Harvest Moon (8 page)

“What about you?” Dawn asked, pushing the focus of
their conversation more toward him. “Where’s your partner? I thought all FBI
agent worked with a partner.”

“Well, it’s not all like the movies,” Nash said as he
shifted his weight and then took a big drink of his own terrible coffee. His
face twisted with disgust as he drank it, but he never complained.

“That’s it?” Dawn asked. “Did you ever have a partner?
Or are you like a lone wolf, or something?”

He shrugged. “Something like that. To be honest, my
last partner died a few months ago. We were working a case in New Orleans and
someone got the drop on us. She didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Dawn sighed, suddenly regretting pushing so
hard. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You didn’t have any reason to think that was the
case,” Nash said. “Like I said, it’s not like the movies. Sometimes there isn’t
a happy ending. I’ve been working on my own ever since, and I like it that
way.”

“What about the other two?” Dawn asked. “Hart and
Connors?”

“They’re okay,” Agent Nash said as he gulped back the
rest of his decaf. “But they’re out of their element, city boys with no
understanding of what’s really lurking just beyond the trees. Fish and Wildlife
has been in touch, but they’re stretched thin as it is out here.”

“And are they saying it’s a bear?” Dawn asked. “I
mean, out here it could be anything, right?”

She expected the agent’s answer to be certain it was
an animal of some kind. All the other officers had said the same thing. But he
only shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Four—no, five young women all about the
same age and similar body type going missing in a twenty-five mile radius over
a month? Bears don’t have a victim profile.”

Dawn nodded as she stared at her empty cup. There was
a question burning inside her that she was so scared of even admitting she
wanted to ask that she almost ignored it. If that question could just fade away
and never return, that would’ve been fine, but she knew she couldn’t go forward
without knowing.

“Do you think…” Dawn began, her voice so quiet that
even she could barely hear it. “Do you think Courtney is still alive?”

“Oh, Dawn,” Nash said with an apologetic look in his
eyes. “I want to say yes, but... no. It’s been over twenty-four hours since
anyone’s seen her. The chances of her still being alive...”

“I know,” Dawn said as tears begun to sting the
corners of her eyes. “I shouldn’t have let her go.”

“It’s not your fault,” the agent said, but Dawn was
barely holding it together. “Listen, I promise you, I will find what did this
and I will put it down, you hear me? It’s not going to get away with this.”

“Okay,” Dawn whispered, but she couldn’t bring herself
to believe him.

“If you want,” the agent continued, “I can spend the
night here. No funny business. I’d be happy to sleep on the couch. If whatever
was out there comes back, maybe I can take it down.”

“Are you sure?” Dawn asked. “I mean, you don’t mind
sleeping on my couch?”

“I’ve slept on a lot worse,” he told her with a weak
laugh. “That motel, for starters.”

Dawn wasn’t quite sure about having an FBI agent
staying on her couch for the night, but she was a lot more scared of being
alone. Even if her mind was trying to convince her that it had only been a
raccoon on her porch, her instincts were fighting to prove otherwise. Having
the agent there was a good idea, despite her trepidations.

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll get you some blankets. And,
um, thanks.”

“It’s no trouble,” the agent said as he kicked off his
shoes. “That Mountain Lodge is garbage, anyway. I can see why Hart and Connors
stayed at the one a few miles away.”

“Well, it’s appreciated,” Dawn said as she moved
toward a barely-used linen closet. Most of her blankets and towels had come
with the furnished rental house, and the large, gray flannel blanket she found
was no exception. With a hard tug, she pulled it out and lightly shook it to
air it out some for her unexpected houseguest.

“Bathroom is over there.” She pointed with a free hand
while she gave Nash the blanket. “And help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You should get to bed. After the
day you’ve had, you’ll be running on adrenaline, and your body needs to rest.”

“Okay,” Dawn agreed. She was too tired to argue, not
that she wanted to, anyway. Even the idea of her bed was enough to make her
eyes heavy, and she began to shamble toward her bedroom.

“Night,” Nash called after her from the open living
room.

“Night,” she mumbled back, though she wasn’t sure if
he heard her.

Even as exhaustion claimed her, Dawn thought that
sleeping would be a struggle. With everything that had happened, she thought
her brain would never still enough for slumber, but it was just the opposite.
Somehow, she felt safer than she had in months, years even, and as she let her
eyelids close, she realized that security was brought on by none other than the
man who was sleeping on her couch.

Dawn’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of footsteps
outside her bedroom door. Immediately, her breath caught in her chest and she
froze. In the stillness, she listened to the soft sounds coming from the other
side of her door.

She’d been here before. Once, not too long after she’d
left New York, she was squatting with some kids who were about her age at the
time. She’d been sloppy then, using Richard’s credit card to buy food whenever
she got hungry, not dyeing her hair. She was still Jennifer Waters then, and
totally clueless.

It was in Columbus that the cops had shown up at the
old, dilapidated house she was spending her nights in. One of the other kids
had let them in under threat of eviction from the derelict place. Dawn, or
Jenny then, was sharing a bedroom with another girl about her age, and in the
middle of the night, she woke to hear the conversation concerning her.

“We’re looking for a Miss Jennifer Waters,” she heard
someone say then, and just like now, her breath stopped in her chest.

“Yeah, she’s upstairs, one of the bedrooms,” a kid
said, his voice hushed and scared.

