Adrenaline flooded my body. I was rooted to the ground, unable to move, to think.
The bear sniffed the air, huffing slightly.
The sound shot through me. Do I run? Play dead? Climb a tree? I couldn’t remember. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t unstick my limbs.
A woman screamed, the shriek ripping up my spine.
The bear reared. He towered over six feet tall.
I spun away. Too fast. Too fast! My prosthetic leg didn’t react fast enough. I fell.
The two women raced away down the path toward the resort. I pushed against the ground to rise, glancing over my shoulder.
The bear had dropped to all fours.
Scrambling upward, I faced the charging grizzly.
Branches snapped. His huffing grew closer, his body larger. I was going to die. Again.
A blur of brown and black flew past me.
I turned.
Maverick, hackles raised, flew directly at the bear with a flurry of snarls and teeth. Holly flanked him, barking wildly.
The bear roared at the dogs, then took a swipe at Maverick. The huge dog dodged the paw and continued his barrage.
Holly got close enough to nip his leg.
He spun and swatted at her, allowing Maverick to get in a bite of his own.
The grizzly had enough. He turned and loped into the trees.
Holly stopped barking and trotted over to me. I hugged her. “Oh, you beautiful girl! You brave, beautiful girl.”
Maverick continued to bark, albeit more intermittently, as if to be sure the bear got the message.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Wyatt arrived, rifle in hand.
Behind him was Angie, panting from the run, face pale. “Dee Dee and Grace told us about the bear.”
“I’m fine.” I continued to pat Holly. “Let’s just say if I had the hiccups, they’re gone now.”
“We usually don’t have a problem with black bears.” Wyatt swung his rifle over his shoulder by its sling. “We’re very careful with food and garbage.”
“I don’t think it was a black bear. It was brown—”
“Black bears come in brown, cinnamon, tan, and a variety of other colors.” Wyatt smiled and waved me toward the resort. “He was probably just warning you off. We should have sent everyone out with bear bells.”
Or a loaded rifle. That wasn’t a black bear. I wasn’t going to argue with them, but I recognized that distinctive hump over the shoulder, broad head, and size. Only a grizzly has that body structure. When I used to trail ride my horse, I had to know the difference. Black bear = run fast. Grizzly = run for your life. I turned away from them and patted my leg to get Maverick to come closer. I felt the three rocks Scott had given me. I should have thrown them at the bear. Ha! That would have just made the grizzly mad.
I called Maverick’s name. The dog remained at a distance but stopped barking.
Angie started walking down the trail with Holly and me behind. Wyatt brought up the rear. Maverick slowly followed.
After a step, I heard it. My prosthesis had a tiny squeak. Great. Just what I needed. Maybe no one would notice.
Squeak.
Holly perked up and sniffed my leg.
Squeak.
I winced. There goes my career as a cat burglar. I hoped a small amount of plumber’s tape on the pin would help. I wouldn’t be able to get it adjusted until I returned to civilization.
Maybe I could ask for that bear bell and wear it to hide the sound? Come to think of it, a bear bell would have been handy during our outing. Wyatt mentioned how careful they were with garbage. If bears had been a problem in the past, we would have been given bells, or someone would have been armed to warn them off.
The lack of concern for bears was possible evidence that this bear had been deliberately lured close. Why?
Don’t assume the worst. When a bear needed to be live-trapped for relocation, the strong odor of sardines or tuna was the perfect bait. “Would the Department of Fish and Game be live-trapping a rogue bear?”
Angie stopped and turned. “Why would you think that?”
I shrugged and feigned indifference. “Just a thought.” A thought that sent a chill down my arms. What if it wasn’t the Rinaldis’ son who trashed the art room? What if someone did that to make sure we’d go to the pond, where a can of sardines lured in a bear?
That didn’t make sense. Roy had suggested we go up to the pond. Why would he be trying to frighten or hurt his guests? And just leaving out a can of sardines didn’t mean a bear would wander by. Right. Then why was my neck itching?
* * *
Bram pulled out of the parking lot and headed over to secure the fire scene for the fire marshal. His boss may have wanted that welfare check first, but he was close to the ranch and securing the scene wouldn’t take long.
From the county road, the burned-out shell of the barn was easy enough to spot. A quick interview with the owners made it clear they hadn’t seen or heard anything, and the livestock that had been in the building got out safely. The barn itself was falling down, and insurance would pay for a new structure. The owners seemed almost grateful for the fire.
As he surrounded the building with crime scene tape, he thought about that. Could the arsonist be up for hire—get rid of old buildings for the insurance money? Not particularly original, but possible.
The fire marshal arrived by the time he was done stringing the tape. This was a new guy. “Hey there.” He held out his hand. “Deputy Bram White, thanks for being so prompt.”
“Deputy. I’m Tom Meyer.” The young man shook Bram’s hand.
