Alaskan Wolf (6 page)

Even if it was, that didn't matter.

Mariah had an article on local wildlife to research and write. And she would keep that focus at the forefront of her mind.

 

Patrick was again—still—on Mariah's mind a few hours later after her appointment with John Amory,
the Tagoga High School science teacher who taught biology and advanced biology classes.

She needed Patrick, or at least his dogsled team. She was completely jazzed about getting back onto the glaciers as quickly as possible.

That was why she'd decided to go to Fiske's this evening for dinner, in the hope of running into Patrick there. But after the death of his friend, was he likely to be eating out in such a noisy, jovial place?

She didn't know, but, snugging her jacket around her, she set out walking briskly from Inez's, in the dark after sunset, toward the restaurant/bar.

In her mind, she rehashed her interview with the science teacher. John Amory had been a gold mine of information, and Mariah had taken copious notes on his ruminations about all kinds of Alaskan wildlife he had seen on the glaciers and elsewhere around here during the past ten years. His favorite part of each school year, he'd told her, was to take students on field trips onto the glaciers, see what kind of animals were there during which season, and take pictures.

He had even made copies of a lot of pictures for her and gave her a release so she could publish them.

And now, she was all but drooling to go back to Great Glaciers National Park and take more photos of her own. Use identifiable landmarks in John's pictures and shoot some in the same locations.
Maybe she could even capture some of the same kinds of animals. But she suspected, because of the frightening changes to the area of the glaciers, she was more likely to find at least some of those areas barren of life.

Maybe, though, she would see that wolf again.

She laughed a little at herself. Why was she getting so obsessed about that animal?

Pushing open the door to Fiske's, she heard the roar of conversations inside. When she gazed around, she didn't see Patrick or anyone else from the dogsled ranch.

Darn. Well, she wasn't really surprised. And when she backed outside again to call, just in case, she only got the Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch answering machine, the recorded voice telling her to leave a message.

Instead, she decided to head to the ranch and talk to someone—hopefully Patrick, but one of the Daweses would do—once she finished dinner.

And then, shivering from the cold, she went back inside.

Emil Charteris and his family were seated at a table. She headed there, glad to see at least a few familiar faces in the loud crowd. They made room for her, and she put her jacket over the back of her chair and sat down. When Thea came over, Mariah
ordered what was becoming her usual here—warm, spiked cider and salmon.

She was glad to find herself seated between Emil and his son-in-law. Turning to Jeremy, she asked, loudly enough to be heard over the crowd, “How's your wildlife research progressing? Anything you can share with me yet for my article?”

The lines in his forehead deepened as he shook his head and peered at her over his glasses. “We don't have our protocol complete, but my preliminary research seems to indicate things are still stable.”

“Really? I got a different opinion a little while ago from the local science teacher.” She described her meeting with John Amory and showed some of his photos. “He's planning a field trip with his students soon, but he's been up on the glaciers himself and thinks there aren't nearly the same numbers of animals there that he's used to seeing. I want to visit the areas he photographed as soon as possible to get my own take on them. And what about the statistics you're compiling?” she asked Carrie.

“Nothing helpful yet, but I'm working on it.”

“How do you intend to visit the areas in the photos?” Emil asked Mariah.

“Dogsled. It was a wonderful way to get right onto the glaciers when I went there before. Only…well, I'm hoping the Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch will be
available for rides soon. Did you hear what happened there?”

“Is that where the guy was killed?” Carrie's pretty face squeezed into a grimace. “Sounded awful.”

“That's the place,” Mariah confirmed. “I hope they figure out soon who did it.”

“You're a journalist, aren't you?” Jeremy asked. “Are you going to write about the killing?”

“If my editor has his way,” she said with a wry shake of her head. “And since he's my boss, he usually does.”

“I heard the guy was killed in his room at the dogsled ranch,” Carrie said. “Did someone working there do it?”

“Could be,” Mariah replied. But no one she'd met there seemed a likely killer…right? Not Patrick, at least. But what did she really know about him?

