Alaska Adventure (22 page)

“I’m Laurel Adams, and this is Russ Corcoran.”

“Thanks for coming. We’re all anxious to hear about your project.”

“Uh, exactly how many people will be coming?” Russ asked anxiously.

“Only a dozen or so. Unfortunately, a lot of people weren’t able to come in from the field this afternoon. But those of us who are coming promised to take notes and tell them all about it.”

“Is Ben Seeger coming?” asked Laurel, lowering her backpack to the floor.

“He wouldn’t miss it. He and Ethan have been friends for years. Ben’s always interested in learning about what he and his students are up to. That’s especially true this year, since Wolf Lake is in his territory.

“Why don’t you come into my office?” Dina suggested. “You can leave your packs in there. Would you like a few minutes to look over your notes?”

A few minutes later, she led Laurel and Russ into a compact conference room. Seven or eight people sat around an oval-shaped table, waiting. Dina took a seat at its head.

“I’ll wait until everyone gets here before making introductions. In the meantime,” she added, gesturing toward the small table in the back corner of the room, “help yourselves to coffee.”

A few more people straggled in. Most of them chatted with each other, although the man sitting next to Russ and Laurel asked them a few questions about their trip up from the Kenai Peninsula and their impressions of Anchorage.

Finally, a man sitting in back said, “Since we’re all here, this might be a good time to get everyone’s feedback on the proposal for the new budget. Anybody had a chance to look over that memo yet?”

As the others discussed department business, Laurel and Russ sat with their heads together, reading through their notes one last time and reviewing who’d be talking about which topic.

At ten minutes after three, Dina glanced at her watch and frowned. “Everyone’s here except Ben. Where is he?”

“I saw him a few minutes ago,” someone volunteered. “I’m pretty sure he’s in the building.”

“I hope he remembered to put today’s meeting on his calendar.”

“Do you want me to see if I can track Mr. Seeger down?” Laurel offered. “That way, the rest of you can finish your discussion.”

“Would you?” Dina cast her a look of gratitude. “Start by checking his office. It’s right down the hall.”

Someone was already voicing a new opinion about the memo.

“I’ll come with you,” Russ whispered to Laurel. With a sheepish grin, he added, “My throat’s kind of dry. I could use a drink of water.”

“I think I noticed a drinking fountain around the corner,” said Laurel.

She and Russ headed down the corridor. Sure enough, there was a water fountain at the end. Right before it was a door labeled “Ben Seeger. Enforcement Coordinator, Southcentral Alaska and Kodiak Island.”

“I’ll look in here,” Laurel called to Russ.

She knocked on the open door, meanwhile glancing into the office. Finding it empty, she stepped inside. Mr. Seeger’s calendar lay open on his desk. Curious about whether or not he’d remembered to make a note of today’s meeting, she went over to the desk. Written underneath that day’s date was “3:00—Dr. Wells.” Yet as she stared at those simple words, she was suddenly overcome with a wave of dizziness.

That handwriting. She’d seen it before. And the letters had been written with the same distinctive pen. Fine lines in jet black ink....

And then something else on the desk caught her eye. Half-hidden by a pile of pink telephone messages was a small notebook, about three by five inches. She hesitated, her mind racing. And then, without actually making a decision to do so, she picked it up.

Automatically the book fell open. Sticking out from the binding were the edges of a page that had been ripped out. The paper that remained formed a row of jagged, uneven triangles.

She recognized their pattern immediately.

“Everything okay in here?”

Laurel snapped her head up at the unexpected sound of Russ’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, watching her with a concerned look on his face.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean ...” Laurel bit her lip. “I guess I’m not sure.”

Coming into the room, he asked, “What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath. “Either I’m running into one coincidence after another, or else I’ve found the guilty party.”

“Guilty?” Russ frowned. “Of what? What are you talking about?”

She held up the small book she’d been examining. “Look familiar?”

“Sure. I’ve seen that kind of notebook before. A lot of people use them for fieldwork. They’re called Write-in-the-Rain books, because they’re made of special paper that keeps ink from being smeared when the weather’s bad.”

“Take a closer look, Russ.” Laurel held it out for him to examine. “Now tell me if anything about this looks familiar.”

