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In the pocket of the surplus army jacket Carolyn Van Slyke was caught dead in, the jacket they were pretty sure belonged to William McCaskil, was a piece of note paper. "B amp; C" was written at the top. Below was a list of numbers. Boone and Crockett and the measurements of a trophy animal, A
What, if anything, it had to do with Van Slyke's murder, she couldn't fathom. Had Carolyn seen and photographed this animal and so been killed and mutilated, her film stolen? Glacier didn't have trophy-sized bears, but there were other creatures: moose, elk, mountain lion. That didn't account for the omnivore food. And who would kill and mutilate a photographer for taking a picture of the animal? How would one be caught in a compromising position with a trophy-sized animal? It was feasible the poacher could pack the kill out. They needn't take the whole animal. Just the head.
Now there was a grisly picture.
A
"You asleep, Joan?" she whispered on impulse.
No answer from the neighboring tent.
"Goodnight then," she said and resolutely shut her brain off for the night.
Work was good: hard, hot, deerflies biting. Wretched scrambles through cutting brush with a heavy pack on was what A
Shortly after two p.m. they had the DNA hair trap assembled. Rory predicted the pickings from this site would be slim. He expressed the opinion that the North American grizzly was too intelligent to work as hard as they had just to roll in essence of rotted fish and eat a few huckleberries.
Rory was showing signs of being a kid and not the scared, suspicious shadow of an adult that A
The eighty feet of barbed wire stapled in a rough circle around a place that was only flat in Joan's imagination, they began the butt-and-heels slide down to the trail.
The next site to be disassembled was back the direction they'd camped. A luxury-since they'd be several nights there, they didn't have to carry all their gear on their backs during the day.
With a minimum of cursing and scratches, they regained the trail. As they caught their breath, the radio crackled out Joan's call number. It was the chief ranger asking for A
"You got a fax," Ruick said. "From some gal at the Tampa tourism office. Looks like a brochure for Fetterman's Adventure Trails. Nothing on it clicked with me. I'm guessing the alias was a fluke."
"Describe it for me." A
"Nothing out of the ordinary. It's a fax. The resolution isn't all that great. Fetterman's looks like a lot of those tourist trap places. Fun for the whole family sort of thing. There's a picture of what's probably an alligator. Let's see. Animal shows. Souvenirs. Looks like a kind of swamp tour thing with nutria being fed to gators. Kind of a mom and pop operation. There's a group picture on the back. Faces are a blur. Underneath. Let's see… 'Looking forward to new friends, George and Suza
"The gal who sent it has written in the margin, Adventure Trails was closed down after George Fetterman's death earlier this summer.' "
"How old is the brochure?" A
"Hmm. Lemme see, lemme see. Here. Nineteen ninety-six. Old. I expect nothing much changed in Adventure Trails from year to year."
A
In fact, A
"Joan! Stop!"
Joan and Rory turned to look back at her. A
"Tell me about that boy you've been e-mailing. The one making the map," she demanded of the researcher.
Chapter 22
Normally it would have been a hike of four hours or more from where they were to the tiny meadow where they had camped nearly a week before. They covered the ground in just over three, arriving an hour before sunset.
Having left tents, stoves, sleeping bags and the rest of their camping gear behind, they traveled light and moved quickly. Without the amenities the night would be uncomfortable but A
In truth she'd not wanted the added burden in the persons of Joan and Rory but, after she'd traded her theory for Joan's information, they refused to be left behind. It increased her sense of responsibility, yet she was glad not to be alone. Because she suspected the park radios were being listened to by people other than rangers, she'd made the decision not to call Ruick to send backup.
The decision was not as foolhardy as it appeared on the surface. No one could start for the high country till morning anyway. A
Leaving the trail before it neared Trapper Peak, A
A half-mile or so beyond their old campsite, on an upthrust of rock, A
A grunt and sucking sound told her Rory had dumped his pack at the base of the rock and gotten out his water bottle. Joan crept up beside A
"Not yet. Tell me again about the e-mails," A
"Okay. Right. Let me think." Breathewould have been as apt a word. A
"First e-mail about six weeks ago. Maybe more. The screen name is Balthazar. He says he's a high school student doing a research project on grizzly bears. He wants to know their ranges, de