The Fourth Bear

25. Back to the Forest

Most attractive police officer at Reading Central: In a recent poll, PC Philippa Piper (a.k.a. “beautiful Pippa in the control room”) was voted the most attractive officer at Reading Central. Her delightful temperament and bubbly personality coupled with her fresh-faced, youthful good looks have made her not only the most sought-after prize of anyone currently without a partner at Reading Central but also the subject of fevered bets as to whom she might eventually choose as her consort.

—The Bumper Book of Berkshire Records , 2004 edition

Within minutes the silver Allegro was bowling down the road, heading for Andersen’s Wood as quickly as Mary could drive. Jack was worried. Ed had sounded scared, and when a five-hundred-fifty-pound male bear with nothing above it in the food chain is frightened, then you are sure to take notice. The sun went behind a cloud as they entered the forest, and the whole world seemed to darken. Mary slowed down instinctively but hit a speed bump anyway. Everything loose in the car was tossed in the air as they landed.

“Er, right here isn’t it?” said Mary as they counted the turnings off the tarmac road.

“Next one, I thought.”

“Are you sure? I recognize that broken branch.”

“Did you? What about the fertilizer bag?”

“Probably blew away.”

Mary stopped and backed up, ignored Jack’s advice and bumped down a forestry track. They found the three bears’ turning after about half a mile and drove up the grassy track. The cottage was exactly as they had last seen it, except for the absence of any smoke from the chimney. They stopped the car and got out.

“Wait!” said Jack in a soft voice.

Mary paused. “What?”

“Hear that?”

Mary strained, but no sound could be heard.

“No.”

“Exactly,” murmured Jack, and moved on. The forest was deathly quiet. Mr. Bruin had told Jack that the forest could speak, and Jack realized now what he meant. A drum beating is ominous, but ominous changes to threatening when it stops. A sense of foreboding closed over both of them, a feeling of danger that seemed to roll in from the forest like a wave.

“Shall I call for backup?” whispered Mary.

“Not yet. They might just be out.”

Jack knocked at the front door as Mary went around the back. There was no answer, so he lifted the wrought-iron latch and pushed on the door. The sun came out as the door swung open, and a shaft of light illuminated the large room through the front windows. Amid the mess of what looked like a flagrant act of vandalism—smashed chairs and emptied drawers—Ed was lying in a heap beside the fireplace, a mountain of brown fur. A lake of dark blood had formed next to him and was still moving slowly outward. By the piano was another mound of fur, this one dressed in a pretty floral dress. It was Ursula. Jack quickly unlocked the back door and let Mary in.

“Oh, my God!” she murmured. Jack ran back to Ed’s bulk and pressed his hand into the thick fur at his neck. He’d never felt a bear’s fur before; it would have been unthinkably rude to do so uninvited. It felt warm, but coarser than he had imagined.

“I can feel a faint pulse. Call the Bob Southey Medical Center and get a trauma team out here immediately. ”

Mary flipped open her cell phone and dialed a number as Jack looked at Ursula. Her eyes were open, and she was breathing in short gasps. He patted her paw and told her it would be okay, but she made no sign that she’d heard.

“Who’d want to kill the Bruins?” asked Mary, waiting for the phone to co

“Look over there,” said Jack grimly.

He pointed to the wall above the fireplace. In red aerosol someone had written: