Rant of Ravens (17 page)

Trees crowded close on either side, branches scraping against the doors like fingernails dragging across a blackboard. Thin slivers of light filtered through the dense tree cover, casting lacy snowflake-patterned shadows on the ground and dashboard.

They hit a rock, and the springs in Rachel’s seat squeaked. She bounced. The seat belt snapped tight across her sore shoulder, making her wince.

Cecilia fiddled with the map. “How far do you think we’ve come?”

“To the end of the road.”

Rachel stopped and sized up the turnaround in front of her. It was a small area. Tire tracks matted the grass in tight circles, crushing the small white flowers growing like sprigs of rock candy in the thin soil. “We can’t leave the car sitting out in the open. We’ll have to find a place to hide it.”

Cecilia pointed to a large boulder on the left. “We could try sneaking it in behind that big rock.”

“Or we could try driving closer.” Rachel pointed to an area that appeared to open to the west of the wall of trees.

Cecilia looked doubtful. “If it was possible to drive in, don’t you think they would?”

“It’s more private without a road. But the closer we can get to the cabin, the better.” Rachel gunned the engine and headed down the line of trees, finding only one narrow opening. She maneuvered between the trunks of tall spruce, Douglas-fir, and ponderosa pine. Winding back and forth to parallel the footpath, she maintained the general direction of the X on the map. Finally, the trees grew thinner and closer together, and it became clear that they needed to find a place to park.

“We’ll have to walk from here. At least the car’s not noticeable from the clearing.”

“Let’s hope we can find it again,” Cecilia pulled two medium-sized backpacks from the trunk. Each contained a flashlight, a water bottle, and a jacket. She handed one to Rachel and shouldered the other. “And that it’s not dark before we get back.”

Rachel added the cell phone to her backpack even though it didn’t work in some places in the mountains. If they found Aunt Miriam and it worked from the cabin, Rachel would be thrilled.

They backtracked to the clearing and started up the small trail leading off in the direction Lark had marked on the map. The trees crowded together like pick-up sticks in a can. Sunlight struggled to reach the forest floor, and it grew colder.

After they’d hiked for half an hour, Rachel stopped. Was that a car she heard droning in the distance?

“Do you hear that, Cecilia?”

Cecilia’s face looked ashen. “It sounds like an engine. Do you think we should turn around?”

“Not after we’ve come this far.” Rachel calculated how much distance they had left to go. “We’re almost there. Another half-hour, tops. A mile and a half.”

“What if it’s Forest, or Mike and the sheikh?”

Rachel pondered the question. “They don’t know we’re here, so they’re not going to skulk up the trail. They’ll be talking. Business as usual. If they get too close, we’ll slip into the trees, wait until they’ve passed, then follow them.”

“How do you know they don’t know we’re here? Maybe Dorothy and Lark got caught.”

Rachel felt a prickle of fear, then a flash of guilt for having put everyone in danger. “You’re right, Cecilia. If you want to, I think you should go back. Just do me a favor, and stay out of sight so they don’t know I’m up here.”

Cecilia looked shocked. “I’m only asking sensible questions and pointing out the obvious. If you’re not interested in facing the truth, then…”

“We don’t have time to debate the issue, Cecilia. Either you’re coming or you’re not. Which is it?”

Cecilia sputtered like an angry chicken. “I’m coming.”

Behind them the engine noise droned closer, the vibration splitting into two distinct sounds.

“I think there are two cars,” Rachel said. “Come on, let’s hurry.” She pressed on up the path, her chest and lungs burning with the exertion. The altitude made her feel queasy and light-headed, and pulling deep breaths made her cough. Cecilia kept pace, and wasn’t even winded.

“Rachel, is that the cabin?” Cecilia pointed in the direction of a small juniper tree. The sharp peak of a roof stuck up.

Adrenalin pumped into Rachel’s veins. Her heart raced. A man’s voice in the distance gave her another jolt, and she swung the backpack off her shoulder and dug for her phone. The sun dropped toward Long’s Peak, throwing afternoon shadows across the tops of the trees. At best, they had another hour of daylight.

“Take this.” She pressed the cell phone into Cecilia’s hand. “Stay here! If I’m not back by the time those guys draw close, slip back in the woods and try calling for help. Walk around until you find a spot where you can get a signal.”

