Wilderness Pursuit Read online

  He shook his head. “No, but that’s a good thing, right?”

  Her expression darkened. “It’s not good at all. When I got here, I thought I saw a piece of bone, and it didn’t belong to an animal.”

  That was unexpected. “How can you know that?”

  “I’m a trained archaeologist, Sam. And finding human remains here means that this is a burial site, which means a lot of other things we can discuss once this man gets help. But if my camera was stolen...let’s just say those guys seemed willing to kill us to get it. Whoever that burial belongs to? Someone doesn’t want me to find it.”

  TWO

  Kara thundered through the forest toward her and Mike’s cars. Her camera, gone? She was even more convinced that she hadn’t been seeing things. The site had definitely been disturbed—quickly and messily—and that had been a human bone in the dirt. The laying of new pipelines was almost always rife with controversy in Canada, especially when a great deal of land was once traditional First Nations territory, with some areas still claimed by First Nations people. As a result, it was often inevitable that a government-mandated archaeological survey—a requirement before a company could start digging—would turn up First Nations artifacts or ancient burial sites.

  The artifacts were manageable. They would be sent first to a research lab and then eventually to either a museum or be returned to their people of origin. Finding a burial, on the other hand, was a whole other situation that could require weeks, months or even years of delays for a construction project. There were further studies to be done, forms to be filled out, relatives to be contacted and specific cultural ceremonies to be conducted. Regardless of how ancient or recent the burial, respect for the deceased and their relatives always came first, but that didn’t mean that everyone was happy to allow companies to dig up the land. If someone wanted her camera—which now held visual proof that the site contained a possible burial—it likely meant that Gaida Industries already had protestors working to stop the dig. It was a tricky situation, because while finding bones would mean stopping the pipeline’s construction for a brief time, it wouldn’t otherwise stop archaeologists from coming in to dig up the land. But protesters usually set up camp next to the area where they were making a land claim—they didn’t just grab evidence or disturb the land and disappear.

  No matter who had attacked her and the foreman or for what reason, it made Kara’s job harder, but not impossible.

  Sam drew alongside her on horseback. She was still having trouble processing it—Sam Thrace, an RCMP officer in Fort Mason. In high school, he’d always said that he’d rather become a transient wanderer than end up in law enforcement like his father. The youngest of three brothers, Sam had always had big, unrealistic dreams that lasted for only months at a time before his interest turned elsewhere. He’d been unfocused, prone to laziness, happier to talk about what he’d like to do in life rather than actually strive toward any concrete goals. Literally the only concrete goal she remembered him having was “don’t end up in law enforcement like Dad.”

  And now, having him here at Fort Mason? Also made her job harder...but not impossible.

  “Take the main road south about two clicks, then head east at the first intersection. It’ll take you straight into town.”

  “I know how to get to Fort Mason, Sam.”

  “But you’ll want to go to the clinic and then come to the station. The health clinic is west of Queen Street, second building on your right. Beige siding, parking around back.”

  “Thanks.” It was hard to keep the bitterness from her voice. Old, negative emotions warred with a sense of gratefulness that he’d arrived when he did. If he hadn’t been there, would their attackers have done worse? “I’ll come right over to file a police report after I get Mike in to see a doctor. I’ll need to visit the Gaida Industries office, too. They need to know about this, and I’d rather do it in person than call.”

  “Agreed. I’d like to speak to them, as well.”

  As they reached the edge of the woods, Kara prepared to say goodbye—and then groaned at the sight of the cars. Flat tires faced the road, and she was fairly certain that she had only one spare inside the rental. She sighed and gritted her teeth. Someone really didn’t want her here, and they’d made sure she couldn’t go for help after that attack if she’d lived. “I don’t suppose you can call a tow truck?”

  Sam slid from his horse and patted the tall black creature’s neck. Kara didn’t miss how the animal leaned into his touch. She’d never really been a horse person, but she appreciated animals of all kinds—it was hard not to, working out in the field. There was nothing like having bits of her lunch stolen by a curious, inquisitive squirrel.

  He rounded both vehicles and shook his head, sighing. “Whoever those guys were, they were definitely in a rush. Only the tires facing the road are slashed. Want me to see if the two tires on the foreman’s car will fit on yours? Looks about the same size. I can do it quickly. Unless...” He paused and looked at her, as though he expected her to snap at him again.

  “That would be great, thank you.” She knew how to change tires, and part of her wanted to tell him so. But that wouldn’t help either of them.

  Less than ten minutes later, Sam had the tires changed, and Kara had secured the foreman in the backseat of her car.

  “Be careful heading in,” Sam said. “I called the station while changing the tires and told them what happened out here, but the truth is that there aren’t regular patrols too far outside of town. I only came out here thanks to a tip about a possible grow-op up this way. Whoever those guys were, I doubt they’ll come after you while you’re on the road, but you can’t be too careful.”

  She slid into the driver’s seat and buckled the seat belt. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be following behind on Brenik and meet you at the station. They’d have to be awfully dumb criminals to attack an armed RCMP officer.”

