“Oh, pooh.” Tabitha Scala waved off that sentiment with one long-fingered, be-ringed hand.
“I thought Richard was coming.”
“Of course he is,” Tabitha said. “Why else would I be here? But Thomas said Richard warned he might be late, so we’re stuck with Tubby Tom, at least for a bit.” She was dressed in her usual costume of long, flowing caftan and open-toed canvas sandals, with a colourful headscarf tied at her nape and streaming down her back. Multitudinous beaded necklaces twined around her slender neck and dozens of narrow silver bracelets clinked and tinkled on her thin wrists.
Thomas knocked sharply on the rostrum’s wooden surface. “All right, everyone. If you could please take a seat, we’ll get going.”
It was a sparse crowd, and three times as many chairs had been set out as were needed. It would have been better, June mused, to have put out too few chairs and bring in more only if necessary.
RiverForce Environmental Group consisted mostly of undergrads in the Natural Resource program and a few concerned residents such as Tabitha. June had joined a couple of years ago, and it hadn’t taken her long to see that the group suffered from good intentions without a strong guiding focus. The main goal—if the group had such a thing—was to alert residents to the signs of poaching, and to let them know what to do if they discovered such evidence. Most of the members’ time was spent at various trade shows and exhibitions, manning information booths.
All that was changing now.
Thomas requested volunteers to make a motion and to second the agenda. Two hands were lackadaisically raised, and he noted the names. Tabitha whispered caustic comments in June’s ear as he reviewed the minutes from the last meeting. People shifted on their chairs restlessly.
The door flung open, and Richard Fleetham marched into the room.
“Oh, goody,” sighed Tabitha.
“Hello, everyone! Sorry I’m late.” Richard walked briskly down the centre aisle and slapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Where are we?”
Everyone sat up straighter. The entire room seemed to fill with fresh air and crackling energy.
A new instructor at the university, Richard Fleetham had become faculty advisor to RiverForce, and was breathing new life into its well-meaning corpse. It wasn’t only his vigorous speech that enlivened the group. Everything about him seemed coiled and ready. He was constantly moving—snapping his fingers, tapping his feet. Even his thick black hair, tightly curled and springy, seemed infused with vitality. He often scrubbed his fingers through it as though combing ideas and thoughts out of his brain. Bushy eyebrows grew forcefully above snapping green eyes, and he sported a luxuriant beard he kept ruthlessly trimmed into a smart goatee.
“We were beginning to discuss the government’s new hunting regulations.” Thomas stepped deferentially away from the podium.
“Excellent, excellent.” Richard clapped his hands together delightedly.
He had a way of using just the right tone and words to inspire his listeners. And while he preached strongly against poaching and other, more controversial issues, he never appeared militant or fanatical. He was always willing to hear the other side of the story, and usually found a way to diffuse any contentious situation. He’d only moved to the community a few months ago, yet was recognized often on the street due to his appearances on local media. RiverForce had received more publicity since Richard had come along than in all the years before.
“Thanks very much for handling things until I could get here.” Richard patted Thomas again and the younger man preened. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll carry on.”
With Richard at the helm, the meeting zapped along. Even dry government red tape had redeeming points of interest when he was presenting it. Tabitha actually paid attention and made reasonable suggestions, instead of muttering sarcastic comments. In little more than an hour all the necessary business was finished, and people began to straggle out.
“Come with me.” Tabitha grabbed June’s wrist and made it impossible for her to do anything but. “I want to talk to Richard.”
“Of course you do,” June mumbled under her breath. If everyone else had been energized by Richard’s leadership, Tabitha had been absolutely galvanized. Unfortunately, it wasn’t necessarily because of his dedication to the cause.
“June! Tabitha! How are you?” Richard greeted them.
Tabitha released her hold on June and laid her hand on his arm. “We wanted to say how much we enjoyed tonight’s meeting.”
“Glad to hear it.” He gathered up the loose pages littering the top of the podium. “It’s great to work with such a devoted group of people.”
