Claimed, page 8
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure. Hit me.”
“What’s the actual policy on employees at the Wolf Study having dinner together?” He put his hands forward. “I’m not asking about you. I want to know if I can take Candy out. I think she’s single and I’m feeling lucky next week.”
Lydia started to smile. “You’ll have to talk to HR about that.”
“Who’s HR?”
“I guess I am. Considering our executive director is a little distracted right now.”
Daniel took a step forward, simply because his body wanted to be closer to her. “So, Ms. HR. Can I have dinner with you or not.”
The flush that hit her face looked nice, the color accenting her cheeks… the column of her throat… her lips.
“I thought this was about Candy?”
“I lied because I was trying not to be obvious. That way, if it wasn’t allowed, I wouldn’t have egg on my face with you.”
“And yet you blew your cover.”
“What can I say, I’m not a good liar.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “So what do you think. Just dinner. Nothing else—and it can be in a public place, too. You know, in case I’m a masher.”
“Are you a masher?”
“No, I’m not.” He thumbed out toward his motorcycle. “I have my anti-Masher ID in my wallet over there.”
“I didn’t know there was a governmental agency that dealt with masher clearance.”
“There are all kinds of federal nooks-and-crannies agencies like that.”
“Ah. The more you know.” She nodded toward his bike. “So Paul took care of you, huh?”
“Yup. And you think about dinner, although not this weekend, of course. I’ve got to go get my things, not that I have much.”
“Minimalism is underappreciated.” She laughed. “I’m funny.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He leaned in. “But I’ll take your word for it.”
Her eyes went lower—to his mouth—and then popped right back up to meet his stare. “Daniel…”
He put his palm out. “Wait, I know what you’re going to say.”
“And what’s that.”
“You’re not looking for complications.” Daniel shrugged. “But see, that’s the good thing about drifters. We’re not looking for anything serious, either.”
“Then why even start with dinner?”
“Considering that your background is in biology, I’m surprised I have to explain how the human body works. You know, food intake, the conversion of fats, carbs, and proteins into energy? It’s kind of necessary for life.” As she gave him a look, he said, “You want me to get a whiteboard and a marker? Maybe some diagrams would help—”
“Okay, see, you’ve already lied to me once.”
“Oh?”
“You do have a sense of humor.”
As someone came out of the rear of the building, they both looked toward the parking area. That vet, Rick, pushed a pair of glasses up higher on his hawkish nose. When he noticed that he was being watched, he did a double take and slowed his stride.
Then he lowered his head and went on to his car.
“I have to go catch Rick, hold on.”
With a lithe stride, she jogged out and intercepted the Jeep’s reversing. Leaning in as the driver’s side window was lowered, she went into some kind of back-and-forth with the man. And then she nodded and stepped back, giving the guy a little wave.
That man is totally in love with her, Daniel thought.
It was the way the car didn’t move as she came back to the groundskeeping building. How when the driver finally hit the gas, he departed with speed. How Daniel was willing to bet the vet’s eyes were locked on the rear view as he went down the lane.
“I’m going to head back to my office,” she said. “Are you leaving soon?”
“Yeah, I’d like to get a head start on the trip back to Glens Falls.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you on Monday. Be safe.”
“I always am.”
She turned away. Turned back. “I can’t have dinner with you, I’m sorry. It just wouldn’t… it wouldn’t look right. I’m not your boss, but we’re a small organization and… you know.”
“I totally understand,” he murmured. “You’re a professional and I respect that.”
With a nod, as if they’d come to a negotiated position as intractable as a brick wall, she lifted her hand to him and murmured a goodbye.
Daniel watched her go. And was certain Rick had been given the same message at some point. It explained the yearning on his face.
If Daniel had been a different kind of man, he’d have understood how the guy felt.
Good thing they had nothing in common.
BACK INSIDE THE main building, Lydia went up to Candy, who was pulling on her coat. “Hey, did Daniel fill out his paperwork to get paid?”
“Sure did. I put everything in the system.”
“Oh, good.”
“You want to see what he put down?” Candy raised an eyebrow. “In a purely professional capacity, of course.”
“It’s none of my business—”
“He’s twenty-eight. His mailing address is in Glens Falls. No emergency contact listed and no next of kin. There are four fours in his social security number—not sure what that means, but it’s my favorite number so I’m taking that as a good sign. Oh, and I checked the bank. You haven’t cashed your paycheck even though you went into town on your lunch break. So I’m guessing that’s how we’re affording him?”
Lydia opened her mouth. Closed it.
The woman hiked her heavy purse up on her shoulder. “That’s not right. You’ve got bills, too.”
“Maybe I just didn’t make it to the bank.”
“Sure. And this pink hair is convincing anybody I’m not in AARP.”
Lydia had to smile. Today’s sweater was lavender with a string of butterflies around the collar and cuffs. Under the woman’s parka, it was like spring trying to break out from under winter’s weight. A metaphor made of wool.
