Rock Harbor Series - 03 - Into the Deep (8 page)

“Yes.” Cassie thrust out her chin as if daring her to deny it.

Bree forced herself to ask questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers to. “He moved away when I was six. How did you know where to find me?”

“Your mother sent him pictures and updates.”

The very idea of her mother doing something so mundane and normal seemed unreal. She’d never even known her mother to take any pictures. There were her school pictures, but half the time her mom didn’t buy but one sheet. “And your mother?”

“She died when I was ten.”

“Did she know about me and my mother?”

“I doubt it. She didn’t notice much of anything.”

Cassie must have sensed Bree’s panic, for she put her hand on Bree’s arm and stopped her flight. “He loved you and your mother very much, you know.”

Bree shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. A father who loved me wouldn’t have left me to deal with an alcoholic mother. He never so much as sent me a birthday card.”

Cassie blinked and frowned. “I don’t remember her drinking. She always smelled of lilacs, and her skin was so soft.”

Bree looked away. Sometimes she remembered a laughing, smiling mother who baked cookies and read to her, but the memories were so
buried by scenes of broken dishes, cursing, and slaps that she’d thought the others were merely fantasies. Could her father’s leaving be what changed her mother? Her memories were so jumbled. Maybe her mother had been different before Bernard left. She didn’t want to think about that. This raking up of memories was like pulling the scab off a wound.

She turned away from Cassie and yanked her fingers through her hair. All she wanted now was to get away and think about this. Her insides felt cold, like frosted glass. One more revelation and she would shatter into shards, each one cutting until she bled from a thousand wounds.

When she had herself under control again, she looked up to meet Cassie’s anxious gaze. Bernard regarded her with a smile that seemed to say he knew she would welcome him with open arms. Her stomach churned with acid. “I’m sorry, you’ve caught me off guard. I hardly know what to think or feel.” She wanted to scream, to ask how their dad could abandon her to slaps and screams instead of hugs and kisses. This man didn’t even know her.

“I have the letters and photos if you’d like to see them,” Cassie offered.

Bree shook her head. “No. Not now.” The wail of the ambulance rattled the windows. Her work here was done. She took a deep breath and focused on Naomi’s face. “Let’s go, Naomi.” She didn’t dare look at Cassie or Bernard. Only those close to her would see her cry.

Saddle leather creaked as Kade rode Moses along Ribbon Trail. Glimpses of blue juxtaposed themselves against the thick green foliage, but he didn’t have time today to slow his horse and enjoy the lake panoramas. It would take him at least an hour to ride out to Ribbon River, where a hunter had reported dozens of fish floating dead in the water.

He crested the hill and looked down into a meadow. Banks of wildflowers made the thought of possible contamination that much more
disquieting. He urged his horse, Moses, down the final leg of the trail to the creek. The black flies swarmed, but luckily his insect repellant was still potent. The nuisance of the bugs should ease in a few days.

As he reached the meadow and dismounted, he heard rustling in the brush. Probably fishermen. He tied Moses to a tree and swatted a black fly on his arm, then trod through the underbrush in the direction of the sound. Stepping from the shadows of a stand of white birch, he found a woman kneeling beside the river. She wore a pantsuit and what Kade assumed were once fashionable shoes.

She definitely wasn’t a fisherman.

As he approached the river, he could see dozens of dead fish floating among the lily pads. In the open water, dozens more rode the current, their white bellies turned up to the black flies that feasted on them. Bile rose in Kade’s throat at the odor. What could have caused this? There was nothing upriver that could have wreaked this devastation. The only operating lumbermill was downstream.

The woman saw him coming and stood. She wiped her hands on her slacks and left smears of moisture. Her smile seemed genuine.

Kade nodded. “Ranger Kade Matthews. What’s going on here?”

The woman cleared her throat then spoke in a husky voice. “That’s what I’d like to know. I’m with NAWG.”

North America Wilderness Group. Kade had heard of them. They had their fingers in nearly every radical environmentalist activity that went on in the northern states. The group had been linked to everything from factory bombings to the destruction of bioengineered crops.

“Someone call you?”

The woman’s smile widened. “You and I are on the same side, Ranger. We’re both wearing white hats. There are creek chubsuckers dead here, and they are on the endangered species list. This can’t be allowed to continue.”

