Voracious - Alice Henderson [29]
“We also have to tell them about the backcountry ranger,” she said solemnly.
Noah stopped then, walked back toward her slowly, and looked at her intently. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“What? But his body is back there, and—”
“They won’t know what they’re dealing with,” he said, hooking his thumb in the direction of the backcountry ranger’s station far away in the mountains.
“We still have to tell them!”
“And how would you explain to them what attacked the ranger?”
“As best I could. I’d tell them what I saw. I’d tell them where they can find the body.”
Noah shook his head. “Even if they did track him down, he can’t be imprisoned. Believe me, I’ve seen people try. Place after place. It never works. They’d have to kill him, and they couldn’t. Even if they tried. They’d die taking him into custody.”
Madeline tried to keep her voice down, though she could feel it rising as she grew more frustrated, trying to understand Noah’s point of view. “If he’s aggressive when they try to bring him in, they may shoot him.”
Noah looked up, exasperated. “It won’t kill him. And then he’ll escape.”
“From a prison cell?”
“From anywhere.” Noah’s eyes were grim. “Madeline,” he took her hand gently, “I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen it all. You must believe me.”
“Look, Noah,” she said, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t even really know you. I appreciate you helping me back there, but I firmly believe a person should report a murder.”
“But don’t you see they’ll just get in the way?” he asked exasperatedly.
“Get in the way of whom?”
Noah looked down and remained silent.
“I can’t just ignore what I saw, what I’ve been through. If these rangers can do anything to stop this thing, then I’ve got to tell them.”
Noah put his face in his hand and sighed. He looked weary. “Okay,” he said at last, looking up. “But you’ll be endangering their lives. I’m going to leave you here then. It’s likely they’ll want to ask you a ton of questions, so I’m going to find you somewhere to stay nearby. I’ll be back soon.”
A ton of questions. Madeline hoped none of them recognized her name. She just wanted to report the murder and be done with it. Montana newspapers had carried a few accounts of her psychic endeavors. If they found out she was “gifted,” they might be all over her, asking her to return to the murder scene and see if she could pick up anything—like off the rafters in the outhouse. I can’t go through that. I won’t. I’ll just report the murder, and if they ask me to use my “ability,” I’ll just tell them it doesn’t work that way.
She was a bit taken aback and hurt that after all, Noah was just abandoning her on the doorstep of this ranger’s house. But he had already done so much for her, she was grateful for that. “Thanks,” she said feebly.
“My pleasure,” he answered, but she could hear the tension in his voice. He rang the bell on the cabin and then disappeared into the darkness.
She stood there for a few moments before the door opened.
A kind-looking man in his thirties appeared, holding a fork and napkin, looking at her quizzically. He wore a National Park Service uniform. She felt tiny out there on the porch, Noah now gone, and the dark expanse of the park at her back.
“I—I want to report a murder,” she heard herself say.
The ranger’s mouth opened. “A murder?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
He dropped his fork, and it clattered on the wooden floor. “Oh, my. I’d better call a ranger.”
Madeline furrowed her brow. “Aren’t you a ranger?” She looked at his uniform pointedly. The man was dressed in a khaki pants and khaki shirt, a National Park patch sewn onto his sleeve.
The man looked flustered. “I’m an interpretive ranger. We need a law enforcement ranger.”
“Oh,” she said and squinted as a flash of pain pulsed in her head. “I didn’t know there was a difference.”
“Are you hurt badly?” he asked, gesturing at the bandage.
“I should have someone look at it,” she replied.
He invited her in, and exhausted, she