Deadly yellowstone secre.., p.1
Deadly Yellowstone Secrets, page 1
She held the call button down and yelled.
“Ranger station? Anyone? Help! This is naturalist Tamala Roth. Clint and I are being chased by another car on the road about a quarter mile beyond the overpass. Send backup to Grand Loop. Now!”
The Hummer slammed into them and jerked the truck forward, jarring Tamala’s neck. They skidded to a stop on the side of the road.
Tamala heard herself scream as she saw Clint’s forehead hit the steering wheel. Her own tight seat belt kept her in place, but the jolt left her woozy. The Hummer’s door creaked open then slammed shut close by.
She locked the passenger’s side door. Clint groaned next to her, his head still on the steering wheel, but he didn’t move.
The driver’s side door opened and a huge man yanked Clint out of his seat and let him fall to the ground. The man’s voice was a low, rumbling rasp. “He won’t be helping you this time. You’ll pay for taking my chance at that bear and for seeing my face.”
Kari Trumbo is an internationally bestselling author of historical and contemporary Christian romance and romantic suspense. She loves reading, listening to contemporary Christian music, singing when no one’s listening and curling up near the woodstove when winter hits. She makes her home in central Minnesota—where the trees and lakes are plentiful—with her husband of over twenty years, two daughters, two sons, a few cats and a bunny who’s the star of one of her books.
Books by Kari Trumbo
Love Inspired Suspense
Deadly Yellowstone Secrets
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
Deadly Yellowstone Secrets
Kari Trumbo
Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
—Deuteronomy 31:6
I dedicate this book to Rich and Peggy Henderson, for their love and knowledge of Yellowstone National Park. I wouldn’t have been able to write this book without them.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Snowbound Escape by Dana Mentink
ONE
The growing darkness didn’t make Tamala Roth’s hike easy, but the nip in the November air cooled her heated skin. Bears were notoriously active at dawn and dusk and she only had a few more minutes to gather her data. Scrub grass clung to her socks as she picked up a discarded candy wrapper then continued on the trail. The path led from the Kepler Cascades toward home in the Old Faithful area.
Tracking bears as they headed for their dens for their winter sleep was getting more and more difficult. They’d fattened up over the last few weeks, but would soon hole up in their dens until warmer weather arrived. This would be one of her last chances to document the particular mama bear she loved the most. But she’d yet to see the famous bear that evening.
A rifle blast stopped her in her tracks.
Her heart raced as she reached for her walkie. Mama, the black bear she’d tracked for months, raced from a wooded area about forty yards from where she stood, moving along the line of trees. Tamala held still. If she ran, any bear moving like that might chase her. The bear slowed, glancing back and forth. Run! She wasn’t sure if she meant Mama, her or both of them.
She held her breath, waiting, keeping still to avoid being seen. Mama stood and craned her neck back and forth, then ducked back into the trees along a used bear path farther from where she’d emerged. She focused all her attention on the bear to recall every detail.
A man in camouflage appeared from the woods, raising his rifle to his shoulder, aiming at where Mama had just disappeared. Tamala screamed and dropped to the ground, covering her head as he swiveled the barrel toward her. She held in a cry as a second shot rent the air.
Through the blades of tall grass, she watched him hunt. Was he looking for the bear, or her? Poachers hunted the area. No matter how hard she worked to give information to the rangers, rarely did they catch poachers. Her naturalist team speculated someone on the inside might be at fault. The prevalence of the poachers and the timing of their hunts made it seem like only someone who knew the rangers could get away with so much.
She stretched out her neck to see above the grass, thankful she’d forgotten her bright hiking vest. The man yanked the bolt on his rifle, ejecting the casing, and loaded the next round. He seemed oddly familiar. Moving steadily toward her, he pulled the rifle to his shoulder, swinging the barrel back and forth, his eye looking down the sight.
She needed to get away somehow without alerting him to her location hidden in the grass. Stretching back, she felt around in her pocket. She had her walkie in hand, but its use was loud. Her phone would be silent if she could reach it. The Velcro closure securing her phone slowed her down, but if she could reach it, she could call for help.
She took in all his distinguishing features. Hair, brown. Face, angry. Jaw, angular. Muscular build, but lean. About six foot or a little taller. She slid her finger along her pocket flap, slowly releasing the tape, trying to open the closure without a sound. Sweat beaded over her face as she both hurried and took care. He drew closer, about thirty yards from her now. She forced her breathing to slow as she’d learned in bear training. If she was calm, she could think.
Examining him too closely might bring her to his attention. Her hand slipped and the Velcro tore loudly, sending a distant bird to flight. She halted as the poacher spun and their eyes locked. Seconds seemed to slow, and she memorized his face.
A moment later, he had a bead on her, carefully sweeping the muzzle like a professional. She leaped up and ran, but the woods were behind her. Nothing but grass and the well-trodden ground of the path lay before her. The road might be close enough, but that offered no protection.