As he took the book from her, his expression changed quickly from one of confusion to one of horror. “Oh, no! Laurel, where did you find this?”

“Right here on Ben Seeger’s desk. As a matter of fact, his name is written on the front cover. Not only is the handwriting familiar, it was also written with a Rapidograph.”

Quickly Russ turned to the front of the book. After glancing at the name scrawled there, he looked up at Laurel.

Before either of them had a chance to speak, Dina came sailing in.

“I found him!” she declared brightly.

Ben Seeger was standing right behind her, a friendly smile on his face.

He was wearing a jacket made of red-plaid wool.

Chapter Nineteen

“And in the live traps, we’ve caught red fox, raccoon, snowshoe hare, ground squirrel, red squirrel, red-backed vole, meadow vole, and meadow-jumping mouse.” Mariah glanced up from the list she’d been reading as she lay stretched across the plaid couch. Her foot was elevated, balanced on a tower of pillows. “Is that it for the survey of mammals living around the lake?”

Cassie glanced up from the table, where she sat opposite Trip. “Don’t forget the porcupine Laurel and I spotted the day we went to the supermarket,” she added.

Thinking back to that day saddened her. She and Laurel, whom, at that point, she’d thought of as her best friend, had had such fun, jumping into the Jeep and heading into town.... Now, that day seemed light-years away. She glanced over at Trip, who was sitting with his hiking boots propped up on the edge of the table, his chair leaning back so far it threatened to topple over at any minute. She hoped to catch his eye. But he was absorbed in thumbing through the marble notebook in which he kept notes.

“I’ve spotted a few animals that we haven’t gotten in the traps,” Trip said. “I’ve been keeping a list.” Having found the page he’d been looking for, he folded over his notebook. “Let’s see. Coyote, northern flying squirrel ... and here’s the prizewinner, a marten.”

“What’s a marten?” Cassie asked.

“Martes americana,”
Trip replied. He sounded as if he were giving a lecture. “They’re members of the weasel family, the
Mustelidae.
Martens are fairly small, about two feet long and low to the ground. They’re bushy and brown, with rounded ears. But what’s most distinctive about them is their face. They have pointed noses that make them look like foxes. A lot of native Alaskans go their whole lives without ever seeing one,” he added boastfully. “Guess I’ve just got a particularly good eye.”

“What else have you spotted, Oh Great One?” asked Mariah.

A knock outside the cabin door kept him from answering. Danny Torvold popped his head in, his bright eyes darting around the cabin.

“Is Russ
here?” the boy asked hopefully.

“Nope,” Trip replied, barely glancing over. “Sorry, kid.”

“He’s in Anchorage,” Cassie explained. She went over to him, peering at the stack of wooden boxes he was holding. “Hey, what have you get there?”

“It’s my insect collection. I wanted to show it to Russ.”

“I’m sure he’ll be disappointed that he missed it,” Man ah commented dryly,

“When’s he getting back?”

“Not until later tonight,” said Cassie. “We’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.” She stood by the door, expecting the little boy to leave.

Instead, he remained in the middle of the cabin, still clutching his collection tightly against his chest. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So what are you guys doing?”

“Just trying to pull some of our notes together,” Trip answered. “At least, we were before we were interrupted.” His growing impatience was reflected in his tone.

“Maybe I could help.” Danny set his collection down on the table. “I know this lake better than anybody.”

“This is pretty technical stuff,” Trip insisted. “What we do is a little more demanding than riding around in a canoe, looking at the pretty wildflowers.”

“Oh, let him stay.” Mariah leaned forward to fuss with the pillows under her foot. “Or are you afraid a nine-year-old kid’s going to make you look bad?”

Trip cast her a dirty took, then turned back to his notes. “Okay. Where were we?”

“You were telling us how lucky you were to have spotted a wild marten.”

“Oh, that’s right. I
was
lucky. It’s really hard to spot one—”

“What did he look like?” Danny asked enthusiastically.

“He was a perfect specimen,” Trip replied. “Foxlike face, rounded ears.... What do you think he looked like? He looked like the martens I’ve seen in books.”

