A Sharp Solitude: A Novel of Suspense by Christine Carbo

Author:Christine Carbo [Carbo, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, Suspense, Crime, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9781501156335
Google: 5GBEDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B075RRR3LL
Barnesnoble: B075RRR3LL
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2018-05-29T05:00:00+00:00

Reeve

* * *

Present—Saturday

SNOW CRUNCHES UNDER my boots with each step. The air up here is cold but moist, and the snow has the consistency for making snowballs. The damp air in my lungs makes me feel out of shape, and that alone angers me—stubbornly pushes me to walk faster, to cover more ground. McKay darts back and forth just ahead of me. I’ve put a fluorescent orange vest on him so that hunters won’t mistake him for a deer or a small bear. It’s a hunter’s dream, this layer of snow, and they’ll be out tracking.

We’ve haven’t found any grizzly samples yet, but we have come across all sorts of different tracks: rabbit, black bear, deer, elk, moose, and even some kind of a cat, probably lynx or small mountain lion. A cat’s prints are always easy to detect because they splay outward, and since their claws are retractable, there are no visible claw points as there are in canine prints. I photographed all of them, even the whitetail tracks, just for my records. You never know when someone in the department might need extra proof that lynx or bobcat or other species reside in the North Fork area. Not long ago, the whole place was teeming with mule deer. Now you rarely see a herd, and researchers are still trying to figure out why, whether it’s drought, disease, fire decimation of their favorable foliage, or an increase in predators.

The buzzing in my head has steadily quieted as I’ve hiked. Now that I’m out in the mountains, I can think. It’s Saturday, and I haven’t heard from anyone from the county. Even though they told me I shouldn’t go far, they know this is my job. It demands that I go long distances out in the boonies. They can’t expect me not to go to work. That’s exactly what I’ll tell them if they do call. But in the back of my head, I hear their voices, imagine their questions: So why did you pack so much? Why did you take a tent and a sleeping bag? Extra food?

“Because,” I practice answering, seeing the plumes of my breath in the cool air, “we just had our first lower-elevation snow, which means the grizzlies are going to be moving higher and farther into the backcountry, searching out their hibernation spots.” I’m talking out loud, like a crazy person. McKay keeps glancing at me, but I continue. “And since they’ll be farther back, I’ll need to go more miles, take longer trips. Perfectly normal for my work this time of the year.”

But as I say it, I know I’m stretching the truth. It’s rare for me to camp this late in the fall, with the temperatures dropping below freezing at night. McKay peers at me again, his boxy head tilted to the side, trying to figure out if I’m giving him commands or not. “You’re fine,” I say in a lighthearted voice to him. “Heel up.” I call him closer to my side.

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