Feet pounding to get away, she heard a shot and braced for impact as her knees hit the ground. She folded into a ball and rolled, hearing his feet crunch in the dirt right behind her. Staggering back up, she raced for the trees, hoping that the lack of pain meant he hadn’t hit her.
She prayed one of the law enforcement rangers was nearby and had heard the shots. They were the protectors of the National Park System, like a police force. They were her only chance at making it out of this alive.
Clint Jackson, the law enforcement ranger over the Old Faithful area, pulled to a stop on the service road and climbed out of his truck. She’d never been so happy to see anyone. “Clint!” She tried to both wave and run. Rapid footfalls approaching reminded her she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Behind her, the poacher ran for cover. He pulled a handgun from his holster and wildly aimed at her. She launched to the ground and the thud of the bullet hit near her. Now she knew what the bear felt like. Hunted for sport.
Clint raised his service pistol, and she covered her head, afraid to be in the way. Clint could end this. She waited for the shot, or at least for a verbal warning. That poacher had been aiming at her. Clint was within the law to shoot. Why didn’t he?
She raised her head then chanced a look over her shoulder. The poacher was gone. She stood and brushed herself off, then went to meet the ranger. “Clint...why didn’t you shoot?” She hoped he wouldn’t see how badly she shook.
He took a moment to look her over, then his steely eyes met hers. “I saw a guy aiming his gun at you near the trees, but he was too far away for me to get an accurate shot, especially with you there. We’re too close to the road and I didn’t have a good line of sight. I don’t think it’s a good idea to chase an armed suspect in the dark, alone. We’ll get your statement and try to catch up with him in the morning. The gates are closing. I’m sorry.” He briefly touched her arm.
The contact was meant to be apologetic, but her heart ratcheted at the brief contact. “Clint, he’s a poacher. It’s not like he cares about opening and closing rules. He saw me when I accidentally made too much noise. He took a shot at me... He’s seen me. This park is massive, over three thousand square miles in three states. He could be anywhere.” She had a right to be worried about this.
He nodded, and something in his demeanor told her he wanted her to stay nearby. Since she had no idea where the poacher went, she’d listen. He reached for the walkie on his shoulder. “Attempted poaching and murder. About two miles south toward Kepler.” He waved for her to come along with him. They approached the area where the poacher had been and he kneeled next to the spent shell casing from the poacher’s gun. “Which bear?”
“Mama,” she answered. The bear was known for having twins and for being a fiercely protective mother.
His face shifted from handsome to stony. “She’s been in Yellowstone awhile. She’s one of our most popular. My team will need to get in here and look over her path, see if that poacher got any of her cubs.”
She agreed. As a naturalist, the law enforcement team didn’t need her help for that, especially since seeing Mama today had been an accident. She had been looking for Mama, but following another bear when Mama had run from the woods. “Where did the shooter go?” She stood on her toes and searched for any sign of the poacher. Exhaustion tugged on her to sit and rest, but she refused to give in.
Clint pulled an evidence bag from his thigh pocket, turned it inside out, then picked up the casing. “Not sure, but I let my team know there’s a poacher on the loose and told them to watch the exits for anything suspicious.” Turning from her, he mumbled something else into his walkie. He glanced at her, and his eyes softened. Protectively, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you’ve been through a lot. Why don’t you sit for a minute and just take some deep breaths, okay?”
Her mouth went dry for a moment. She’d been told by other naturalists not to trust the law enforcement team when it came to poaching, but she wanted to trust Clint. She shook the strange sensation from her arm. “I’ll be fine. I just want to catch this guy. He took a shot at Mama and me. I want to see him arrested.”
While he searched around the area for other evidence, she moved off to the side and did as he suggested. Her chest hurt from her pounding heart. Poaching wasn’t new, but seeing a gun pointed at her firsthand left a deep mark on her.
After calming herself, she joined Clint in the search for other clues. “I don’t understand how you saw him close enough to see him aim at me, but not be close enough to do something.”
No one ever seemed to catch these guys. They moved around like they were invincible, which was another reason her team suspected at least one ranger might be in on it. Unless the reason Clint had done nothing was because he knew the poacher...
He cocked his head slightly before he replied, “It wasn’t a clear shot. I saw you in the open and him through a break in the tree cover as he ran. I’d come this way because I heard the first shot at the bear from where I was at Kepler.”
His reasons made sense, but still didn’t explain everything, like why he didn’t just jump in his truck and follow him. She’d heard the whispered rumors for as long as she’d worked in the park that the poaching started from Yellowstone’s very own rangers. No one wanted to believe the talk, but why else let the guy go?
“And you called in for help, right? We might catch him before he leaves the park.” People didn’t just disappear, or she would’ve done just that when she’d run from the poacher.
