Crossfire Creek Page 15

  “Shut up!”

  Caine froze, uncertain, then swiveled the barrel of the nine-millimeter so it pointed to the bear. He thumbed down the safety.

  “Costa was killed with a nine-millimeter,” Luke murmured as he tightened his grip on his own weapon.

  Pat did the same. “So was Marlene.”

  “And Costa’s the registered owner of a Colt Defender. But we didn’t find one at the scene.”

  Pat reassessed. He had a bear and a murderer to contend with. His dad always said the wise soldier takes out the fiercest enemy first. The question was, which enemy was fiercest: the man or the bear.

  He raised his weapon.

  Luke pushed Pat’s arm down to his side.

  “What the—?”

  Luke nodded. “Look at Rue.”

  Aroostine swept her visual field and clocked Luke Painter and Pat Banks coming up the hill. Joy-Lynn lay on the ground curled in the fetal position, screaming, just feet away from of a very agitated black bear. And Boyd Caine was aiming a handgun at the bear.

  “Joy-Lynn, be quiet for a second!” she shouted over the shrieking. Joy-Lynn fell silent.

  Without waiting for a response, she said in that same placid tone, “Joy-Lynn, I’m going to get the bear’s attention. When you hear me yell, roll to your left. Away from me and the bear. Just roll out of the way and get behind a tree.”

  Aroostine stared at the bear and recalled every lesson her grandfather had ever taught her about black bears. Timid and shy. Excellent climbers. Very curious. And, most crucially, they have a sense of personal space. If you get in a bear’s personal space, he will react.

  She drew a deep breath, girded herself, and ran straight toward the bear, clapping her hands and shouting ‘Now!’ Joy-Lynn rolled wildly to her left. The bear pulled back its lips to display its teeth. It growled a warning and lunged toward her. It was the most ferocious sight she’d ever seen.

  Aroostine came to a sudden stop, stamped her feet on the ground, and making a loud huffing noise. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and a cold sweat coated her skin. But the bear stopped, cocked its head, and gave her a bewildered look. If she hadn’t been scared to death, she would’ve laughed at the expression. After an endless moment, the bear dropped down onto all fours, turned its back on the chaotic scene, and lumbered away.

  Aroostine rushed Caine while he gaped at the departing bear. Someone—almost certainly Sasha—had once told her nobody holding a gun ever expected to be run toward. She lowered her head and rammed into his midsection while tackling him around the knees. He flew backward into the bear’s den and landed flat on his back with his head in a pile of scat. She scrabbled to her feet and trod down hard on his exposed right wrist. She heard the splinter and crack of delicate wrist bones.

  Ranger Painter ran toward Joy-Lynn. Special Agent Banks pushed Aroostine aside and dragged Boyd Caine out of the den. Banks wrenched the man’s arms behind his back and cuffed him, making no effort to be gentle with his damaged wrist. He pushed him back into the bear poop and radioed for the park police to come pick up the trash.

  In her peripheral vision, Aroostine saw the ranger guiding Joy-Lynn away from the scene and toward the Jeep, where he promised Rory and Rufus were waiting.

  It’s over.

  Aroostine closed her eyes and sank to her knees on the ground.

  She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see Pat Banks looking down at her with a faint smile and a glint of something—admiration, amusement, she couldn’t tell—in his eyes.

  “Did you … bluff charge a black bear?”

  She managed a laugh. “I guess I did.”

  He offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. “How did you know that would work?”

  “I didn’t. I’ve been bluff charged by black bears before. So, I sort of figured this one would know I wasn’t really attacking. I hoped so, at least.”

  “You hoped so.”

  She was still shaky from the sudden adrenaline spike, but she rose to her toes and pressed her mouth near the special agent’s ear. “It’s a little-known secret that black bears are the punks of the animal kingdom, Special Agent Banks.”

  “And what about gun-wielding murderers? You charge them, too. They’re not the punks of the animal kingdom, or are they?”

  “Lower order, more like pond scum.”

