Tundra Threat. Sarah Varland
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really isn’t what you’re used to, is it, city girl?”
Maybe it was the “city girl” comment. Or maybe it was the compassion in his tone. McKenna wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d messed up again, in front of one of the people she’d most like to prove her competency to. “I can handle it fine, Will,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I messed up a couple of times. But I won’t again.” She prayed it would be true and silently begged Will not to contact any of the people he must know to tell them she wasn’t up to this job. People’s recommendations went a long way up here in the middle of nowhere.
Her job was on the line if she didn’t get it together. And even if the location was less than ideal, this job was the only one she’d ever really wanted.
“I can handle it fine,” she repeated again with more firmness, not sure who she was convincing.
Will threw up his hands in surrender. “What is with you? It was just a comment—I didn’t mean anything by it. Do you want me to take you back to Barrow and forget my offer ever existed?”
Yeah. That was exactly what she wanted. Except when the wind crept across the tundra, whispering through the grass and taunting her with the fact that it knew and had seen what had happened here yesterday, chills invaded her entire body. She couldn’t come back here with Chris.
She might not relish giving Will a front-row seat to her fumbling attempts to handle the case, but she trusted him. With her life, if necessary.
And for now that would have to be enough.
* * *
What was it she thought she had to prove? Will wondered as he walked behind her, scanning their surroundings for possible threats, human or animal. He’d spent enough time in this wilderness to know it was as treacherous as it was beautiful. But even as he tried to remain alert to his surroundings, his eyes kept returning to the woman beside him.
McKenna hiked along without another word to him, which left him time alone with his thoughts. More time with them than he wanted, if he were honest.
Thankfully, she stopped soon, pointing to an unmistakable red stain on the brown earth that he couldn’t have missed even if he’d tried.
“The paramedics took the bodies to Anchorage this morning.”
Will didn’t consider himself to have a weak stomach—look at what he did for a living. But something about knowing the blood had come from someone instead of something, like the animal blood he was accustomed to seeing, churned his stomach.
But not as much as the thought that it could have been McKenna’s. What were the chances that whoever had committed the crimes had still been around yesterday, watching the investigation of his crime scene? Was it just arson where people did that, or was it all crimes?
The thought of little McKenna Clark mixed up in a case like this that could end up getting her killed played havoc with his mind. What had her superiors been thinking, putting someone as young and inexperienced as she was in an isolated post like this, where she’d be facing any danger alone?
“Be careful,” he said as he looked around again, not liking the uneasy feeling that had crept over him.
“I am.”
He moved closer to her.
“Really, Will. I’m fine.”
He watched as she bent low toward the ground to snap pictures of the scene with a digital SLR camera.
“Is everything like it was when you left? Minus the bodies?”
She considered his question and nodded slowly. “As far as I can tell.” She moved the camera around, surveying the area through the viewfinder as though looking through the apparatus helped her focus her mind on the scene. She snapped pictures of the surrounding area. Finally her gaze rested on a patch of grass about ten feet from the crime scene itself.
“Something else was dead.”
“What?”
She moved closer to whatever she’d noticed and Will followed. The grass there was stained red, too, though the stain wasn’t as large. In fact, this puddle of dried blood much more resembled what he saw on hunting trips.
“Another body?” Will asked. “Or do you think...”
“They were hunting,” McKenna said aloud, finishing the thought. “But someone moved whatever they killed.”
He nodded. “I think you’re right. Caribou, maybe? That’s what’s usually hunted in this part of the tundra. And the flat spot in the grass looks like the right size.”
She nodded. “I think so.” She leaned forward, snapped a picture, and then snapped pictures of the entire surrounding area.
Will heard the bang a split second before the first bullet whizzed past his head.
Rifle fire. Aimed right at them.
“Get down!” he yelled to McKenna, reaching his arm out to take her down to the ground with him. To his surprise, she didn’t protest but lay still where he’d tackled her onto the ground. Several more bullets flew overhead and Will fought panic when he realized how close the shooter had been to hitting them. He’d promised McKenna he wouldn’t let her get hurt, and she’d almost been killed.
Whoever was doing this meant business.
Will felt McKenna fumble for the weapon at her holster as he went for his own, usually used to protect him and his clients from animal predators. “Can you tell where the shots are coming from?” she asked.
“No. You?”
“Behind us somewhere. That’s all I can tell.”
It was a wonder she could tell that. The wide-open tundra was a sniper’s paradise. The killer had probably waited out here, expecting McKenna to come back and investigate, and completely concealed himself in the tall grass while his target was open.
In fact, once he thought about it, it wasn’t surprising at all that someone had fired on them. It was surprising that he or she had missed.
“I don’t want to fire until I know his position.” McKenna’s words were tense. “I don’t think there are any more people out here, and the gunfire would have scared off the animals, but...”
“But you never fire until you’re sure what you’re aiming for,” he finished for her, knowing the firearms safety rule well from trying to drill it into irresponsible clients with more money than sense.
They lay side by side, each with weapon out and ready, but the shots had stopped.
“What now?” Will asked in a whisper after a minute, when it became clear that the shooter had given up for the moment.
“We’re half a mile from the plane.”
“Assuming he didn’t find the plane and do anything to it.”
The panic in her eyes made him wish he hadn’t voiced the dark thought. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he said with more assurance than he felt. “I think we just wait here for a while, until we’re sure he’s gone.”
“Then just stand up and hope we don’t get shot?”
“Yeah, that’s all I’ve got. You?”
“Nothing better.”
By what felt like a mutual unspoken agreement, they lay there without speaking, each of them keeping their eyes fixed on places a threat could approach from. Will wasn’t sure how much time had passed before McKenna finally whispered that they should try to make it to the plane.
“I think you’re right,” he agreed, knowing that the longer they stayed out, the greater the danger they’d face from animals out here as well as whoever was trying to kill McKenna.
Full understanding hit him