She was even far from certain that he was the same Patrick Worley she'd found online.

She was glad that the topic of conversation shifted to the weather here and in the lower forty-eight. And when she finished her dinner, she paid her bill and hurried from the restaurant toward the inn, where her car was parked.

Time to go find Patrick.

 

This wouldn't be easy, Patrick thought.

He wasn't going out on the glaciers tonight after
all. He needed to use every ability he had to find any available clues about who had killed Shaun as soon as possible, before anything that was still there disappeared. And before anyone was permitted by the police to return there to where they lived.

Clues the cops wouldn't find, or would overlook.

Fortunately, the dogsled ranch was isolated, surrounded by mountainous woodlands. The trees would provide only a minimal amount of cover, barren of leaves this late in fall, but the ground was uneven and there were enough places where he could hide and accomplish what he needed to.

He got into his car and drove down the road to avoid leaving human footprints that the cops might see. He'd already scouted an area to park, unnoticed.

He sat in his vehicle for a few minutes nevertheless, checking around in the darkness for any sign of someone following him.

Nothing.

It was time.

He pulled his backpack from the floor of the passenger's side. He extracted the two critical contents: a cloth bag containing the battery-operated light that created artificial illumination resembling moonlight…and the bottle of the special Alpha Force tonic.

He measured some liquid into a plastic cup, also
taken from the bag, and drank it. Amazingly pleasant and ordinary tasting, considering what it was. A hint of lemon, a little mint…and a whole lot more.

He got out of the car. Turned on the light. Stood in its intense glow, watching, waiting…and shut it off while he still could as he started to change.

He felt the strain on his muscles, his internal organs, his skin. Sensed himself shrinking swiftly to ground level, his arms and legs morphing into canine limbs. No pain, lots of sensation, tugging, retraction, growth. Still awareness, thanks to the elixir. Watched through eyes that grew brighter as silvery fur erupted from his skin.

And as the shift grew complete, he used the keenness of his modified hearing to listen to his own triumphant howl.

 

Fortunately, despite the cold, there was no pre cipitation, so Mariah's drive to the dogsled ranch was uneventful. When she arrived, she called again from her cell phone, but still got no answer.

The front gate to the driveway was locked, and the main house looked dark. She parked with the nose of her vehicle on the drive and got out to look around. When she pushed the intercom button on the stone pilaster, no one responded.

She heard dogs barking from the house, saw the
building to its rear and the large outbuilding where the teams lived.

And then…what was that appearing from behind the house? Was one of the dogs loose on the property, alone?

The animal stopped, as if it had seen her, too. It looked like a wolf. Resembled the wolf Mariah had seen on the calving glacier two nights earlier. Hey, that was great!

But what an imagination she had. Who said it was the same wolf? Talk about obsession.

And yet…she was somehow convinced it was the same one. And she didn't want to look away. The dog—wolf?—also continued to stare in her direction.

Fortunately, Mariah had slipped her tote bag over her shoulder. Without looking away, she reached inside and groped for her camera. She pulled it out, turned it on. Snapped a picture.

The flash must have startled the animal. It ran away, back behind the house.

When Mariah looked at its picture on her camera's digital screen, she drew in her breath. It definitely looked like a wolf—
the
wolf—at least from this distance.

And she couldn't shake off the idea that its eyes, its thick gray coat, its alert ears…it really had to be the wolf she had seen before.

 

She did not belong here. Not now.

His being at the ranch at this moment, in this form, was risky enough. But having the woman who pried for a living here, too…unacceptable.

Yet there was nothing he could do. He had no other person as backup. He had done all to ensure his change would be a short one.

And then he had come here, his senses enhanced, to seek anything to point to who had harmed his friend, Shaun.

Fortunately, no human stayed on the property this night.

But all scents had, in fact, already been masked by the clever killer.

Even outside, on the grounds, he found nothing useful. No smells, footprints, tire tracks, beyond what was expected.

Except the spicy scent of Mariah.

And now, when he wanted to go to the front of the building where Shaun was murdered to continue his quest for anything useful, he couldn't.

