Monster (49 page)

“Mrs. Bly?”

STEVE BENSON >had gotten a call from Evelyn’s mother in the middle of the night and arrived at the Clark County Medical Center in West Fork before two o’clock the next afternoon. He could sense fatigue chasing him down the hospital corridor, but he knew he had the stamina to outrun it. He strode down the hallway, weaving past patients in wheelchairs, past nurses and doctors, intent on finding Room
31
. He was aware of people staring at him as he passed. A towering man dressed in rugged, outdoor clothes, he knew he looked out of place in that white, sterile environment, and yes, he did look like he’d driven half the night, his face a blackening stubble and his eyes glazed and intense. They could stare all they wanted, he thought. His priority was to see Evelyn and find out if his brother Cliff had been located.

He spotted the nurses’ station and the sheriff’s deputy waiting there for him—at least she was dressed like one. At the sight of her, his impatience went up another notch. What was the sheriff’s department thinking, “Aw, the Cliff Benson thing’s no big deal, only a minor case, send the girl”? She looked to Steve like a green-as-grass rookie: auburn hair trimmed neatly at the neck and not a hair out of place, as if she’d never done a moment’s police work. Lean, fit build. A china-doll face. He also noticed she looked ill at ease, wound up, like it was her first day on the job.

Great. Just great.

She was looking his way.
Don’t try to stop me, young lady.

“Can I help you?” she asked, walking toward him.

“I’m Steve Benson,” he said, coming to a halt to keep from running over her.

“Mrs. Benson’s brother-in-law?”

“That’s right,” he answered, letting her shake his hand but already looking past her, toward the corridor beyond, anxious to see Evelyn.

“I’m Tracy Ellis, the county, I’m the—I’m with the Clark County Sheriff’s Department,” she was saying. Yeah, she was nervous all right. It was understandable. “Evelyn’s mother said you were coming. So you’re the brother of the—uh—”

Steve finally gave her his full attention, if only to get around her. “Cliff Benson is my brother.”

She seemed to grope for her next question. “Are—are you alone? Has anyone come with you?”

“I’m alone. Let’s cut to the chase here. I want to see my sister-in-law, and I want to know if you’ve found my brother.”

She read his face and his tone, dropped her eyes for a moment, then finally said, “Evelyn is alive, safe, sedated. No serious injuries. She was cut and bruised and in shock when the truck driver brought her in, but she’s resting now. She’ll be all right.”

Steve did not miss the fact that she’d told him only about Evelyn. But before he could speak, she touched his arm. “Could we sit down first, just for a moment?”

“What for?”

She only answered gently, “Come on,” and led him to a waiting area just off the hallway, a spacious room with comfortable chairs,
People
magazines, big windows. He sank into a soft chair by the window, a chair already warmed by the afternoon sun. It felt better than he’d expected; his body was giving him hints about needing rest, hints he’d been ignoring.

Tracy Ellis pulled a chair over so she could sit opposite and close. She was holding a folder, no doubt the details of the case gathered thus far, Steve thought, but he noticed she didn’t open it. Instead, she just looked—he could see she was struggling to find words.

But her expression said enough. He could read the truth in her eyes, feel it boring into his guts, overpowering his hopes, dashing his strongest desires to not believe.

“Is my brother dead?”

She still hesitated. Finally she said, “Um, we need a positive identification of the body, but . . . yes, it’s almost certain that your brother Cliff is dead.”

A flicker of hope returned, but only to torment him. “What—what do you mean, almost certain?”

She quickly opened the folder and scanned her notes for specific information. “Did—” She flipped to another page. “—your brother Cliff have a scar on his right leg, uh, on the side of his thigh?”

Steve took a deep breath. He could feel himself going numb.

Her face was full of apology, but she was waiting for an answer.

He nodded. “He, uh, shot himself in the leg with a pistol when he was sixteen. He was trying to show me his quick draw.” He could see it all: the hand-drawn paper target tacked to the old oak tree out behind the house; Cliff, tall and gangly, with that holster tied to his leg and that drooping cowboy hat. Clint Eastwood, move over. “He was—he was a crazy kid.”
And I loved him for it.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?”