“Could I ask you a few questions about our pyromaniac?”
“Sure, but I don’t think you have a pyromaniac. That’s extremely rare.”
Bram let go and waited for the other man to continue.
“Pyromania is a mental illness. Most fires are set deliberately as a criminal act. The arson might be motivated by insurance, or some cause, or anger or vengeance. Possibly even impaired judgment. Or it might be a cover-up.”
Bram nodded. “The FBI profiler said as much but didn’t correct me on the pyromania. The way the owners reacted made me wonder if the arsonist isn’t someone up for hire.”
“Possible, but it’s not as if you can advertise your services.”
Bram chewed on the fire marshal’s words.
Tom cleared his throat. “I’m surprised you haven’t made more progress on this investigation.”
Bram’s face grew warm. “I seem to run into a lot of resistance.”
“From the locals?”
From the sheriff. “Something like that.”
* * *
The resort was a flurry of activity by the time we returned from the pond. “What’s going on?” I asked Wyatt.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” He spotted Roy and angled in that direction. I casually followed.
Roy was repeatedly running a hand through his white hair. He didn’t see me at first. “Wyatt, there you are. I take it no one was hurt?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “More guests are leaving. One said the bear frightened her and her daughter out of her wits. The other was in the cabin that had the dead raccoon. All three will catch a ride with Liam when he brings in supplies.”
“Did they—”
“Ask for a full refund? Of course. We do guarantee our guests will have the perfect vacation.” He spotted me behind Wyatt. His face flushed and he hurried over to me. “There you are, my dear. I hope this little adventure didn’t upset you too much.” He took my arm. “Let’s go into the gift shop and let me give you a little something to brighten your day.”
“That’s not necessary.” I really didn’t want a T-shirt or trinket from China, but Roy seemed insistent on moving me into the main building. He didn’t seem to notice my squeak.
“Some jewelry? Earrings for your lovely ears?” He moved behind the counter.
“Really, I’m fine. Maybe a bone for the dogs—”
“Not so much for jewelry? Maybe a collectable mineral from my collection? I have many fine specimens.” He pointed to a glass case displaying various rocks, all neatly labeled, at the back of the shop. “It’s the least I can do to make this right for you.”
I wanted to say the bear wasn’t his fault, that someone at the Mule Shoe might be luring bears to come closer, but I couldn’t be sure. Instead I held my tongue and made an effort to study the rocks. Most were labeled from Idaho and Montana. Keep him talking. Come up with something brilliant to say about rocks. “Um, what made you become a rock hound?” That’s the best you could do?
“At first guests would show me the rocks they’d found on their hikes and leave a few.” He joined me at the display. “I didn’t know anything about them, but several years ago we had a geologist guest. She identified the various stones and minerals for me. She owned a mining company and came back every year with her employees for our team-building course.”
“I’ve heard that mentioned. Is that stuff like you write something encouraging about someone and put it into an envelope, then open them and share?”
Roy smiled. “Not quite. Here at Mule Shoe we put together programs that address real workplace issues, like reliance on others during violent events, as well as self-reliance in deeply challenging situations. Here are some brochures.” He offered me a handful and I stuck them in my pocket. “Our geologist friend always wanted some kind of rock or mineral component. Before she left every year, she’d always add to my collection and look over the newest crop of rocks.” He unlocked a drawer under the case. Inside were a number of stones—some bland, some with embedded colored crystals. “She was in a terrible hiking accident recently—”
“She wasn’t, by any chance, the one who fell near the Devil’s Keyhole?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Roy’s brows had furrowed and lips thinned.
“I’m so sorry.” I quickly picked up a small, sparkling yellow rock. “Gold?”
“Fool’s gold. Iron pyrite.” His face brightened and he pointed at the different rocks. “I think this is jade, petrified wood, topaz, beryl, agate, and maybe tourmaline.”
“You know, G—” I almost said Golden Girl. “Um, I think Grace is a former science teacher. Maybe she can help you identify these.”
Roy smiled. “Why yes, that would be wonderful. I’ll ask her after lunch.” He pivoted to leave, then turned back. “Oh, and she’s more than a science teacher. Have you ever heard of Taborcrest Prep School?”
“Near Seattle? The most expensive . . . oh, that Grace Tabor. Doesn’t she also own the Tabor Inns and Suites, Tabor Foods, and Tabor Publishing?”
He nodded. “Her husband did, and when he passed, she inherited it all. She could buy this place in a heartbeat just for conservation purposes. And maybe she will.” He waved toward the dining room. “Lunch should be ready soon.”
Wyatt stepped into the gift shop and signaled Roy.
“If you’ll excuse me?” Roy quickly locked up the collection and followed Wyatt from the shop.
That was weird. I sensed his reason for offering me something from the store was to occupy me. He never asked me if I’d read Scott’s packet or investigated anything. It was almost as if he didn’t want to find out.