Mountain Fire by Brenda Margriet Read Free Book Online Page B

breaker. Pulling on thick socks, she thrust her feet into sturdy hiking boots. She was waiting on the sidewalk when Alex drove up. He unlocked the door, and she hopped in.
    He was wearing his uniform, and looked sexily official, especially with the aviator glasses hiding his eyes. “So, where exactly are we going?” she asked.
    “The supervisor of a tree planting crew gave me the coordinates from his GPS. This carcass was found about three miles from the other, as the crow flies.” He changed lanes to pass a lumbering motor-home with Texas plates. They crossed the Yellowhead Bridge over the Fraser River.
    “Could it be the same poacher?”
    “It’s certainly possible.”
    When they arrived at the airport, Alex parked next to a yellow, metal sided building. He unlocked the padlock securing a gate in the chain-link fence, and they carried their bags to the helicopter sitting on the tarmac.
    “You can stow your stuff in here.” He opened a small panel and moved aside to let her slide her pack in. “You can get in the other side while I do my checks.”
    The dash was a maze of instruments, some of which seemed fairly straightforward, others whose function she couldn’t even guess at. A headset hung on a hook by her head. She put it on and adjusted the fit. Alex swung into the pilot’s seat, put on his headset, flicked switches, and twiddled knobs. The rotors started to spin, gradually picking up speed. Vibrations hummed through the hull.
    After receiving permission from the tower, Alex began manipulating the two hand levers. The helicopter broke away from the ground with a small jerk. It was an odd feeling. Instead of the pressure she’d experienced in an airplane, which pushed passengers back into the seat, the sudden vertical lift gave the odd sensation of compressing her spine. She forced herself to sit up straighter.
    The nose dipped toward the ground and they floated forward. Through the plexiglass bottom of the bubble the pavement slipped away underneath her feet. They rose higher in the air, leaving the cluster of buildings behind, and negotiated a range of small hills studded with microwave and cellular towers.
    Alex controlled the craft using both hands and feet, his movements deft and sure. Once firmly on course, he looked over.
    “What do you think?” His voice came directly into her ears through the headphones, the motion of his lips strangely disorienting.
    She shouted back. “It’s fantastic!”
    “We should be there in twenty minutes or so.” He went back to monitoring the various gauges, and June soon became engrossed with the view out the window. She’d only ever flown in large commercial jets before, and couldn’t believe how tremendous the range of sight was without a wing in the way. She spied a moose in an old clear-cut, and watched its long-legged, high-stepping stride with amusement.
    They flew into a wide valley, and she spotted a haphazard collection of canvas coloured rectangles. As they closed in, the shapes sorted themselves out into eight to ten large tents, surrounding an even bigger structure with a green striped roof, reminding her of an old-fashioned circus big-top. A figure walked out from underneath it and waited in the grassy area outside the grouping of tents.
    Her stomach hovered in her abdomen as the altimeter dropped. Alex, operating the hand levers expertly, lowered the craft into the alpine meadow and shut off the engine. The rotors whined down, and stillness settled over them. A faint buzzing filled her ears.
    A tall, thin man wearing a grungy graphic T-shirt, khaki shorts sprouting a multitude of pockets, and a brightly striped toque, waved at them as they stepped out.
    “Hello.” He extended a hand to Alex. “I’m Ryan Persson. You must be the Wildlife guy.”
    “And you must be the Camp Manager.” Alex introduced himself and June.
    Lank, dark blond hair streamed past Ryan’s shoulders and his finger nails were chipped and lined with dirt. But his eyes were