Not with Mariah watching him. Taking his picture.

He fled to the backyard.

He should hate the woman for her interference. But, somehow, he didn't.

And that was more disquieting than her staring at him and taking his picture.

With a low howl that he was certain she could hear, loud enough to set the dogs inside barking, he turned and loped from the property.

M
ariah was awake long before the sun came up the next morning, and it wasn't just because the late fall days in Alaska were growing shorter.

She got out of bed. Showered. Started getting dressed. Fast. Preoccupied.

She hadn't slept well. Not with thoughts of poor Shaun Bethune still invading her mind. And, of course, sexy, enigmatic Patrick Worley.

Not to mention that wolf at the dogsled ranch.

A wolf. She loved wildlife. And she was curious. Was it the same wolf?

Why would a wolf get so near a pack of do
mesticated canines? Was it due to changes to its natural habitat, like the decimation of the glaciers?

Or was it something else? Dissension within his pack? Search for a new one? A lack of prey? Patrick's presence?

If he was the right Patrick Worley and grew up in an area where werewolf legends abounded…

She laughed aloud as she grabbed her tote bag and purse and slammed her room's door closed behind her. What a gullible idiot she was. Werewolves, indeed. Although if there were any such thing, she'd love to meet one. What an article she could do for
Alaskan Nature!
Or, better yet, her boss Harold's gossipy rag.

Now, though, it was time for breakfast. And a good dose of caffeine. And reality.

As always, the inn's breakfast area was crowded but not full. Mariah sat alone at a table for two and eavesdropped.

The cold weather was a big topic of conversation. So was a local sightseeing tour by small airplane. She'd have to look into that.

Some guys at a nearby table talked about the murder of a local musher in low undertones— Shaun. Mariah had the sense they were either in law enforcement, sent here to help the local cops, or they were from the media and knew the right lingo.

In either case, she'd remember their faces and
maybe say hi to them someday, if she thought they could share useful information with her.

She ate fast, filled a paper cup with hot coffee and put a cardboard sleeve around it, then slid on her jacket and went outside.

The temperature was even colder than yesterday. The wind was blowing. She shivered as she hustled to the parking area and got into her SUV.

And headed toward the Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch. Again.

On the way, she once more tried calling ahead, but still no one answered. She didn't leave a message.

The gate was open, so she pulled into the driveway as she had done a couple of days ago. Like late yesterday, there was no indication of any law enforcement types here.

The place looked peaceful. Not even any dogs in the yard.

Or wolves.

She peered into the woods surrounding the place. The trees were bare and bleak—and appeared empty. She parked, got out and started up the driveway. Oh, yes, the dogs were present. She heard them barking from inside the buildings, both the house and the large enclosed kennel beyond the yard where she had first photographed the huskies.

She'd run into Patrick right there the first time she had visited. No sign of him now, though.

She went to the house's front door and rang the bell. And waited, listening for anything besides the barking of the dogs inside. No sound of any human occupation.

Hearing an engine behind her, she turned to see a vehicle edging around hers and up the driveway.

Patrick wasn't alone in his car. Both of the Daweses were inside, as well. Mariah followed the vehicle's movement along the driveway to the rear of the house.

“What brings you here so early, Mariah?” Toby asked as he exited the vehicle, zipping up his jacket. Wes and Patrick also got out.

“Looking for another dogsled ride, of course,” she said cheerfully.

“Yeah, I got your messages, but we were closed for a couple of days.” The expression on his unshaven face looked grim beneath his knit cap. “You heard about Shaun, I assume.” He stood in front of her, his large shoulders hunched beneath his gray parka.

She nodded. “Patrick told me. I'm so sorry.”

“Us, too. Anyway, I might be able to squeeze you in, but since we had to cancel on some of our tour groups I have to reschedule them first.”

“Couldn't Patrick take me out right now?” She tried to look the picture of innocence as she smiled toward him.

“That should work,” Toby agreed.

