The message was clear: Keep on pushing, and I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.
“Okay, dude, no problem. We’ll leave,” Brie said, standing and straightening out her ski pants. “Before we leave, I gotta go to the bathroom.” And with that she staggered off into the woods. Nate’s eyes traced her movements as she disappeared into shadow. She had not headed toward the rifle Dylan had leaned up against the tree, but that paranoid part of his brain wondered nevertheless whether she intended on circling back to grab it.
Across from Nate, Ed and Dylan sat staring back at him.
“So where are you really headed?” Nate asked.
One of Ed’s eyebrows perked up. “Excuse me?”
The expression on Nate’s rugged face was cold, emotionless. “You heard me.”
“What’s the problem?” Dakota said. “These guys are our friends.”
“Stay out of this,” he barked, his stare solid, unwavering. He turned back to the two men. “You lied to us before and I was willing to let it go, but something tells me you’re up to no good.”
The AR was sitting next to Nate, close enough that he could grab hold and bring it to bear before either man could close the distance between them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dylan said, waving his hands before him.
“Byron has neither a Canyon Street nor a Safeway.”
A dead cold silence followed for several seconds.
“We made a mistake, is all,” Ed said. “Got confused.” He pointed to the bottle of Grey Goose. “The booze. It’s the booze that got us all turned around.”
“You said it before you started drinking,” Nate shot back. “Unless you want me to believe you’re heading into an irradiated area, through deep snow, hydrating yourselves with shots of vodka.”
They fell silent again.
“I’ll ask you one last time, where were you headed?”
The fun-loving, easy-going glint faded from Dylan’s eyes. “We found what we came looking for. Wasn’t hard either. Tracks in the snow led us to the farm and then along the highway. It was almost as though you wanted to get caught.”
Dakota let out an audible gasp right as the crack from a rifle shattered the cool night air. For Nate, everything after that seemed to slow to a crawl. The rifle round zipped past Nate’s ear, thudding somewhere behind him. The same place where the horses were tied. The animals erupted into a deafening racket of whinnies and cries.
Nate spotted the shooter outside of camp, little more than a silhouette. He stood, raising the AR, and managed to pop off two rounds before Dylan sprang to his feet and grabbed the rifle barrel, jerking it up and off target. Now all three men were standing, Ed and Dylan reaching into their respective jackets for what Nate could only assume were weapons. With the end of his AR still tightly held in Dylan’s grip, his only chance was to draw his own. Next to him, Dakota sat frozen, her face locked in an expression of pure terror.
Nate’s pistol was in a hip holster under his jacket. He reached for it, only vaguely aware of another, sleeker form rushing toward them from out of the darkness. A moment later, a mass of fur and teeth leapt into the ring of firelight, its mouth open and aiming for the soft part of Ed’s neck. Ed was still fumbling for the gun in his jacket when the wolf’s jaws clamped down with terrifying and lethal force, crushing his windpipe. Both forms collapsed onto the ground, the packed snow around them turning crimson as Shadow shook his head. Dylan stared down in utter horror, which gave Nate the brief opportunity he needed to raise his pistol and put a bullet behind the man’s left temple. Dylan dropped next to his brother, both of them dead.
Nate then rushed to the edge of camp, ready to engage the shooter. Instead, he found Brie dead, the rifle lying next to her. It appeared the woman had done exactly what he hoped she wouldn’t do.
Satisfied they were no longer in immediate danger, Nate collected the rifle and returned to camp. There he witnessed a sight he hadn’t expected. Dakota was crouched next to the wolf, rubbing his chin.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Nate said, eyeing them warily.
“What do you mean? He just helped us.”
She did have a point. Nate reached out to show the beast some small sign of appreciation. His approach was met with a low growl from the back of Shadow’s throat.
Nate retracted his hand, frowning. “He doesn’t like me.” He went into his bag anyway and grabbed a can of tuna. “Love or hate, I’m sure he’s hungry.” He opened it, took some in his hand and held it out. “Let’s see what you do with this, big boy.”
Shadow swung his large powerful neck around, the corners of his nose dancing at the smell of food.
“There you go,” Nate said, triumphantly as the beast inched closer. “You don’t hate old Nate as much as you thought, do you?”
Shadow looked up at him with those dark eyes surrounded in amber. The animal tilted his head and then backed up.
Dakota laughed. “Here, hand it over.”
He did so. Dakota held the tuna in her open palm and at once Shadow went to town, licking her fingers even after it was all gone.
“Good doggie,” the girl said, ruffling the fur on his head. She turned to Nate. “Don’t worry. He’ll warm up to you sooner or later.” Then before Nate could reply, she said. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for before. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You have trouble with authority figures,” Nate said, closing his go-bag. “I suppose I can’t blame you, given your history and what not.” He was referring to the time she’d spent being unceremoniously shuffled from one bad foster home to another. “Anyone else would feel the same way.”
She quit scratching Shadow’s chin. The wolf sat there, staring back at her with a look that said, Hey, why’d you stop? When it was clear the chin scratch was officially over, Shadow got up and sauntered off back into the woods.
Dakota watched him go. Her gaze then fell on the two dead men lying around the dying campfire. She held out her hands, wielding an imaginary gun. “I should have listened to you, I know that. But that’s not why I’m ashamed, least not the only reason. When the shooting started, it felt like every joint in my body locked up. I was like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. Beth, my very first foster mother, she played the movie all the time. Thought it would keep me occupied. She didn’t realize I was way too old. Even so, it still left me yearning to click my heels and go back home. Not to my parents—they stopped representing home a long time ago—but to Uncle Roger. Of anyone, he’d be the most disappointed since I had a gun in my hand and I was too scared to use it.”
Nate didn’t say a word. He simply laid a hand on her shoulder. This young girl might have learned a trick or two about staying alive in the middle of winter, but she still had a lot to learn about overcoming the paralyzing effects of fear. Nate’s years as a beat cop and more recently as a PI had helped to hone those particular skills.
“You also knew they were lying,” she said, amazed.
“An old police trick,” he explained. “You throw out false information during an interrogation and see if the suspect goes along. He mentioned Canyon Street and my antenna perked up at once. Not enough to start shooting, but enough to lay a trap. There isn’t a Safeway grocery store anywhere in the county, so when he agreed his parents lived near one, I was convinced they were being deceitful.” Nate glanced down at the two dead men. “We better drag these guys off and bury them under a few feet of snow. Let spring take care of the rest.”
Dakota stood, glanced over her shoulder and let out a little cry. Nate swung around, still reaching for his pistol when he saw what she was looking at. His heart sank. One of the horses—Sundae—was lying in the snow, dead. The rifle shot meant for his head must have hit the mare instead.