“I agree. That’s my job,” he said. He knelt and looked through the dead fish. The woman was right. He saw at least two of the endangered fish floating in the carnage. “This is bad,” he muttered.

The woman nodded. “Would you be willing to talk to the media about this? I plan to call the networks as soon as we get back to town. We need all the attention we can get to find out what happened and stop it.”

Kade stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “I don’t think so. I’d rather face a charging bear than a camera any day.” Her lips twitched, and he saw the amusement in her eyes.

“I can handle the media,” she said.

She reminded him of someone, but Kade couldn’t place the woman’s face. Her dark hair was coiled atop her head, and her chiseled features added to the regal look. Someone else Kade knew carried herself like a princess, but the memory just wouldn’t surface.

“You handle the media then, and I’ll track down what’s causing this,” he said.

“Only if you can do a better job than your predecessors. They let the Michigan grayling go extinct.” She smiled. “But you look quite competent.”

“The department did what it could to conserve the fish,” he said. “Sometimes nothing we do helps.”

She nodded. “I didn’t mean to cast blame. I’ve heard about you and your conservation efforts, Mr. Matthews.” She stepped away from the river. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You look familiar. What’s your name?”

She blinked and looked away. “Marika Fleming. But we’ve never met. I’d remember someone like you.”

Fleming. The name didn’t ring a bell. He tipped his hat and watched her walk out of the meadow and up the slope covered with wildflowers.

He turned again to look at the fish. He had to figure this out and prevent it from happening again. He didn’t want any fish to go extinct on his watch either.

He swung into the saddle and proceeded down the path along the river. Several times he saw what appeared to be dumping spots. Empty five-gallon buckets and trash littered the sites. But what could have been
dumped with such catastrophic effect? He took water samples from each spot, labeled the bottles, then grabbed the buckets and lashed them to the saddle. He’d have them tested to see if they were tainted.

Ribbon Trail petered out at an outcropping that rose thirty feet to a high, rocky shelf overlooking the river. Kade dismounted and looped Moses’s reins around a shrub. He climbed to the top of the cliff. From the view here, he could see nearly the whole watershed basin. The wilderness looked pristine. If he hadn’t seen the fish with his own eyes, he would have thought the water running through here was as pure as it looked.

The old copper mine that MJ Pharmaceuticals had converted to a lab lay upstream, just beyond a stand of aspen. He dragged his binoculars out of the pouch at his waist for a better look. He brought the lenses to his eyes, and the figures jumped into focus. Two people in white lab coats were entering the mine. Yancy Coppler and Nora Corbit. He put his binoculars away and climbed down to his horse. He’d need to head over to the mine and take a good look at their waste disposal systems. But that would have to wait. First he’d have the buckets tested. Then he’d have a better idea of what to look for.

What’s the matter, boy?” Jonelle Ketola crouched at the fence and peered in at Zane’s prize pit bull. Bruck was pacing the containment area on stiff legs. Jonelle didn’t dare put her hand in the pen when the dog was in this state. She hoped he would calm down soon.

Zane yanked her back from the fence. “Careful. He’s pretty agitated. Maybe the dose of steroids and cocaine needs to be adjusted. He ain’t focusing like he should. I’ll cut tomorrow’s dose in half.” Zane stood, watching the dog prance around his pen. “He’s a fine specimen, the best dog I’ve ever had. Look at those muscles.”

Jonelle nodded. Thick muscles rippled under the sleek, black coat. The dog would rather die than lose a fight. His reputation had spread far through the country’s underground dogfighting networks.

It was getting hard to find someone willing to pit his dog against Bruck, but she knew what her husband planned. If he could get his hands on Samson, the event would attract hundreds of spectators. Everyone wanted to see Bruck lose. The dog’s defeat would satisfy the personal vendetta of some owners who had lost their dogs to Bruck’s drug-induced bloodlust. Their desire for Bruck’s defeat would blind them to Zane’s schemes.

Jonelle held up the bowl. “I’ve got their food.”

“You’re all dressed up. You heading to Houghton?”

“Yeah, I want to start getting some baby stuff.” She tried to hand him the food, but he pushed it away.