  She offered a tight smile in thanks as he closed the door. She rolled down her window to verbally thank him and found herself caught in his gaze. Her throat closed up and the words on her tongue dispersed as though blown away by the wind. Had it actually been eighteen years? He looked the same as he did the last time she saw him. Older, of course, but settled into his sharp features. Square jaw, hair the color of Saskatchewan wheat, eyes containing the distinct bluish-green of polished apatite. She blinked, coming to her senses.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, then started the car. A handsome face didn’t equal a strong mind, and their relationship had ended badly almost two decades ago because of it. She had no reason to take a second glance now, not when she had a job to do.

  Especially not when her life might be on the line.

  * * *

  Sam kept a sharp watch on the tree line at each side of the road as he rode Brenik back into town. He wasn’t sure which part of the day felt more unbelievable, the attack in the woods or the fact that Kara Park had popped back into his life again. Fort Mason and the surrounding area wasn’t known for violent crime—in fact, most of the crime in northern British Columbia was drug-related, domestic or break-and-enter incidents, not violent attacks. The few violent attacks they dealt with this far north were usually caused by grizzlies, not humans, and even those were incredibly rare.

  He reached the station just as Kara pulled into the small parking lot. She offered a terse nod as she climbed out of the vehicle and strode inside with purpose. He couldn’t help the tiny smile that caught the corner of his mouth. Kara had always known what she wanted out of life and hadn’t been afraid to push for it, even at the expense of those around her—well, that wasn’t entirely true. It had come at the expense of their relationship, yes, but after she’d left the province to attend university in the United States, he’d realized that he should have expected it all along. Kara had never been the type to sit around and wait for life to happen to her. She went out and grabb
ed it by the reins.

  He stabled Brenik behind the station and headed inside after Kara. She stood at the front reception desk, looking mildly confused.

  “Small place,” he said, coming alongside her. “The stable out back is nearly as large as this building. There are only five of us at this detachment, and we have a part-timer who comes in for a few hours every day to do reception. Otherwise calls go to me or one of the other guys. It’s a forwarding system, so whichever one of us answers first takes the call, but Aaron has seniority.”

  She shook her head slightly, as if she was having trouble processing his words. “Aaron? As in, your brother?”

  “Yep. Leo’s here, too. I know, it’s unusual that we’d all be in the same detachment, but we put our names in to be assigned up here, and a series of circumstances made it happen.”

  “Plus your father’s connections.”

  “I won’t deny that it helped, sure.” He tried to study her face, but it was hard to read. Was that disgust or just exhaustion from the attack? “I assume the foreman is secure? Did the doctors say anything when you dropped him off? Please tell me you had yourself checked out, too.”

  She pursed her lips and gently tapped her fingers on the top of the reception desk. “Yes, and I’m fine. Some bad bruising and mild whiplash, but I’ll be okay. As for Mike, they didn’t say much. I gave them the number for Gaida Industries and said you’d probably be stopping by to get a statement from Mike after he’s feeling better, but that’s about it. He was a lot more awake and alert by the time we reached the clinic, so I don’t imagine he’ll be in there long.”

  “Good.” Sam rounded the desk and began pulling out the necessary forms to compile a report on what happened in the woods. “Hopefully he got a good look at the guys who came after you. Between the two of you, we might get enough of a description to go on. Please, have a seat.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sam filed the paperwork and pushed back in his chair. Kara had been hit from behind and had caught only a blurry glimpse of one of the attackers, so her description was lacking. He needed to get back out there or send one of the other officers to check for clues—footprints, fibers, anything—but not with the wind picking up outside. In the impending rain and darkness, it’d be not only dangerous but impossible to see the terrain.

  “Are we done here?” She raised dark, full eyebrows at him. “I need to head to Gaida’s offices and speak with them about what happened before everyone goes home for the day.”

  “I need to head there, too.”

  “I can go by myself, Sam.”

  “I’m sure you can,” he said, resisting the urge to match her gently aggressive tone. Her combative attitude made him want to push back, but that would be petty and uncalled for. The truth was that he really did need to speak to someone in charge of the site. “But this is a police investigation, and that means I need to speak to all parties involved. I’d like to get some perspective on the pipeline site and see if they’ve had any other kind of trouble that hasn’t been reported.”

  Her shoulders tensed and she stood, taking several steps away from the desk. Then she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Do you need me to drive, or are you taking the horse?”

  He couldn’t stifle his laugh. “No, I’ve stabled Brenik for the night. The RCMP doesn’t use horses as often as you might think. I have a patrol car that can drive both of us. You should probably use your car as little as possible until you get the correct tires on there again.”

  She didn’t protest as he led the way back out of the station and to his patrol vehicle, though the short drive to the office building where Gaida Industries had rented space was both silent and awkward. She stared out the window as he drove, and he searched for words that would bridge the decades-old gap between them—if only for the sake of the investigation. Beyond that, having as little contact and interaction with Kara as possible sounded as appealing to him as it clearly did to her.

  At the office building, Sam kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, but at this point he feared more danger from the skies than he did from any person. Dark, angry clouds approached from the west, bringing nightfall early. He thought he saw a flash of lightning, but the storm was still a way off, making its intensity difficult to gauge. The strength of storms coming this far inland could also shift fairly quickly, so there was no need to batten down the hatches yet.