Cecilia planted her hands on her hips. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

“Shhhh!” Rachel drew another deep breath and exhaled. “Look, we don’t know who’s up there, or who’s behind us. It only makes sense that we serve as each other’s backup. If I’m not back by the time those men get here, let them pass and try calling for help. Then double back to the car. If I’m not back within an hour, get out of here. Do you understand?”

Cecilia nodded.

Rachel hugged her, started toward the cabin, then turned around. “Cecilia?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

The cabin sat in
the middle of a clearing. A wide, squat, log building with a multitude of screened windows. From any direction Rachel approached, she could be seen.

Damn!

She listened for sounds of the men on the trail, then for sounds from the cabin. A raptor screeched, but she couldn’t be sure if it was from inside or from the cliffs that reached toward the sky behind the cabin. A bee buzzed, gathering pollen from a cluster of yellow wildflowers. The meadow grasses crackled with heat while a cold chill pulsed from the woods behind her.

The best approach seemed to be from the rear of the cabin. The front had a wide, roofed porch, and the side walls could be seen from the footpath.

Rachel hugged the trees and circled around back. There was a door with two small windows flanking it. A set of rickety steps led to a small, square deck.

Here goes!

She crouched low to the ground, the way she’d seen SWAT team members do on TV when they approached a hostage situation. But somehow they were quieter. With every step she nailed a twig, jumping as it snapped, sure any second her position would be detected.

Nothing happened. No sounds from the cabin. No sounds from the men on the path. She hoped Cecilia was okay.

When she reached the back wall, she pressed herself flat against the logs. The windows were high, even for someone her height. She needed something to stand on. An old stump stuck out of the ground too far away to be of use, and it was the only thing in sight.

She tried scaling the logs, jamming the toes of her shoes and her fingers into the cracks, and pulling herself up. Every time she gained, a piece of bark flaked off the logs and she slipped back to the ground.

The back door had a window.

Gathering her courage, she crept up the steps. The second one creaked loudly.

Rachel froze.

She held her breath, counted to ten, then continued up the steps. Slowly she eased her foot off the offending board and stepped to the next higher one.

The small deck had two broken boards, forcing Rachel to lean sideways to peer through the window.

The cabin was larger than she’d realized. The back door opened into a kitchen with bright yellow curtains and a metal table with four folding chairs. There was a counter set up with a small propane cookstove, and a sink with a pump. A room off the kitchen appeared to be a bathroom. Rachel guessed it was more of an attached latrine.

She could see part of the main room. There were some homemade log chairs, a rocking chair, another table, and a staircase to the second floor. That had to be where the sleeping rooms were.

The cabin appeared empty. Where was Miriam? Had she been wrong?

Suddenly Miriam appeared in front of the door. Rachel gasped, stepped backward, and nearly fell through the deck. The boards splintered and cracked beneath her weight. The railing flopped as she tried to steady herself.

“Rae! What are you doing here?” Miriam propped open the back door and offered Rachel a hand. “How did you find me?”

“Eric and I figured it out.” Rachel grabbed her aunt’s arm. “We have to get out of here. I’ll explain everything once we’re back at the car.”

“What are you babbling about, dear? We can’t leave now.”

“Aunt Miriam, I don’t know why you’re up here, but we have to go. Trust me, please!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Miriam straightened her small frame and walked into the front room. Three birdcages sat on the floor near the fireplace. In Rachel’s guesstimation each one measured two feet by two feet by two feet. There was no way they could lug these cages out by themselves, much less escape detection.

The gyrfalcon spread his wings until the ends caught at the mesh. The baby peregrines hissed and spit.

She knew better than to argue with Miriam. Her aunt was strong-willed and stubborn, traits shared by most of the Wilder women. Arguing might make her tether herself to the bird cages, and they’d lose precious time. Rachel tried another tack.

“Look, you’re the prime suspect in the murder of Donald Bursau, and Sheriff Garcia thinks you’ve run away to avoid arrest. Or to sell the birds.”

“Nonsense. I’m here to protect them.”

“From whom? Forest?”

Miriam’s head drooped. “Fifteen years ago, your Uncle William and Forest got caught up in some scheme to raise money for an underground environmental movement. It was a radical notion for radical times. The peregrines were dying because of DDT use in South and Central America. It was a mass extermination of a wonderful species.”