  He chuckled. She wobbled, and he gripped her waist to steady her. “Easy, Aroostine.” His blue eyes met hers and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek with his fingertips.

  She was suddenly hyper-aware of how very close together they were standing. She swallowed and took a step back, unable to break eye contact.

  After a heartbeat, he cleared his throat and looked away.

  “The vehicles are up this way.”

  He started toward the path, and she followed, trailing him on wobbling legs and making no effort to catch up.

  28

  Aroostine and Rufus spent the night with Joy-Lynn and Rory in the vacant ranger cabin, while Pat Banks and Luke Painter stayed awake until dawn running the crime scene investigation, interviewing Boyd Caine, and filing reports. A park police officer was posted outside the cabin. Aroostine suspected it was more an effort to keep reporters away than out of a legitimate concern about their safety. Either way, she appreciated it.

  Joy-Lynn and Rory curled up together in one bed, and Aroostine collapsed on the other with Rufus. She lay awake for several hours, staring at the ceiling and worrying about the long-lasting psychological effects the girls would suffer from their experiences. Joy-Lynn, in particular.

  Then she worried what, if anything, Special Agent Banks planned to do about her alias. He’d made it a point to identify her repeatedly and loudly as Aroostine Higgins to every officer, crime scene analyst, coroner, and prosecutor who wandered through the scene before she’d been escorted away.

  There was nothing to be done about any of it, though, so finally, when her energy-depleted brain and body could sustain no additional anxious ruminations, she fell into a restless sleep.

  She awoke to the sight of weak sunlight streaming in through the high windows and the sound of low voices in the kitchen. She glanced over at the other bed. Rory was sleeping with her head at the bottom of the bed and her feet on her pillow. Joy-Lynn lay on her side with one arm flung across Rory’s knees.

  Aroostine eased herself out of bed and pulled on the national parks sweatshirt someone had lent her the night before. She padded out of the bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. She entered the kitchen with Rufus at her heels.

  Luke and Pat sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

  “Morning,” Luke greeted her. He tipped his head toward the coffeemaker. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ordinarily not a coffee drinker, she could think of nothing she wanted more this particular morning. She took down a mug from a hook hanging over the sink, filled it with hot coffee, and added a splash of milk.

  She joined the men at the small table.

  “The girls are still sleeping. What’s the latest?”

  “The Assistant U.S. Attorney plans to charge Boyd Caine with two counts of homicide and two counts of reckless endangerment,” Luke told her.

  “Any motive for the Costa killing?”

  “He’s lawyered up, but the investigators say his finances are a hot mess. The early thinking is he was in deep to one of the loan sharks Costa worked for, which squares with what Joy-Lynn reported hearing. He owes too much money to ever pay back. Killing Costa didn’t solve that problem, but I guess it delayed the inevitable.”

  “There must be more to it than that.”

  Luke shrugged as if to say who could ever fully understand the criminal mind. “The prosecutor’s gonna request a full psychiatric workup. Boyd Caine turned up in Cherokee about seven years ago, said he moved back from Arizona. I won’t be surprised if his DNA matches an unsolved murder in at least one other jurisdiction in
the Southwest.”

  Neither would she. She sipped her coffee. “I wonder if he also wasn’t angling for a way into Porchino’s organization? Making his bones, or whatever. Although crime family enforcer would be a weird second job for a child counselor.”

  “That’s actually not a terrible theory.” Pat mumbled, apparently addressing the table.

  “Has there been a decision about Joy-Lynn?” She directed the question to Luke because Pat still hadn’t so much as glanced up from whatever he was reading to acknowledge her presence.

  “Well, she’s welcome on the Qualla. Ellis offered that up instantly. And I know there’s a good argument for placing her with the Cherokee. But … Rory and I sure would love to have her stay with us. We were wondering what you think about that.” He jerked his thumb to include Pat in the conversation.

  “What I think about it? I know Marlene made me promise to see that Joy-Lynn is taken care of, but I’m not sure I should get a say.”