  Kara marched past him into the building and leaned over reception. “I need to speak with the senior partner, Ed Tigh, immediately.” The receptionist, a small, middle-aged woman with dark circles under her eyes, stared up at Kara in confusion. “I don’t have time to wait, there’s a situation—”

  Sam reached past her, flashing his badge. “RCMP. We’re here to speak with your boss.”

  The woman blinked rapidly, then picked up her phone. Moments later, they were ushered into the office of an elderly, stocky gentleman wearing a gray suit. Ed Tigh stood to shake their hands, and Sam tried not to flinch at the contact. The man’s palm was warm and damp, and Sam couldn’t help but notice that his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Despite the outwardly friendly welcome, Ed’s body language indicated that this interaction was forced and unwelcome. Not that hostility toward law enforcement was something new for Sam—sometimes folks just didn’t like cops, regardless of whether or not they had anything to hide.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” Ed sat back in his chair as Kara and Sam took their seats. “Something about a disturbance out at the site, I understand? I received a phone call about a half hour ago to tell me my foreman is at the med clinic recovering from a fight.”

  “Not a fight,” Kara said, speaking before Sam could get a word in. “An attack.”

  Ed ignored her, looking at Sam instead. “What happened, Officer?”

  Something in the man’s tone, the way his gaze slipped right past Kara, rubbed Sam the wrong way. “Ms. Park just told you. There was an attack out at your pipeline site. She can tell you more about what happened to herself and Mr. Helfer, as I only arrived in time to chase off the culprits. They disappeared into the woods and may have taken Ms. Park’s camera. She’s not sure whether that was intentional—it’s entirely possible that the camera is in the bushes somewhere—but the fact is that your construction site is now a crime scene, and I’m wondering if you have any idea why.”

  Ed folded his hands on the desk and sucked his teeth. “Absolutely not. I won’t deny that any pipeline project in Canada will attract opposition at the start, but Gaida Industries always follows protocol to reduce any potential...issues. We conduct the requisite surveys and background checks on the land.”

  “Hence the hiring of Ms. Park, here.” Sam locked eyes with Kara, unsurprised to see frustration reflected there.

  Ed’s gaze swung to Kara. “Why, yes, of course. We’re required by law to have archaeological surveys done on the land. It’s highly doubtful that there’s anything there, but you know how it is, bureaucratic nonsense—”

  “I found possible markers of a burial, and I’m quite certain I saw a phalange in-situ.” Kara’s voice took on a matter-of-fact tone. Sam watched her take a deep breath and exhale, her shoulders visibly lowering as she engaged her professional side. “Officer Thrace is here to talk to you about the attack, yes, but I’m here to speak about the site. When Mike and I arrived, the site was...not right. It looked like the dirt had been disturbed and then haphazardly tamped down, like someone did a rushed survey of the top layers of soil and then dumped everything back into place. And what’s worse is that I’m certain I saw evidence of remains in the disturbed soil, like I said. I took several photographs to show you, but my camera disappeared during the attack.”

  Ed frowned at her. “Remains? You mean bones?”

  “Yes, but also the type of soil, lithic flakes...we’re going to need to hire private security to monitor the site, or at least install some kind of motion detection system, be
cause—”

  “You’re sure the bones weren’t from a squirrel? Or a rabbit? It’s highly unlikely otherwise.”

  Kara coughed, and Sam resisted the urge to tap her arm in support. She could deal with it on her own. “You know that the land in this area is traditional First Nations territory, right? It’s highly likely that there would be artifacts on any given plot of land, as well as potential ancient burial sites. Surely your company is aware of that. This isn’t your first pipeline project.”

  Ed nodded, and Sam almost relaxed at the man’s easy agreement—but it lasted only a moment before the man’s gaze snapped up and he leaned forward in his chair. “That would be rather convenient for you, wouldn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, but Sam didn’t understand why not. Kara stiffened beside him, but remained silent.

  “What does he mean?” Sam asked her, but she shook her head, tight-lipped. “What do you mean, sir?”

  Ed smirked at Sam. “Officer, I’m trying to run a legitimate business here. You understand, I’m sure. And you must also understand that as a businessman in an industry that’s often perceived as being financially sound, that occasionally there are individuals who try to take advantage of our success. Who might fabricate complaints or situations that benefit themselves in an effort to tip our pots in their direction, so to speak.”

  “Don’t give me a verbal runaround, Mr. Tigh. If you’re accusing Ms. Park of something, I’m going to ask you to come right out and say it.”

  Ed’s smirk vanished, replaced by a deep frown. “Fine. But I think you should ask Ms. Park what happens when an archaeologist finds a First Nations burial on a construction site.”

  Sam swung his attention to Kara. She matched his gaze but kept her voice steady, despite the mounting anger he saw there. “Work stops until the burial is dealt with. A First Nations burial belongs to the deceased individual’s family, and the company’s project is put on hold indefinitely until we can determine their origin, contact the appropriate descendants and find a respectful way to move the remains. Initial investigations have to be conducted first to ensure that it is, in fact, an ancient burial and not recent.”