“Whose idea was it? Forest’s?”

“No. They were approached by a spokesperson for the Environmentalists for Earth movement.”

The group that spawned PETE
. “Did Uncle William and Forest know each other back then?”

“Not well, but we lived in the same area. Forest was running for public office on the environmental ticket, and he knew of your Uncle William’s research through connections with one of the university regents. And through Charles.”

“Charles? I didn’t know he knew Forest.”

“Oh, they were old friends, from back in the sixties, until they had some sort of falling out.”

The sixties. That’s when Forest had first been arrested for environmental activism
.

“Do you know how they knew each other?”

“No, but Charles warned William to steer clear of any of Forest’s schemes. William wouldn’t listen.”

“Did he say why?”

“Just that any plan involving Forest was too risky to get involved with. William should have listened.”

Something didn’t add up, but there wasn’t any time to analyze the situation. Rachel stepped to the window and parted the curtains, peering toward the footpath. There was still no sign of anyone approaching, but it wouldn’t be long before the men who were following arrived. “Aunt Miriam, could we finish this discussion on the way back to the car?”

“I’m not leaving without the birds.”

“We can come back for them with Sheriff Garcia.”

Miriam planted herself in the rocking chair. “I’m not leaving without them.”

Rachel needed to convince her she was in danger. But how?

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not, dear?” Miriam sighed. She didn’t wait for Rachel’s reply. “Charles worked with William then, and they had a terrible argument. The plan was for William to note in the records that the eyasses died, and that he disposed of the bodies. Then he was to bring the birds here to meet with some Arab sheikh known for his interest in falconry. The sheikh was going to take the birds back to Saudi Arabia, hunt with them one year, then release them.”

“Sheikh Al-Fassi.”

“That might have been his name. I don’t actually remember.”

“So what happened?”

“William carried out his part, and met Forest and the sheikh with the birds. Toward the end of the transaction, someone spirited the briefcase of money off the table in the kitchen and disappeared with it.”

“A member of the Environmentalists for Earth?”

“Most likely. After that there were some bombings of DDT factories, and then that poor security guard died.” Miriam twisted her hands in her lap. “There were pictures taken of the transaction.”

“The ones Bursau acquired.”

“Environmentalists for Earth delivered a copy to William of the one with Forest, the sheikh, and himself. I didn’t realize there were others until Bursau showed up, claiming to have copies of more.”

“How did he get them?”

“He said he received them anonymously. I suppose we’ll never know for sure, dear.”

“From the same person who was blackmailing Uncle William?”

“Most likely. Early on, we were asked for money. And we paid. William could have been charged as an accessory to murder, or worse. The government considered the bombings acts of terrorism. Eventually the group disbanded. The more radical members formed a group called the People for the Ethical Treatment of the Earth.”

“PETE.”

Miriam nodded. “After that, the calls stopped. We thought it was over.”

Something was out of whack. “What part did Mike Johnson play in all of this?”

“None. He wasn’t involved at all.”

Rachel frowned. “Then who shot the photographs? Did Forest know they were being taken?”

“He claims he didn’t. He claims he was being blackmailed, just like us. Bursau had contacted him, too. The reporter intended to expose everything, including the upcoming deal.”

“What upcoming deal?”

“That’s what I asked when Charles told me. It seems Forest was planning to sell the eyasses and gyrfalcon to the sheikh, to get more capital to fund his upcoming campaign.” Miriam kicked the rocker into motion. “I didn’t want to believe it at first. Forest and William had made a pact never to involve themselves in anything subversive ever again, and over the years had worked together, using more mainstream methods to further the environmental cause. I truly believed that Forest had switched to fighting from the inside out, and was dedicated to changing the system with long-term effects. The Nettleman Bill is a perfect example. I never once doubted him. Until now.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Charles discovered some sheikh was scheduled to be here this week. He’s registered at the Black Canyon Creek Lodge.”

Charles
. His name kept cropping up. “Did you tell Charles about the photographs Bursau had?”

“Of course, dear. He and I are old friends, after all. But he already knew.”

Rachel recalled Charles’s words. “Miriam and I have decided to live together.” Pictured his fingers worrying the signet ring he wore on his right hand. The finger. The missing fingertip!