  “He’s asking you because after your parents more or less abandoned you and your grandfather died, you were adopted by a white family. Is that what messed you up?”

  Pat’s barbed tone would have stung under any circumstance, but the fact that he didn’t even bother to meet her eyes while he insulted her cut deeper.

  Evidently, whatever warm moment had passed between them last night had been illusory. Or one-sided. Or, at best, temporary.

  She placed her palms flat on the table and pushed up to standing. She focused her eyes solely on Luke and fought to keep the ache out of her voice.

  “Joy-Lynn and Rory have a tight bond. She’ll be lucky to be welcomed into your home, and I know she’ll maintain close ties to her culture because of school and her connections to the Qualla. So I don’t think living with you will ‘mess her up.’ Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to walk Rufus.”

  She carried herself to the front door with all the dignity she could muster and jammed her feet into her boots without unlacing them. Without looking up, she grabbed Rufus’ leash and clipped it to his collar. She barely made it outside before hot tears began to fall, coating her eyelashes and making tracks down her cheeks.

  It was no surprise that Pat Banks had dug into her background. He was a criminal investigator, after all. But to weaponize her past and use it against her was low, even for him.

  She wiped her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. Rufus must’ve sensed her mood because he hewed close to her side for the entire walk, not even bothering to pretend to chase the squirrels.

  “That was unnecessarily dickish, don’t you think?” Luke asked as Aroostine shut the door behind her and stepped outside.

  Pat finally looked up from his paperwork. He met Luke’s gaze levelly. “No, I think it was the exact right amount of dickishness given the circumstances.”

  “And what exactly would those circumstances be?”

  Pat could feel himself wanting to squirm. It took considerable willpower to sit straight-backed and immobile under the weight of his friend’s look.

  “She’s a loose cannon. She’s not trustworthy.”

  “She bluff charged a bear and probably saved Joy-Lynn’s life.”

  “She’s the one who let Joy-Lynn go off with Caine in the first place. And if she hadn’t lied about her identity, Marlene might still be alive.”

  “How do you figure? I’m the one who left her alone.”

  “Yeah, well, I might have been here to relieve you if I hadn’t been busy trying to find out who Aroostine really was.”

  They lapsed into a tense silence. Finally, Luke said, “Respectfully, Pat. You’re being unfair.”

  “And respectfully, Luke, I don’t report to you. I need to head back to the field office. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Pat tossed a braided bracelet on the table. “This was on Marlene’s wrist. I thought Joy-Lynn would want it, so I took it before the medical examiner got to the scene.”

  “She will want it. Thank you. I’ll see that she gets it.” Luke put the bracelet in his pocket. “But, about Aroostine—”

  “Subject’s off limits, Luke.”

  He pushed back his chair and stalked to the door. He had things to do, things that would take him far away from Aroostine Higgins and the shadow of hurt she hadn’t been able to hide in her cognac-colored eyes.

  Special Agent Patton River Banks was long gone when Aroostine finally turned around and returned to the cabin, mainly because Rufus dug in his heels and refused to walk any further.

  Luke greeted her warmly when she entered the kitchen. Rory and Joy-Lynn looked up from two plates piled high with pancakes to call her name.

  Rufus positioned himself under the table to attend to any errant sausage links.

  “How are you doing this morning, Joy-Lynn?” Aroostine asked quietly.

  “I can’t believe Mom’s gone … and that Mr. Caine …” she stopped, choking on the words.

  Aroostine rubbed her back. “I know.”

  Rory reached over and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Dad said Joy-Lynn’s going to stay with us at our place.”

  Joy-Lynn mustered a miniscule smile. “Yeah.” Her eyes flicked up to Aroostine’s. “You’ll stay, too? I mean, in your camper. But you’ll stay? For a little while?”

  The girl had her mother’s funeral, more grief and betrayal than any kid should have to process, and, quite possibly, court testimony in her immediate future. And Aroostine had made a commitment to Marlene.

  “Of course I will.”

