didn't want to reveal she had been listening in.

But Mariah suddenly knew where she would be that night.

 

Coming by dogsled would have been much easier, Mariah thought as she slid on rented skis across the icy surface of Kaley Glacier. Still, she loved cross-country skiing, and the opportunity of indulging in it on the glacier felt exhilarating—even though, this time, she had a reason besides the fun of it.

She had driven to the glacier park and parked her SUV as close to her goal as possible.

She'd contacted Toby Dawes at Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch first, told him she wanted someone to take her out on Kaley Glacier that evening—preferably not Patrick, although she said nothing critical about him.

But no one was available—not even Patrick, who had taken the day off.

She had started out late in the afternoon. At least it was still daylight now. She wasn't sure how long she would have to remain near the edge of Kaley Glacier before the calving Carrie had described on the phone might occur—or not. If it did, she hoped it would be early, but at least she should be able to see any changes even late, under the light of tonight's full moon.

She had bundled up in layers, including a thick knit cap and matching scarf to protect her face. And battery-operated socks and hand warmers.

It was quiet out here. All she heard was the whooshing of her skis on the glacier's surface.

She was delighted to glimpse some small, furry white animals darting around not too far from her. She stopped, pulled her camera out of her bag and used the telephoto lens to snap pictures of the Arctic foxes.

But where was the wolf?

She also saw a few gull-like white-and-gray kittiwakes fly by overhead. But if it weren't for the blueness of the nearly cloud-free sky, she might think that the entire world had morphed entirely into multiple shades of white.

Fortunately, even sliding this fast, she wasn't especially cold. She only hoped she'd be able to stand the chill long enough once she reached her goal. If not, she would leave. At least she had brought
enough gear, as she always did on research trips into less populated areas of Alaska, including a powerful battery-operated light, a cell phone and an iridium satellite phone she'd rented in advance. Its GPS would ensure she could always find her way back.

At one point she saw a grizzly bear in the distance and shot its photo, too. And then she kept going. Until she reached the area near the edge of Kaley Glacier.

Not too close, though. Having had such a close call before, when the glacier she was on had calved, she didn't want to experience anything like that again.

She stopped some distance from the ice's end, looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The mounds of ice and snow suggested that the recent calving had sheered off the most sedate part of the glacier's surface. She stood, staring down as best she could into the ice-mottled water far below.

What was she looking for?

Hell if she knew. But daylight was starting to fade. Carrie's overheard comment hadn't specified a time for the supposed major breakage to occur, only that it would be tonight.

Maybe. There were certainly no guarantees that anything would happen on Kaley Glacier tonight.

Not even the appearance of that elusive wolf, darn it.

As Mariah continued scanning the water from this
distance, she thought she heard a deep crash from somewhere below her, but only for a moment.

It was followed by the frantic call of a pod of orcas.

Which was when she heard a violent cracking noise and the ground started to tremble.

 

Damn the woman! Patrick thought, sliding across the ice on cross-country skis. He hadn't dared bring any of the dogs along this night, not even Duke. But at the town's main rental store, he had confirmed that Mariah had rented similar skis earlier that afternoon.

Patrick had gotten word from Toby that Mariah had contacted him about hiring a dog team to go to Kaley Glacier that day. She hadn't said why but had made it clear that she would go on her own if no one could take her.

Of course Patrick couldn't take her today—not with tonight's fast-approaching full moon. But he didn't like the idea of her going out on the ice by herself. Especially because Toby had the impression that she expected something to occur there that evening.

One way or another, she could be putting herself in danger, and he needed to find her in time and convince her—fast—to go back. Not that he harbored
much hope she'd listen to him. But he'd just have to find a way to scare her into returning, if necessary.

It might not be hard to convince her that he was stalking her, if he just happened to show up in the middle of nowhere, exactly where she was heading. But he'd better find her quickly—or he'd have to give up on the idea of trying to save her. Daylight was already starting to wane.

At least she had mentioned Kaley Glacier, but as he drew closer to the water side, the ice field's rises and crags seemed to multiply. He couldn't see the edge.

He slowed down, moved more carefully now. Looked around, and listened.

He stopped skiing as he detected a scent in the air. Ozone?

What—

And then came the sounds he'd heard before—an explosion. Orcas. Cracking—

He heard a scream.

 

Mariah frantically attempted to shove herself, on her skis, even farther inland. The sun, now just above the horizon, created a huge, orange glow that lit up the ice around her, making it even harder for her to see where to head.

The ground's shaking below her accelerated, like an earth tremor she had once experienced in
California, only a whole lot fiercer. Worse, even, than the last glacier calving she had experienced here.

Damn! How many could she go through and still survive?

Would
she survive?

And why was she experiencing this again?

A huge crack appeared to her left. The vast section of ice she was on started separating from the rest.

She screamed again, trying frantically to scramble toward the remaining glacier surface.

And then, miraculously, a form emerged from behind an ice mount, lit like a golden god from the gleaming sun behind her.

“Hang on, Mariah!”

Patrick! He was clad warmly, too, his face shrouded with a scarf, but that tall, substantial form was definitely his.

In moments, he was at the land's edge of the separating ice.

“Back up, get momentum and ski over here,” he shouted. “I'll catch you.”

Could she do it?

No choice. At least the crack hadn't yet fully separated where she stood from the rest of the glacier.

She obeyed Patrick. Backed up on her skis. Pushed forward, sailing over the slowly widening void. Her
eyes huge, her body shaking. Would she make it this time?