“We missed you at the Natural Resources Expo.” Tabitha pouted slightly. “I wish you could have been there.”
“Yes, sorry about that, but you know I had a conference in Vancouver. It’s very important we work with all levels of government, help them understand our needs and priorities here in the North.” He turned to the whiteboard, picked up an eraser and started wiping away his notes. “How did it go?”
“It was fantastic. Lots of people stopped to chat. In fact, we ran out of brochures. Rachelle and I managed between us, even though June bailed on us.” She shot June an impish look.
“I did not bail on you,” she couldn’t help exclaiming in self defence. “I never once said I would help out that day. You know I’d planned to go to Longworth then.”
“Longworth?” Richard said absently, tucking papers into a folder. “What were you doing there?”
“I took a few days to hike around. Actually, it turned out to be kind of interesting. I met a conservation officer and helped him find the carcass of a poached grizzly.”
“No!” Tabitha said, distracted from Richard at last. “What happened?”
June told them about her adventures. Tabitha’s eyes widened. When June mentioned the shots she’d heard, Richard banged his knuckles on the metal shelf of the whiteboard and dropped the eraser. His horrified gaze never left her face.
“I have to say, chasing after someone with a rifle is certainly...intrepid,” he said, rubbing his hand, “but, really, I can’t encourage a repeat of it. You know we are mainly a public relations organization. You should leave the catching of criminals to the experts.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll have the opportunity to make it a habit. I do have to say, seeing that poor animal made me realize how important our work is.” She shrugged off the dismal memory. “Although some good might come of it. Alex invited me to his office to have a tour, meet some people. Maybe I’ll have a foot in the door when it’s time to find work after graduation.”
“You take care of yourself, sweetie,” Tabitha said. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“No,” Richard said as he bent to pick up the eraser, “we wouldn’t want that at all.”
The setting sun stretched out shadows to impossible lengths as June and Tabitha walked toward the older woman’s vintage Volkswagen and said their goodbyes. June had to grin as the battered Beetle swung out on the one-way ring road circling the university, Tabitha’s arm waving out the window, beads and bangles glittering.
Her own, not quite so ancient, little red pickup was parked all by itself three rows away. The parking lot had been about two-thirds full when she arrived, but at this time on a Sunday evening only those suffering from a surfeit of desperation or dedication were still here, and vehicles were now few and far between.
She dug in the capacious bag she used as a purse, conducting the usual frustrating search for her keys. It wasn’t until the motorcycle was within striking distance that she realized her danger. Moments later, the outstretched arm of the black visored rider struck her fiercely on the side of the head and knocked her spinning, scraping, twisting to the rough pavement.
Chapter Four
Stunned, she sprawled on her stomach on the gritty ground. The vibrations of the machine washed through her body, and dynamic oily swirls danced behind her eyelids. Painfully she opened her eyes. The sun blazed blindingly into them, silhouetting the geometric outlines of the buildings. The glare dimmed as the motorcycle rolled between her and the setting sun. She heard the crunch of its tires and felt the heat of its engine. Fear of robbery, of rape, forced her to her knees, ready for flight. The rumble of the idling engine increased to a roar, and the bike took off in a rush.
The noise of its escape faded away. Tiny pebbles dislodged themselves from her cheek as she crouched, head hanging.
Her bag had been knocked from her arm when she’d spun to the ground, and its contents were scattered everywhere. Her keys lay mockingly close at hand, glittering in the last rays of the sun.
A steady, buzzing tone reverberated in her brain. She crawled gingerly, gathering her belongings, carrying her aching head cautiously on her shoulders. A bruise stiffened her hip, and various scratches and gouges complained loudly.
She pulled herself into the driver’s seat, then delicately lowered her head to the steering wheel. Nausea welled up, burning the back of her throat and into her sinuses. She briefly considered calling for help. Oddly enough, Alex was the first person who came to mind. Breathing deeply and evenly, she quelled the worst of her symptoms, then put the truck in gear, and drove home.