“Thought you wanted me to start packing Shaun's things, now that the cops are through?” Patrick's tone suggested that sorting a dead man's possessions would be a whole lot preferable to her company, which caused Mariah's smile to vanish.

“They'll wait,” Toby said. “Or Wes can do it.”

The expression that crossed Patrick's face suggested momentary alarm, but it disappeared almost immediately. “No, he needs to help you reschedule the tours,” he said smoothly, glancing toward a nodding Wes. “Here's the compromise. I'll take Mariah out for a short jaunt now. If she wants more later, we can decide on another day and time. Okay?”

Though Toby was the boss, Patrick's tone didn't leave room for anything but approval. “Sounds good,” he said. “Long as it's okay with Mariah.”

“It'll do,” she said, as an SUV parked beside them and started disgorging guys who were probably the ranch's other mushers.

She looked at them. Could one of these guys have killed Shaun? Surely the cops would have considered that. And it really wasn't her concern, despite her editor, Harold, encouraging her to do a little investigative journalism here.

She eavesdropped on the greetings between the Daweses and their employees. They apparently hadn't seen each other since the police started their
investigation. One was named Hank, another Jimmy. None looked like an obvious killer.

But if she happened to learn something useful that was related more to murder than wildlife…

She'd been known to write some pretty incisive factual articles in her past life, before coming to Alaska to enjoy her career more.

Maybe she could do it again.

 

“So why are we doing this today?” Patrick asked his passenger in the ranch's van. The team of dogs was in the rear compartment with the sled. They were on their way back to the glaciers.

“Because I want to compress more research into less time,” Mariah said. “I have to complete my article. My editor is giving me other ideas, although nothing I'm extremely excited about.”

Patrick looked toward her. Despite her words, there was an air of excitement in her smile as she watched the ice-covered landscape go by. She had removed the cap she'd worn at the ranch, and her dark hair was mussed becomingly around her face. How could she look so sexy with all those warm clothes on?

“So what's your next topic?” he asked, his eyes back on the slick road.

“If my editor has his way, it'll be something on Shaun's death,” she said bluntly.

“For your nature magazine?”

“He owns other publications, too.”

More reasons for her to be nosy. Ask questions.

Get in his way—and maybe make it even harder for him to deal with the killer himself—once he figured out who it was.

How was he going to, instead, get her out of his way?

Especially when her presence was such a damned turn-on?

He'd finally reached the area he'd been looking for. He pulled the van onto the side of the road and maneuvered it so he could easily take the dogs and sled from the back.

Before he got out, he said, “So our goal today is the same as last time—looking for wildlife so you can take pictures.”

“That, and I want to try to find the landmarks from the photos I got from the high school science teacher, John Amory.” She pulled pictures from an envelope extracted from her tote bag. “I want to shoot some of the same areas again if I can find them, compare any animals I find with the ones in these shots. These photos are about a year old, John told me. There are a few rock formations that I'd especially like to find.” She pointed to ice-covered crags and castle-turret-like shapes with sheep and bears and various types of birds gathered nearby.

At least one formation appeared familiar, so Patrick knew the first direction to aim the sled. “Sounds good.”

“One more thing. That wolf I saw here the first night. I'm not sure if it's the same one I saw last evening near your ranch, but it could have been. There was certainly a resemblance. That's my number one priority. If we could somehow find him on the glaciers and get his picture, that's what I want to do.”

She looked directly at Patrick as if she could read his thoughts. Which were turbulent just then.

“What wolf? And when were you here yesterday?” She didn't know he'd watched her from the ranch last night, while shifted.

“I came by, but no one seemed to be around, so I left.” Her stare didn't waver.

She surely didn't believe that the two wolves were the same…and that both were him while shifted? Did she?

Of course not. He shrugged off his uneasiness…almost. “Well, let's go see what we can find.” He exited the van.

 

Outside the vehicle, Mariah enjoyed helping attach the eager huskies to the sled. She gave each of the nine dog team members a hug, especially the lead dog, Mac. And then she dutifully got on in front of
Patrick and assumed the sitting position he'd shown her before.

“Let's go!” he shouted, and they were off.