Danny frowned. “Gee, Trip. I don’t think that was a marten.”

“What are you talking about?” Trip asked crossly. “Of course it was. Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I’m just saying that it’s really hard to spot one. I’ve only seen martens twice in my whole life.”

“That’s why it was so cool.”

“Did it have a long bushy tail?”

“Huh?”

“Martens are different from other weasels because they have long, bushy tails.”

Trip squirmed in his chair. “Uh, I don’t remember seeing a long tail.”

“So much for your
National Geographic
article,” Mariah said, laughing. “Why don’t you tell your fans how it feels to be outsmarted by a kid half your age?”

“I was just trying to be helpful,” Danny protested. “I wasn’t trying to show off!”

“We know that,” Mariah said, still laughing. “It’s Trip who’s the show-off.”

She stopped laughing as a peculiar sound suddenly cut through the cabin. It was low and irregular, like a growl.

Cassie looked up, blinking. “What was that?”

“Probably just the wind,” said Trip.

“There’s no wind tonight.”

Nervously Cassie looked out the window. “Maybe it was a wild animal.”

“Right.” Trip made a face. “Something really scary ... like a raccoon.”

“Or a marten,” Mariah muttered.

“You’re probably right. It was probably just a—”

A loud crash right outside the cabin sent Danny rushing toward the doorway. He poked his head out through the thick curtain of mosquito netting. “It sounds like that raccoon’s going through the garbage.”

“There’s no garbage out there,” said Trip. “Just a pile of fish traps that Dr. Wells and I are going to clean when he gets back from Seward.”

“That raccoon’s going to be disappointed when he figures out there are no fish to go with the fish smell,” Danny commented.

“Maybe we should close the door,” Cassie suggested. “In case he comes running in here.”

“Not likely,” said Trip. “Besides, we’ll suffocate. Leave it open.”

“Maybe we can open the windows a little wider. The problem with them is that they’re so darned small.” Cassie went over to the nearest window, pretending she was checking it. In reality, she was peering out, anxious to see what was making that terrible racket.

Immediately her heart began to pound. Outside, in the dense brush, she saw something moving. A large shadowy shape, hovering just beyond the trees....

“Something’s out there!” she gasped. “Something big!”

Mariah rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’s Jim Whitehorse, wanting to party.”

Cassie remained glued to the window. “I don’t think Jim Whitehorse would knock over fish traps.”

“We should really get back to our list,” Mariah said impatiently. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but there are other things I’d like to do tonight besides play Animal

Lotto—”

All of a sudden something crashed against the front of the cabin, so forcefully that the entire building shook. Mariah and Cassie exchanged terrified glances. Trip jerked his head up so abruptly that he toppled his chair over. He fell to the floor with a loud crash. Danny ran over to the window.

“What’s going on?” Mariah shrieked. “An earthquake?”

“This is no earthquake,” Danny replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. “It’s a bear!”

“A bear!” Mariah could barely get the word out.

The pounding continued, each thrust of the bear’s gigantic body growing stronger as with great determination he crashed against the cabin.

“Be quiet!” Trip instructed, scrambling to his feet, not bothering to set the chair right. “Maybe he’ll go away if he thinks there’s no one here—”

“No,” Danny insisted. “My dad always tells me to make a lot of noise. Yell, scream, hit pots and pans—”

“That’s right,” said Cassie, her voice shrill. “I remember that from the day we got here.”

Mariah just stared at them from the couch, where she remained frozen to the spot. Cassie followed Danny as he raced toward the kitchen. She was gripped by a fear more terrible than any she’d ever known. It was almost impossible for her to breathe, and her heart was beating so furiously she felt nauseous. With trembling hands she took the frying pan and metal lid Danny gave her as he crouched in front of the cabinet.

“Here, Cassie,” he commanded. “Bang these together. Trip, take these.”

She felt as if she were in a nightmare, scarcely able to move. The muscles of her arms were paralyzed. But somehow, she found the strength to hit the lid against the back of the frying pan.

Trip was hitting a metal spoon against a saucepan, his face colorless. The clatter was deafening, but the bear continued pounding against the wall of the cabin.

“Close the front door, Mariah!” Cassie screeched.