  She met Luke’s eyes as he passed her a plate of pancakes and mouthed ‘thank you.’

  While the girls ate, she picked at her breakfast. Finally, after they disappeared into the bedroom, she helped Luke wash and dry the dishes. Once the kitchen was spotless—or at least de-syruped—she sighed and said, “I guess I should talk to Special Agent Banks and get it over with.”

  Luke gave her a wry smile. “He left.”

  “He left?”

  “Headed back to the field office in a snit.”

  “Oh.” She wasn’t sure why the news stabbed at her, but it did. “Then I guess I’ll head back to my camper and get cleaned up for the day.”

  He nodded. “I have a parking pad at my cabin. We’ll check you out of the campground proper today and get you set up there. I appreciate your sticking around. I know it means a lot to Joy-Lynn.”

  “I couldn’t imagine running out on her now.”

  Left unsaid was that a certain ISB agent had run out on all of them.

  29

  Thanksgiving Day

  * * *

  Aroostine stood in the large dining room and counted the place settings at the long, rough-hewn table.

  Luke had finagled the use of an unoccupied lodge normally used to house research teams when they came to the park. With enough beds to sleep ten people and a full kitchen and bathroom, the residence was larger than most of the ranger units, including the one Luke shared with Rory, and now Joy-Lynn. And it was certainly larger than her pop-up camper. Even given its size, the structure was going to be stuffed to capacity with guests.

  Ellis had invited them all to a Cherokee Day of Remembrance event on the Qualla, which would mark the day in a solemn way. But Aroostine and Luke had agreed that Joy-Lynn had had her share of sad and somber occasions this season. So, despite the fraught history behind the day, they were celebrating it in the traditional American way—with friends, family, and far too much food.

  In the kitchen, Joy-Lynn and Rory were giggling. Their heads, one blonde, one dark, were bent over a pumpkin pie recipe. Through the large front window, Aroostine could see her parents and Joe’s returning from a walk along the waterfall trail, Rufus bounding along beside them.

  She almost hadn’t invited them. It was a long drive, and the Higginses and Jackmans had Thanksgiving Day traditions of their own back in Walnut Bottom. But, as Joy-Lynn had begun to absorb the shock of her mother’s death and ease back into her school routine, Aroostine had found herself missing her fa
mily.

  She wasn’t going to stay here forever, but she knew Joy-Lynn wasn’t ready for her to leave. And, in truth, she wasn’t quite ready to, either. So, she’d extended the invitation, and her parents and the Jackmans had jumped at the chance.

  Later today, after she ran her turkey trot, Sherry Wu, Joy-Lynn’s homeroom teacher, would also join them. Sherry and Luke had struck up a quick friendship as they helped Joy-Lynn adapt to her new life, and their relationship seemed to be gradually morphing into something more.

  As if to prove her point, Luke entered the room with shower-damp hair. He wore a button-down shirt and slacks and was holding an argyle sweater in his left hand and a nearly identical argyle sweater in his right.

  “Which one?”

  She considered the options. “The one on the left. It’ll bring out your eyes. I heard Sherry say she likes your eyes.”

  Luke flushed red, and she hid her smile.

  “Uh, thanks.” His gaze scanned the table. “You need one more place setting.”

  She furrowed her brow and did a quick recount. “No, I have nine.”

  “But we’ll need ten.”

  “Ten? Who else is coming?”

  But Luke pulled the sweater over his head and walked into the kitchen to check on the pie makers as if he hadn’t heard her.

  The distant sound of a car engine caught her attention. She grabbed her coat and stepped out onto the wide front deck. A green Jeep weaved along, bumping up the gravel path, headed directly for the lodge. Rufus broke free from the group of walkers and loped alongside the vehicle, barking a greeting. He recognized Pat Banks—or his Jeep, at any rate.

  Aroostine zipped her coat to her chin and jammed her hands into her pocket.

  Pat parked the Jeep beside her truck and got out to pet Rufus, who jumped up to greet him.

  “Rufus, down!” she called from the deck.