It was heady. And exhilarating! The cold air slapped at her face, mostly hidden by a scarf that wrapped her nose and mouth beneath her knit cap. The sky was clear, a startling shade of azure, and sunlight sparkled around them without warming the air.

If the huskies were cold under their thick fur coats, or if their feet froze on the snow-dusted ice's surface, they didn't show any discomfort. Instead, they appeared as happy as if they'd been untethered in heaven.

Mariah couldn't see Patrick behind her but was very aware of his presence. And his warmth, as he leaned forward against her back to control the dogs.

Mariah had tried hard to read his expression when she'd mentioned locating a wolf up here. Mostly, he looked irritated. And resigned. No indication he knew anything unusual about either or both animals.

Not that she had actually anticipated something from him. Why should he even understand what she'd been driving at so obliquely, when it had been entirely a figment of her overactive imagination? He'd probably laugh his head off if she hinted more
directly that she'd read about werewolves, of all things.

“That picture with the top-hat rock formation,” he shouted from behind her. “With the grizzly bear? We'll go there first.”

She turned her head and nodded eagerly. “Great,” she called, unsure if he could hear her above the rushing wind that was enhanced by their speed.

The surface of the glacier—she believed it was named Akjaq—was relatively flat where they were, but huge icy cliffs rose to their right. The glacier's edge, with the sea below, was half a mile to their left. Mariah drank in the awesome sights. No animals here, though. Would they see any at all on this outing?

In five minutes, without slowing their speed, they reached the area in the photo. Mariah recognized it easily, with the nearly conical rocky outcropping covered with patches of ice sparkling frigidly in the sunlight.

No grizzly bears wandered at its base today, though. Even so, Mariah took some photos after Patrick stopped the sled, and was gratified to spot a bald eagle flying by.

“This is amazing!” she exclaimed to Patrick. Her excitement grew even headier, somehow, when she saw he watched her with a grin that enhanced his gorgeous features. She'd thought him handsome
even with his usual expressionless look, but when he smiled…awesome!

She'd taken off her mittens to snap pictures on her digital camera, and her hands were freezing. Even so, she reached into her tote bag for John Amory's photos. “How about this one?” She held up one for Patrick to see. The rock formation in it resembled ice-covered organ pipes.

“Looks like the one near Afalati Glacier,” he said.

It took time to get there, skimming over two other wide ice formations on their way. But soon, Mariah again recognized, in the distance, the pattern of tall, rocky crags coated in the ubiquitous Alaskan ice.

To skirt some difficult ice outcroppings, they traveled near the cliff edge of Afalati, overlooking Tagoga Bay far below.

“Let's stop for a minute so I can get some pictures,” Mariah called to Patrick.

He apparently couldn't hear. His arm was outstretched as he held the dogsled's reins, so she touched him. “Please stop.”

This time, he ordered the dogs, “Whoa.” Once they were stopped, he asked her, “You okay?”

She repeated her desire to get pictures before they continued, then got off the sled, camera in hand.

She looked first in the direction they'd been traveling. “Hey, is that a bear?” She pointed toward
the base of the craggy outcropping, where a round mound of dark fur moved slowly inland.

“Looks like,” Patrick agreed.

“Then I'll get this kind of picture later. Let's go on—as long as the dogs aren't too afraid.”

Several members of the team were sitting, but the rest appeared poised to continue.

“They're fine. We'll—”

She didn't hear him finish. Instead, the air around them seemed to explode, then fill with shrill, frantic calls of orcas in distress. But the surface where they stood was probably fifty feet from the water below. Holding her camera ready, Mariah hurried toward the edge, preparing the telephoto setting so she could get the best picture possible.

When she looked down, the water's surface was indeed churning, as if the killer whales were just below, thrashing. That was when Mariah heard loud, explosive noises, followed by cracking sounds so loud that she reached up to hold her ears.

“Run!” Patrick shouted, grabbing her and practically carrying her toward the sled. The dogs were all standing now, and the lead dog, Mac, began to howl. Several others joined him.