“Is that why you colored your luscious locks?” Lydia asked.
“Luscious? Really?” Candy shrugged and got a faraway look on her face. “And I don’t know, sometimes… you just don’t want to look like yourself. Even if it’s only for a couple of days and for a stupid reason. Considering I’m about to go home alone to feed my cat and decide which Stouffer’s to put in the microwave, you can understand why I might want a change.”
“Oh, Candy—”
A sharp forefinger was lifted. Then she cupped her ear. “Did I ask for sympathy? I don’t think so. I am quite happy with my choices. I don’t have to do someone else’s laundry, I always know what is and is not in my refrigerator, and I control my remote. There are women all across America who wish they were me.”
“I was offering no sympathy, I swear. I think independence is really important.”
“Good. But you’re still going to have to pay me back.”
“For what?”
“Putting you down as our groundskeeper’s emergency contact—oh, don’t give me that look. First of all, I’m not doing it as a matchmaker, and second, it’s policy. Everybody has to have one and I would have listed Peter, but like he’s around? So there you go. Now I’m off the clock and not talking about work until Monday at eight-thirty a.m.—well, maybe eightforty-five if I get stuck behind Miser’s tractor again.”
“Candy. I don’t believe you’re not matchmaking.”
“No work talk ’til Monday—”
“You pulled a numerology on his social security—”
“Just making an observation.”
“You said it was a good sign.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help you. Until Monday morning, I’m not talking shop and you two are shop.”
“Which is why we can’t be dating—”
“Aha!” That forefinger made another appearance. “I knew you liked him.”
“Wait, what—I don’t like him. I mean other than as a human being.”
Candy laughed. “I saw the way you looked at him. And so did he.”
Lydia opened her mouth. Closed it. Felt like she was on a sinking ship—or maybe one that was already at the bottom of the ocean.
“I don’t know what to say to that.” She kept going fast before Candy explained and she heard waaaaay too much about everything everybody had noticed. “But I do want to ask you if you have the guest list? For the fundraiser at the end of next month? I was going to get the invitations stuffed and addressed over the weekend, and yes, I know you’re off the clock—but think of how much easier your job will be if I take care of all of that for you.”
“Well.” Candy pursed her pink lips. “You’re really pushing my buttons here, aren’t you. I just clocked out, but you’re going to save me work. Hmm.”
“Is there really a choice?”
Candy went back around to her desk and picked up a folder. “If you wait until Monday, I’ll help you. You do it before then, you’re on your own. This is the master list. Five hundred names.”
“I accept this responsibility with full knowledge of the obstacles I will face.”
As Lydia went to take the list, Candy held it out of reach. “Do you have Band-Aids?”
“For what?”
“You have no idea from the paper cuts. And don’t lick. Use this.” She opened her top drawer and tossed over a glue stick. Then she transferred ownership of the folder. “Seinfeld was funny and all, but carcinogens are real, and yes, I used vegetable dye on my hair. Don’t get judgy—actually, take two sticks, in case you run out. Now, the envelopes are in the supply room, on top of the boxes of invitations. I haven’t printed the labels, but they’re on the email that I sent to the board for final review. You’re cc’d on it. The labels are the Averys we always use for the board packets.”
“You’ve got everything all arranged.”
“The fundraiser’s coming up fast and we need the money. I can do Peter’s parts the night of if he can’t, just to make sure we bring some cash home. We’ll slap that sad-ass cardigan on me and I’ll do my hair the color of middle-aged desperation.”
“I thought he was a blond?”
“He is. A lame one.”
Lydia had to laugh. “Have a good weekend.”
“You, too.” Candy went over to the door. Pausing, she glanced back. “Listen, if he asks you out, say yes.”
“Peter?” Lydia recoiled. “Never—”
“Our new groundskeeper.” In a lower voice, the woman said, “The truth is, no one wants to be me, and you already have way too much in common with my life at a way younger age than I was when I took my foot off the gas and put it on the brakes. Say yes, Lydia. You won’t regret it.”
Before there could be any argument—or more HR tossed into a heck-no—Candy beat feet out the door and shut things tight.
Under normal circumstances, and for obvious reasons, Lydia would have followed up on the conversation all the way out to the parking lot. But after a night spent in her car, and Peter’s crap, and the reality that Candy could talk circles around God himself, a decision to bail seemed pretty close to a survival reflex.
Doubling back, Lydia went down to the executive director’s office and sat behind the desk. Signing into his computer, she loaded her email onto his browser, opened Candy’s label missive, and got the file front and center. In the printing room, she set up the Averys in the Xerox machine, and then back again at Peter’s desk, she hit the go button.
Out across the hall, the soft clicking and shuffling as the printer went to work was a peaceful, industrious sound, and she used it for background music as she began an infiltration into Peter Wynne’s computer. Even though she had asked for privacy earlier, that had been to go through the drawers, file cabinet, and shelves. She’d saved the IT stuff for after hours because, considering what she’d done the night before, she was not in a big hurry for anybody to know just how good she was with a keyboard.