He took a deep breath and pointed near a bend in the road. “I didn’t take chase right away because people were heading to the exits. What if there had been a car I didn’t see coming around that bend? I might have accidentally shot a civilian. I also wanted to make sure you were safe. If I had given chase and left you alone, he could have circled back and shot at you again. Speaking of which.” He reached for her wrist and did a pulse check, causing her to catch her breath. Why did his touch make her heart race? She should be furious with him.
“Are you hurt in any way?”
She’d never had much reason to talk to the handsome ranger, but having his attention now stirred emotions in her she’d buried for years. She slowly met his gaze and shook her head. “I’m fine. Just shaken up a bit.”
As the law enforcement ranger, he was the closest thing to a nurse available as the rangers made everything ready to close the park to summer visitors. Within weeks, that poacher would’ve been able to sneak onto national land and do his business with no one the wiser until much too late.
A truck rumbled down the road, carrying two wildlife rangers. They got out and pulled heavy backpacks over their shoulders from the rear of the truck. Clint waved them over, and Tamala stood back to let him talk to his team.
Yellowstone suddenly didn’t feel like home. The land with its huge mountain vistas and wide-open sky had always fit her. From the moment she’d stepped foot in the park, she’d wanted to live there. For all but about two months of the year, when the park service required her to leave for the season, she did.
As a naturalist and tour guide in Yellowstone, she got to enjoy the park she loved by giving informational tours, classes for visitors, and—her specialty—studying the bears. During the winter season, when the park was partially open, they didn’t need naturalists and concessioners. Only a few full-year rangers, including Clint, stayed. He turned to face her, and his deep blue eyes caught her gaze.
“I’m not okay with letting you walk back alone after you saw that guy’s face. Even if you didn’t get a picture, you might be able to pick him out from a crowd. He aimed a gun at you, and I need to be sure you get home safely. My truck is warm and waiting. Why don’t you go sit in there? I’ll be over shortly.”
She headed to the pickup without argument, especially since the mental shock of what happened had kicked in and she had a case of the shakes like never before. After closing herself in the pickup’s warmth, she noted Clint’s map. He’d just been at the falls.
Her mind raced for a moment, recalling all she’d seen. She’d been in the same area, but he hadn’t been there that she saw. Yellowstone National Park encompassed 56 miles from end to end, 3472 square miles, and 142 miles of the Grand Loop Road, enough ground that she may have missed seeing him, unless he wasn’t really there.
If Clint was working with the poachers, he wasn’t about to shoot one of them. He hadn’t even yelled to get the poacher’s attention. The truck suddenly felt like the last place she wanted to be, especially since Clint carried a gun. She was smarter than to put herself right in the poacher’s bull’s-eye twice in one day if Clint was more sinister than he’d seemed. “I think I’ll be fine walking,” she mumbled aloud to herself.
She climbed out of the pickup just as Clint approached. She hated that the hair on her arms prickled to life as he looked at her. Was he eyeing her up like the poacher had? Yet the appreciative look in his eyes said he was sizing her up in a very different way from her enemy.
A few days before, Yellowstone Search and Rescue had finished a winter training exercise. They’d trekked Craig Pass by Lone Star Geyser, a popular ski trail for winter visitors and nearly the same terrain they would drive through. Sometimes, they needed to use GPS to find missing “persons,” training dummies used for searches. Even experts with trained dogs had trouble finding them in a park full of natural elements made for obliterating someone’s scent. Riding into a situation where she might never be seen again was too foolish to consider.
Ahead of her, something swooped down in a jagged zigzag pattern in the twilight. The snap of a twig to her right stopped her cold. Unease crackled in the air and up her spine. It’s a bat, Tamala... She reminded herself these were naturally occurring noises. Not everything was the return of the armed man.
In the distance, an engine blasted to life and gunned away from them, leaving silence behind other than the rangers’ muffled voices as they took notes a few feet away.
“If that’s him, he’ll be long gone by the time we find his tire tracks.” Clint crossed his arms, stretching his green ranger uniform taught across his chest.
“Where’s your coat?” she asked. The question might be silly, but if he’d been out by the falls, where the spray chilled skin enough to hurt, then his lack of coat made even less sense. It hadn’t been in his truck that she recalled.
“It’s in the bed of my truck. Why don’t you climb back in?”
He seemed suddenly hesitant, like he wasn’t sure what her holdup might be, but didn’t want to give her a direct order.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Do you have a vehicle nearby?” The question stopped her. He wasn’t forcing her to get in, but questioning her safety. She’d always known him to be a respected ranger to the Park Service. In matters of safety, he was the man to call. Could she be mistaken? He glanced at the sky, skepticism in his handsome furrowed brow.
In Yellowstone, that look was the unspoken worry of how quickly the sun set in the winter. And how fast the temperature dropped. “I hiked. I don’t have an easy way home.”