“We’re not sure. Last night, a truck driver found Mrs. Benson alone on a logging road up on Wells Peak. She was in shock and incoherent, but had some ID on her. We called her home and found out from one of her sons that she and your brother had gone camping together. We found your brother’s body on Wells Peak early this morning.” She paused, then said carefully, “By the looks of things, we think he may have been the victim of a bear attack.”

May have been? “You can’t tell a bear attack when you see it?”

His tone was sharp; he was in such pain he couldn’t help it. He noticed that she took it well, remaining calm and pleasant though visibly tense. “We don’t have all the information yet. First of all, bear attacks, if that’s what this was, are extremely rare around here, at least the reported bear attacks, and—” She hated to admit this. “—we’ve never established a procedure for expediting a case of this sort. In this part of the country, it takes time to gather the personnel and work out the logistics. Now, your brother’s body was taken to the morgue in Oak Springs— that’s over the pass, about thirty miles from here. The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow, and we’re hoping the county medical examiner can make a determination. In the meantime, we’ve contacted the Department of Fish and Game, and they’re going to get some people out here—”

“Marcus DuFresne?”

She stopped. “Uh—excuse me?”

“The conservation officer with Fish and Game. It’s Marcus DuFresne, isn’t it?”

She cocked her head. “You know him?”

“We’ve worked together. I helped him tag some bears last year. Is he on this case?”

She hesitated just a little, but replied, “Yes, I think he is.”

Nervously running his hands through his straight, black hair, he said, “I’d better get in touch with him, then. We’ve got to get right on this before the signs fade, before we lose the evidence—”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. DuFresne is well qualified—”

“We both are. It’ll take both of us.” Steve was aware he was talking too loud, too fast, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was as if he were putting all his pain and anger into a course of action, into something he could control.

“Mr. Benson.” She raised her hand to cut him short. “Give it some time. You’re too close to this—”

“We don’t have time!” he snapped. “If this was a bear attack, the signs could fade within hours.”

“There are qualified people working on this—”

“You want qualifications? Is that it?” Steve said, raising his voice. “Would a Ph.D. in biological science be good enough for you? How about a professorship at Colorado State University, teaching environmental science and biology? I know bears, Deputy! I’ve specialized in grizzly and black bear behavior for the past ten years. I’ve consulted with the National Park Service, I’ve chaired twelve boards of inquiry into bear attacks, I’m currently doing research on grizzly habitat and seasonal use in Glacier National Park. As a matter of fact, I’m even in the process of writing down some of what I know, and you can read all about it when I finish my book, but for now, I’ve got a brother killed and a possible rogue bear responsible, and . . .” He stopped, exhaled a long sigh, and leaned forward, resting his head on his fingertips. He had gone too far, and he knew it.

Her calm and soothing response was much to her credit. “Dr. Benson, why don’t we get you in to see your sister-in-law? We can talk more after you see her.”

His tone was softer, apologetic. “I would greatly appreciate that.”

SHE WAS more than just an in-law. Steve had known Evelyn long before she’d fallen for Cliff. He’d even dated her a few times himself. She was a longtime friend, a kid sister, a tease, with just enough edge to make her perfect for a guy like Cliff. As he stole quietly into her hospital room, he saw her mother, Audrey Miller, sitting beside the bed, holding her hand. A bouquet of flowers was on the bedside table and classical music was playing softly from the built-in radio.

Steve didn’t know what to expect, but when he saw Evelyn lying on the white sheets, pale and weak but safe and cared for, the sweet knowledge that she was alive overwhelmed him, and he began to cry.

Audrey turned and her face lit up. She spoke in a hushed, bedside voice. “Steve! Oh, hello,” and then she rose and embraced him as tears filled her eyes. They held each other for as long as it took to exchange comfort, sorrow, understanding. There were no words.
What could be said?
Steve thought.

He looked at Evelyn. Her face was turned his way, but her expression was listless. She gave no hint that she recognized him. Audrey kept one arm around Steve as she followed his gaze to the bed.

“She’s still in shock, I think.”

Steve approached, bent down, and looked into Evelyn’s eyes. “Evie?” he said softly. “It’s Steve.” For a moment there was no response. Then, like a delayed reaction, her eyes came to life and looked into his. Her lips quivered slightly, then formed a very weak and slurred “Steve
. . .
”

She’d been through something horrible, Steve thought. Her curly black hair was still matted with dried blood, her face and hands marred with cuts and bruises.