Voracious - Alice Henderson [30]
Nights spent reading into the wee hours of the morning.
A kiss with a pretty woman with long brown hair.
He went to the phone and dialed a number.
“Suzanne?” she heard him say from the other room. “I’ve got a young woman here who wants to report a murder … Yes, that’s right. Someone’s been killed.”
THE naturalist, Steve Pashalt, she had learned while waiting, opened the door to admit a wide-faced woman with long blonde hair in a tight braid. She, too, was dressed in a park service uniform, only she carried a gun in a holster around her waist.
“Madeline, this is Suzanne Harrett.”
Madeline got up and shook the woman’s hand, then regretted it almost immediately as the woman all but crushed her fingers. Kind blue eyes twinkled at Madeline, framed by small wrinkles that told Madeline she’d seen a lot of sun in her forty-odd years.
“Just tell her what you saw.”
Steve himself hadn’t heard the story yet. They’d waited until the law officer arrived. Now she was here, and Madeline found her heart pounding, her hands shaky, and her mouth dry. The request sounded so easy, but to fulfill it, Madeline would have to relive those terrifying moments. She decided to first tell them who had been killed. “It was a backcountry ranger who was murdered,” she told them. Immediately, concern creased their faces. It was one of their own.
“Where?” Suzanne asked.
Steve motioned for them to sit down on the couch. He took the hard metal chair next to it.
“In the backcountry,” Madeline continued, once seated. “At the Glacier Point backcountry station. Mike Z something.”
“Mike Zuwalski,” the two rangers chorused.
“Yes, that’s it.”
The naturalist swallowed. “And you’re sure he’s dead?”
Madeline pictured the man’s body draped over the beam in the vaulted toilet, the blood everywhere, his sightless eyes staring. “Yes.”
“At the station itself?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to radio up there,” the naturalist said, and left the room, the chair’s feet squeaking on the cheap linoleum floor.
For a long tense moment the officer stared at her. “Did you see who killed him?”
She paused, uncomfortable. “Not who … what.”
“An animal attack? You mean like a bear?”
Madeline shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.” Madeline felt herself pulled back to those dreaded hours on the mountain when it had pursued her. “It was almost human. Incredibly smart.” She thought of how it cut her off at the ranger station.
The officer looked at her closely. “Almost human?”
“Yes. But not quite. It had claws, and these enormous eyes …”
Now the officer looked at her, brow creased. “You know,” she said again, “sometimes it’s hard to identify wildlife correctly.”
Madeline sighed. What was this, a practiced ranger speech? But she herself had overheard enough conversations between park visitors to know the officer told the truth. How many times had Madeline heard people call a pronghorn antelope a deer? Or call a hoary marmot a weasel or a groundhog? Sure, you could mix up a black bear with a grizzly bear, or a coyote with a wolf, but this creature had been no wolf or bear.
“Bears can walk upright,” Suzanne continued, “and in intense situations, people might confuse them with—”
The naturalist came back into the room, a huge grin on his face. “Just raised Mike on the radio,” he said, the look of relief evident on his face. “He says everything’s fine up there.”
“What?” Madeline cried. Bewilderment swept over her, and she looked at them in astonishment.
“You’re sure it was the Glacier Point ranger station,” asked the officer, “and not another one?”
“Positive!” Madeline insisted. “I had a map, and—” Madeline stopped short, suddenly realizing what was happening. It wasn’t Mike the naturalist had talked to. Just as she had never talked to Mike. “You were talking to the creature!” she blurted. “It was the creature on the radio!” So it truly wasn’t dead.
“Creature?” Steve looked at Suzanne in confusion. “It can talk?”
She waved a dismissive hand, as if she would tell him later.
“It was him, don’t you see?” Madeline