started down the hill toward the trees, his eyes carefully surveying the ground, the surrounding forest. There were more elk tracks and droppings, but still no signs of bear.
The two trees bearing Cliff’s rope stood a short distance uphill from the denser grove of trees just below. One had its top broken off, as did two other trees in the grove just below. That was strange, Steve thought. There must have been a wind storm, although it had to have happened recently, since the splintered wood was still fresh and unweathered. Steve approached slowly, listening and looking, but there was no sound, no movement.
He stopped for a moment. He could see blood on the ground and on one of the tree trunks, now dry and brown. The grass in this area was matted down, the ground clawed and disturbed.
This was where it had happened.
Steve looked at Tracy. “The body was just beyond that tree,” she said quietly, pointing past the bloodied trunk.
Steve bent low and checked the ground carefully as he approached. He could make out no clear bear tracks, but apparently several animals had visited the site, sniffing and digging, overturning the sod and rocks, attracted by the blood.
He looked up. Cliff had used containers made of ABS pipe, virtually bearproof and effective in containing odors. This food cache could not have attracted the bear. Cooking, maybe; maybe just the smell of a camp and of people if the bear was habituated, but not this.
They continued to scour the area. Tracy found a jackknife Steve had given to Cliff two birthdays ago. Steve tucked it into his pocket and pushed aside the memories it brought back. There would be time for emotions later. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue checking out the site.
The firepit seemed clean and undisturbed except for a few boot prints, obviously those of Cliff and Evelyn as they ate their evening meal. Up at the campsite, two backpacks remained untouched, having no food or food odors in them. Two sleeping bags were rolled out in the tent but appeared unused.
Steve sat on a log near the tent and surveyed the area once again, pondering out loud. “Okay. They cook their dinner, eat, clean up. By now it’s getting dark—or maybe it isn’t, we don’t know—Cliff goes down to the food cache for some reason, maybe to stow the leftovers in an ABS container and hang it up on his rope. He startles the bear, the bear attacks him—” He stopped, bothered. “Then again, maybe not. The area’s too open for either to surprise each other.”
“Maybe he saw the bear going after the food and went down there to chase it away,” Tracy suggested.
“Maybe.” But he still wasn’t satisfied. “No, Cliff wouldn’t have gone down there and knowingly placed himself close to the bear. He’s been a wildlife photographer for fifteen years. He’s been in enough situations to know better.”
“What if the bear charged him up here somewhere, then dragged him down there?”
“Possible. But there’s no sign that anything happened around the firepit or the campsite itself, so it’s reasonable to think the bear didn’t charge up this way.” He looked toward the grove of trees where Cliff’s body had been found. “Did—” He had to force the question out “—did the condition of the body indicate . . . a scenario?”
No answer. He looked her way. She was sitting on a rock formation, cradling her rifle, looking toward the food cache. She must not have heard him.
“Do you understand what I mean?” Steve asked.
She looked at him, her expression quizzical.
He felt he needed to explain. “I’m trying to get some idea of how long the attack went on. Cliff had to have taken defensive measures, and obviously, Evie got involved at some point. It’s—” He knew he was asking for information that could pain him deeply. “I guess it’s time I knew the condition of the body, at least as much as I need to—you understand?”
Tracy looked at the ground. “I—I don’t
The two trees bearing Cliff’s rope stood a short distance uphill from the denser grove of trees just below. One had its top broken off, as did two other trees in the grove just below. That was strange, Steve thought. There must have been a wind storm, although it had to have happened recently, since the splintered wood was still fresh and unweathered. Steve approached slowly, listening and looking, but there was no sound, no movement.
He stopped for a moment. He could see blood on the ground and on one of the tree trunks, now dry and brown. The grass in this area was matted down, the ground clawed and disturbed.
This was where it had happened.
Steve looked at Tracy. “The body was just beyond that tree,” she said quietly, pointing past the bloodied trunk.
Steve bent low and checked the ground carefully as he approached. He could make out no clear bear tracks, but apparently several animals had visited the site, sniffing and digging, overturning the sod and rocks, attracted by the blood.
He looked up. Cliff had used containers made of ABS pipe, virtually bearproof and effective in containing odors. This food cache could not have attracted the bear. Cooking, maybe; maybe just the smell of a camp and of people if the bear was habituated, but not this.
They continued to scour the area. Tracy found a jackknife Steve had given to Cliff two birthdays ago. Steve tucked it into his pocket and pushed aside the memories it brought back. There would be time for emotions later. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue checking out the site.
The firepit seemed clean and undisturbed except for a few boot prints, obviously those of Cliff and Evelyn as they ate their evening meal. Up at the campsite, two backpacks remained untouched, having no food or food odors in them. Two sleeping bags were rolled out in the tent but appeared unused.
Steve sat on a log near the tent and surveyed the area once again, pondering out loud. “Okay. They cook their dinner, eat, clean up. By now it’s getting dark—or maybe it isn’t, we don’t know—Cliff goes down to the food cache for some reason, maybe to stow the leftovers in an ABS container and hang it up on his rope. He startles the bear, the bear attacks him—” He stopped, bothered. “Then again, maybe not. The area’s too open for either to surprise each other.”
“Maybe he saw the bear going after the food and went down there to chase it away,” Tracy suggested.
“Maybe.” But he still wasn’t satisfied. “No, Cliff wouldn’t have gone down there and knowingly placed himself close to the bear. He’s been a wildlife photographer for fifteen years. He’s been in enough situations to know better.”
“What if the bear charged him up here somewhere, then dragged him down there?”
“Possible. But there’s no sign that anything happened around the firepit or the campsite itself, so it’s reasonable to think the bear didn’t charge up this way.” He looked toward the grove of trees where Cliff’s body had been found. “Did—” He had to force the question out “—did the condition of the body indicate . . . a scenario?”
No answer. He looked her way. She was sitting on a rock formation, cradling her rifle, looking toward the food cache. She must not have heard him.
“Do you understand what I mean?” Steve asked.
She looked at him, her expression quizzical.
He felt he needed to explain. “I’m trying to get some idea of how long the attack went on. Cliff had to have taken defensive measures, and obviously, Evie got involved at some point. It’s—” He knew he was asking for information that could pain him deeply. “I guess it’s time I knew the condition of the body, at least as much as I need to—you understand?”
Tracy looked at the ground. “I—I don’t
Similar Books
When Friendship Followed Me Home
Paul Griffin
Hawke: A Novel
Ted Bell
Her Ancient Hybrid
Marisa Chenery
Dark Intent
Brian Reeve
Echo, Mine
Georgia Lyn Hunter
Strangers
Gardner Duzois
Plagiarized
Marlo Williams, Leddy Harper
Long Road Home
Joann Ross
What She Wants
BA Tortuga
The Countess De Charny - Volume II
Alexandre Dumas