In the last photograph she’d seen, the person opening the briefcase had his face obscured, yet something in that picture had struck her as oddly familiar. She bet if they enlarged the photograph and looked closely at the hands, they would see a missing fingertip. Charles was the man in the picture! She’d pegged the wrong man! Charles was Raven.

“Aunt Miriam, we have to get out of here.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving without the birds.”

“But don’t you see? Charles is behind all of this. He’s the PETE member, not Forest.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Miriam rocked the chair harder, making it creak. The birds screeched.

Rachel described the picture of Charles holding the briefcase. “He thought he was safe, Aunt Miriam. He’d fooled all of you for years. He knew he was in trouble, though, when Bursau started asking questions and you told him about the copies of the photographs. Seeing his hands is all it would have taken for you to piece the puzzle together.”

Miriam’s face lost all color. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair.

“Aunt Miriam, did Charles ask you to marry him?”

Miriam’s head snapped up. “Yes. But I said no. He and I are friends, that’s all. I don’t think of him in that way.”

“He told us you agreed to live with him. Sort of a ‘trial marriage.’”

“That’s absurd. I agreed to no such thing.”

“It’s because, as his wife, you couldn’t be forced to testify against him.” Rachel wondered if Colorado recognized common-law marriage. “The point is—”

“Your niece is too damn smart for her own good.”

Rachel turned. Charles stood in the doorway between the front room and the kitchen, pointing a gun in her direction.

“Then what she’s telling me is true.” Miriam half-rose from the chair.

“Sit down, Miriam.” He strode into the room, a vision in camouflage. His pants and jacket were three shades of green blobs mixed with brown blobs. If Rachel hadn’t known better, she would say he was fresh out of boot camp. The diamond glittered from his earlobe. Light glinted off the steel shaft of the revolver. “I was hoping we could avoid this.”

Rachel hadn’t seen anyone follow him in, and there didn’t appear to be anyone out front. Had Charles come alone? She’d heard two vehicles on the road.

“Your friends from the cliff are out there,” he said. “So don’t go getting any bright ideas.”

“Why are you doing this, Charles?” Miriam reached out and touched his sleeve. He jerked his arm away.

“For Earth. There’s no more time for negotiation. It’s time to take back the land for the sake of survival. The land was meant to breathe. Without breath it can’t sustain life.”

Rachel sidled closer to Miriam while Charles pontificated, one arm stretched across the mantel. The gun barrel bobbed in time with the cadence of his voice. He didn’t seem to notice her movement, so absorbed was he in his own voice and message.

“It’s time to tear up the asphalt and allow the roads to rehabilitate to their natural state. It’s time to blow up the dams and let the water flow free. It’s time to tear down the cities, and allow the land to revert to its primeval state. Humans need to become animals again. Animals need to roam free.”

“Let me get this straight,” Rachel said. “You take an anti-society, anti-progress stance, and yet you drive a brand new SUV, wear a diamond stud in your ear, and aspire to live at Bird Haven.”

“Shut up.”

“Charles!”

“She’s screwed up the plan, Miriam.” His voice sounded gruff, apologetic. “She’s screwed up everything.”

“Exactly what was the plan, Charles?” asked Rachel. She could see Igor out the window now. He sat on the top step of the porch, leaning against one of the columns that held up the roof. “Were you planning to sell the birds for money to fund more of PETE’s activities, or just send them home with Miriam once you’d framed Forest and Mike Johnson for bird trafficking and murder?”

“You really
are
clever.” He smiled, but the forced warmth never reached his cold, blue eyes. “The birds were never for sale, but Bursau had guessed it was me in the photographs.”

Rachel thought back to his comments on the Nettleman Bill. She had construed them as negative, when in fact he’d been advocating a harsher reaction to Mike Johnson’s encroachment on Rocky Mountain National Park and Aunt Miriam’s land. She heard his words in her head. “The only thing that’ll stop him is someone hitting him hard in the pocketbook, like Miriam shutting down access so he’s forced to find an alternate route.”

From what she’d read about PETE activists, they believed in zeroing in on the most vulnerable point of a wilderness-destroying project. In this case, access. Without Miriam’s permission to cross Bird Haven land, Mike Johnson would lack the
access
he needed to obtain the BLM land permit.