****
“You say this rider was aiming for you specifically?”
“He had to be. There was no one else in the lot, hardly any vehicles at all.”
It was Monday morning, and June had presented herself at the local RCMP detachment after considerable internal argument. She’d woken up feeling reasonably well and debating the need to cause a fuss. But she couldn’t ignore the deliberateness of the attack, and decided it would be best to make an official report.
“You keep saying ‘he.’ Do you have any reason for that?”
“Not really. I didn’t get a good look at all.” An image flashed into her mind. “His boots. He was wearing those heavy motorcycle boots, and his feet were really big. I was nose to nose with them for a second, before he raced away.” She shrugged. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
The skin on her forehead was tight, a result of the large goose egg rising there, and she had a stinging three-inch scrape along her jaw bone. Constable Wendy Hoffarth made meticulous notes on her injuries, and even snapped a number of photos. The officer had dark blond hair shorn close to her head, a compact build, and a brusque manner.
“And you can’t think of anyone who would have a reason to do this?” Stern blue eyes stared at June.
“Look,” she said. “I wanted to get this on file so there’s a record of it. But I’m sure it was a random wing-nut. I was the only person in the lot at the time. Someone must have done it for kicks.”
Hoffarth studied her awhile longer, then relaxed into her chair. “There was no robbery, and no attack after the first blow, which seems very odd. You didn’t get even part of the license plate?”
June shook her head, carefully, as a hint of headache still lingered.
“If anything else happens, be sure to update us.” Hoffarth closed her notebook. “And meanwhile, I’ll get the information, such as it is, into the system.”
“Thanks a lot,” June said. “And if I go missing, do search for me, won’t you?”
“We’re here to help.” Hoffarth answered the sarcasm cheerfully. “Seriously, we’ll do what we can. And make sure you let us know about anything out of the ordinary.”
****
Alex sat in his office, swivelling his chair back and forth, scowling at the photos spread across his desk. His space was standard government-issue, ten feet by ten feet, walls painted dark beige, dusty horizontal blinds hanging on a narrow window with a view of the parking lot. A battered black filing cabinet was tucked in the corner, a large map of Northern British Columbia filled most of one wall, and a well-used whiteboard another.
The photos were ones he’d taken at the poaching scene on Longworth Mountain. He’d studied them often over the last few days, but saw nothing useful. With a low growl of frustration he gathered them up and stuffed them in a file. His phone rang.
“Alex Weaver speaking.”
“Hi, Alex. It’s June Brandt calling.”
“Hey, how are you?” He’d also spent a fair bit of his time over the last few days thinking of June, wondering if she would call, wondering how he might be able to track her down if she didn’t. “How was the rest of your time on the mountain?”
“Fine, thank you.” Her voice was brisk and bright. “I thought I’d take you up on your offer to come visit the office. Before you forgot you made it.”
“I wouldn’t have forgotten. Right now?”
“I can be there in five minutes.”
He straightened a stack of folders, tossed a couple of pens into a drawer and swept the rest of the tidy office with a critical eye. When the front desk called, he headed down the hall to meet June in reception.
She was studying a poster on the wall, cool and casual in a dark blue scooped neck top with no sleeves and well-fitting jeans. Attraction jolted deep in his gut.
She turned to greet him and he started. A purplish lump marred her forehead and a rough, red scrape stained her pale cheek.
He moved swiftly to her side. “What happened to you?” She flinched as his fingers skimmed over the swelling.
The corner of her mouth quirked. “I was in a bit of an accident yesterday.”
He took her chin in the tips of his fingers, turning her head to inspect the damage. “I’d say so.” His hand dropped to her waist to shepherd her through the doorway. “You can tell me all about it in my office.”
He directed her to a chair and hunkered down next to her, taking her hands in his.
“Was it a car accident?”
“I guess you could say so.”