“Take it back. I’m not feeding them today. They have a practice match tonight. Simik brought me some bait dogs.”

Jonelle grimaced. “I hate it when you use those dogs. They don’t hardly know what’s going on. Can’t you use rabbits or something?”

“It’s not the same. Just remember, this is all for the baby. If we didn’t have the dogs, you wouldn’t be going shopping. You’re too softhearted.”

She slipped her arms around his waist. He embraced her with one arm, but his attention was on the dogs. “I need your help today, so don’t go gallivanting off to town just yet.”

She sighed, and her smile faded. She let go of Zane and started to lean over the fence to throw a treat to Bruck. The dog growled low in his chest then lunged at her. She snatched her hand back just in time. She had better keep her mind on her surroundings instead of day-dreaming about the baby.

“I just told you not to feed him. He’s liable to leave you with a stump. Besides, I don’t want you making him soft.”

The dog growled again and leapt up on the fence. He could smell the food and wanted it ferociously, which Jonelle knew was just the state Zane liked to keep him in. He grabbed up the cattle prod and zapped the dog with it. Bruck yelped and snarled, but slunk away. Jonelle flinched.

“He needs to spend some time on the treadmill,” Zane muttered. “Burn off some of that energy.”

“What are you wanting help with?” Jonelle linked her hand through Zane’s elbow.

“A dognapping.”

She groaned. “Zane, you already got some dogs. Let it be.” Her heart sank. She didn’t want him to take that Samson. He was a pet.

“This dog’s going to bring in some good money. Don’t feel too sorry for him. He’ll give Bruck a good fight.”

“I don’t think Bruck can be beaten. Isn’t that good enough for you? Do you want him to fight until he is finally bested, or do you want him to go down in history as the greatest fighting dog ever?”

“He’s not ready to retire. Look at him; he’s still in his prime. I’ll know when the time comes.”

She sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“Just drive the truck.”

She sighed but followed him to the truck. They drove to town in silence. She knew he could sense her disapproval by the way he turned his head and stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“We could do a lot with the money,” he said abruptly. “Put up another barn and maybe start to breed Bruck. With the prices I could get for tough pups, we could put that new room on the back of the house you been wanting.”

Jonelle had been bugging him about that new room for two years. But she wasn’t sure the price tag was worth it.

They reached the edge of town. “How do you know where to find this dog?”

“We’ll drive past where he lives. Go that way.”

Jonelle drove out Negaunee toward the lighthouse. The thick leaves hid the structure until they passed the Blue Bonnet. “There it is,” he told her.

Jonelle sighed but drove on.

“Let’s see if he’s in the yard.”

Jonelle nodded and slowed the truck. They crept past the lighthouse, but the yard was deserted and no Jeep was parked in front. “They must be gone,” he muttered. He drummed his fingers on his leg. “Head to town,” he ordered. “There are two other places to check.”

“We can’t snatch a dog in the middle of downtown,” she protested.

“We won’t. But maybe the kid and the dog are with the aunt or the grandmother. I got both their addresses.”

He had her cruise by Anu Nicholls’s neat cottage, but nothing stirred there. Then he directed her to the edge of town. “There he is!” He pointed to the handsome dog lying under an oak tree in front of a large home on the hill. “What a beauty! Look at the muscles on him.”

Jonelle looked at the dog. And she watched the avarice on Zane’s face as he drank in the sight of the big dog.

“Looks to be part shepherd,” he muttered. “And he’s been trained for endurance. He won’t die quick.”

“Are you nuts? That’s the sheriff’s house!”

He blinked, then his smile spread. “It just makes it a challenge, darlin’. Park here.” He put on a heavy coat and gloves.

The dog lifted his head when Zane approached. Jonelle shook her head. Funny how most dogs could sense danger.

“Hey, Samson,” Zane said softly. From his pocket he pulled a steak in a plastic bag. “Look what I have for you.” He opened the bag and held out the meat.

Jonelle grinned when the dog sniffed it then took it delicately in his mouth but didn’t eat it. Zane may have been outsmarted. Samson continued to eye Zane warily.

“Eat it, pooch.”

Jonelle knew the meat was laced with a sedative. Samson laid it on the porch and gave it a lick.