She looked at everything on the hard drive: All the files, anything he’d ever deleted, his web search history, what was on his calendar going back five years.
As she dove in, she felt like she had a catcher’s mitt, and she was ready for the handoff, the answer.
And she knew what it was going to be.
She just had this sixth sense…
About an hour later, after the sun had set and the label-printing job had long finished, a knocking sound reverberated down from the front of the building. Then there was a silence. And then the demanding sound resumed.
Getting to her feet, she zipped her pullover up to her throat. And wished it were bulletproof.
Not that she was being paranoid or anything.
Nah.
As she headed out to reception, she felt like there were shadows everywhere in the building, even though there were lights on all around. And as she glanced out the windows across the waiting area, the motion-activated security lights that glowed should have been reassuring. But weren’t.
She couldn’t see who was out there. And there were no lights in the parking lot.
If it was Candy coming back because she’d forgotten something or if Peter had decided to show up, they’d have keys. And Rick would have entered from the rear if he’d returned to check on the wolf who was still barely alive.
Closing in on the front door, she debated pretending she wasn’t inside, but how was that going to work with her car right there?
“Ms. Susi?” came a deep voice from the outside.
Lydia jumped forward and opened things. “Sheriff?”
Eastwind took his hat off and gave her a little bow. In his uniform, and with his serious expression, she had a thought that he was going to handcuff her and put her in the back of his SUV. After that? Orange Is the New Black. For like, ten years. Or more?
“I ran into Candy at the diner,” he said, “and she told me you’d probably still be here. Mind if I come in?”
“Please.” She made room by stepping back. “How are you?”
More importantly, how am I? A felon or…?
“Good, thanks. You’re working late.”
“There are only five of us at the WSP.” Well, four who showed up for work. “So some days go into the evening.”
“I know all about that.” He glanced over to Candy’s desk. Looked down the hall to Lydia’s office. Checked out the waiting area. “So I’d like to ask you for some help. And just so we’re clear, I’m not coming with a warrant or anything.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“Your preserve has cameras mounted in places, correct?”
Bingo, she thought. “We do, yes.”
“And how long do you keep the feeds?”
“Forever.” As he seemed surprised, she nodded. “It’s not like surveillance video for businesses or public places. We need the data for our research purposes. Everything’s kept on the cloud.”
Eastwind shook his head. “Where I come from, clouds rain. Block the sun. Block the moon. I am not meant for this era.”
She smiled, even though her heart rate was high. “There are advantages to technology. And this is about the hiker, right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I’d be happy to give you a copy of the coverage we have for North Granite Ridge. You want me to go back, like, three days? Four?”
“Four would be good. We’re not exactly sure when the attack happened.”
“It may not be a wolf, you know.” When he made a noncommittal murmur, she tried to shrug casually. “I’ll send you the files right away. All I need is an email address, and I’ll get you a Dropbox.”
“Drop box?”
“It’s a way of sharing big files.”
“Oh. That’d be great.”
Out on the mountain, the man was in charge. Here indoors? He was awkward in a way that would have seemed endearing—if it weren’t for the fact they were talking about footage she’d obstructively justice’d.
“I will warn you,” she said. “Our cameras are limited. They can only scan part of any location, and they move through a system of positions. It’s possible we have nothing on video.”
“It’s still more than we have to go on now.”
“Okay, well, I’m just here printing address labels so I can grab the footage before I leave.” She got a pad and took a pen out of Candy’s holder. “What’s your email?”
“Here, take this card.” He reached into his back pocket. “It’s on the bottom.”
Lydia took what he offered. “So… have you ID’d the hiker yet?”
“No, not yet. We will, though.”
“And you didn’t find a car? At the trailheads, or something?”
“Not yet, no.”
“So how’d he get on the property? Hikers have to start somewhere on the trails. Unless he walked across the valley from another site—like the hotel’s.”
“This is an active investigation so I cannot comment.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Did you ask the hotel about his picture? What did they say?”
“Come on, Ms. Susi, you know what my response is going to be to that—”
“What was in his pack.”
“Excuse me?” Those dark eyes narrowed.
Shit. Maybe she’d given herself away.
“Well, if he’s a hiker, he probably had a pack, right? Any chance there were hunks of poisoned meat in it?” When the sheriff just stared at her, she shook her head. “That hotel chain is not part of our community. Why are you protecting them? And please don’t active-investigation me again. I’m not buying it.”
The sheriff inclined his head. Then he put his hat back on. “Thank you for your help. I look forward to receiving the files.”
As the man turned away, Lydia said, “How far is it going to go. How far are you going to let it go.”
The sheriff left in silence, and he closed the door quietly.
“Goddamn it,” Lydia muttered.
Turning around, she went back through the facility, passing by Peter’s office. Out in the clinic section, she pushed open the door to the exam room. As her breath stopped, she hugged herself.
The wolf was on his side, an oxygen mask at the end of his muzzle, his flank rising and falling.