“Which one?” a voice replied, but this time there
wasn’t a solid answer. She could only pray that the person who had given her up
was stalling for time, or that maybe they were just forgetful. Either way,
she’d known she had to act fast.

The house was three stories tall. The attic had been
turned into an apartment by the previous owners, and when she’d first arrived
at the home, she’d been offered a spot up there with some of the other older
kids who were squatting there, but something told her not to take it. The
outside stairs that led to the apartment had long fallen apart and were a
deathtrap for anyone who tried to navigate them. That alone told her not to
stay up there.

Instead, Jenny had selected to stay on the second
floor in a room with a broken window and a girl who never spoke. Whether the
poor girl was mute or just painfully shy, she’d never found out. Everyone just
called her Hush, but she didn’t seem to mind the nickname. It suited her.

There was no time for her to think herself lucky for
staying in that second floor room. Footsteps were getting closer and closer,
and she had to act quickly.

Jenny had moved purely on instinct then. There was no
time to pack up anything, no time to say goodbye. The drafty window that never
closed properly was now her salvation. Easily, she pushed it open and stared
down at the ground that might have been ten feet below her.

She was about to jump, leaving all her things behind,
when her roommate’s fingers caught the old hoodie she wore to sleep in. Jenny
turned then, and in the poor girl’s eyes she saw her pleading with her not to
go, but she had no choice.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered so quietly that even she
wasn’t sure she heard herself, and then she jumped.

The ground was hard and wet from the early morning
frost on the grass, but she didn’t mind. Even then, when she was first on her
own, she always remembered what her father had taught her about not being seen
or heard. The cops were still inside, and she tiptoed past their parked cruiser
before she broke out in a sprint, leaving Columbus behind forever.

That had been almost two years ago, but she’d been so
careful since then. No credit cards, always dyeing her hair, never using her
real name, but now there was someone in her house, and she had to move quickly
before whoever it was discovered her in her bed.

It was then that Dawn started to shake the grogginess
out of her mind and she started to remember the previous night’s events. She
was so close to climbing out another window to escape, but as her consciousness
came around, she almost laughed at her own foolishness.

It’s Nash
, she thought to herself.
You let
him sleep on the couch.

Thinking back to it, Dawn was starting to realize what
a bad idea that had been. The man was FBI, as unconventional as he seemed, and
she’d not only invited him into her home, but let him stay the night. He could
have done any manner of snooping around while she slept, and now she had that
to worry about on top of everything else.

Before she climbed out of bed, Dawn’s mind raced over
the things in her home that might hint at her being anyone but Dawn Garrett,
but she couldn’t find anything. After she’d left Columbus, she had truly left
Jennifer Waters behind. Some cash she’d earned panhandling in Dayton had bought
her a fake ID with the name Cynthia Cox, and from there, she began to make her
way southeast.

Jennifer was as good as dead, and the only proof of
her existence was in New York City, and maybe some scraps in Ohio. Nash would
find nothing in her house. She had made sure of that.

Still, she couldn’t help but be nervous. He might not
be like most cops, but he was still a cop.

Dawn knew she couldn’t hide in her bedroom all day,
and she forced herself out of bed. She debated putting on a pair of jeans and a
t-shirt to meet Agent Nash, but she decided to leave on the old flannel pajama
pants, and the faded shirt she wore would be fine. She didn’t want to look like
she was trying to dress up or do anything special, even if she wouldn’t quite
admit that part to herself.

“Morning,” she said as she stepped out of her bedroom,
but what she saw in her kitchen startled her.

In front of the stove leaned Agent Kevin Nash, wearing
only his jeans from the night before as he sipped a cup of coffee. Dawn knew
she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t help herself. He was more muscular than
she’d imagined, and for a flash, all she wanted was to run her fingers over his
smooth, strong chest and let him hold her.

“Morning,” he said, breaking her out of the spell.
“Hope you don’t mind that I made coffee.”

“Nope,” she said as casually as she could muster.
Behind him, she saw the can of grocery store coffee, but then she noticed the
open bottle of whiskey.

Did I leave that open last night?
she thought
to herself, unsure if she had or not. It was either that, or a federal agent
was spicing up his coffee before ten in the morning.

Still, she tried to ignore it as she moved to pour
herself some of the strong brew. It was better than the decaf she’d offered the
night before, and while she was tempted to grab the whiskey for herself, she
decided against it.

“So,” she began, trying to think what to say. She was
too distracted by the shirtless man in her kitchen. It was not only his
muscular body, but the crisscrossing pattern of faded scars he wore that caught
her attention. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Not bad,” Nash said as he finished off his coffee.
“Your couch is a lot nicer than the motel bed, that’s for sure. Didn’t hear
anything else in the night, either. It was probably just a raccoon.”

“Probably,” Dawn nodded, but she still wasn’t so sure.
The footfalls on her porch had been heavy and loud, not the soft steps of a
small animal.

She was about to ask him more, to try to talk to him
about anything but what was going on in town, or maybe even a little more about
himself, about the scars even, when she heard the wail of distant sirens.

“Shit,” Nash grumbled as they both leaned toward the
window just in time to see two police cruisers race by.

“Do you think...?” Dawn began, unsure she wanted to
even finish the thought. The last time the cops raced through town was when
they found the body of the missing hiker. Dawn couldn’t even begin to let
herself think what it could be this time.

“It’s not her,” Agent Nash said to reassure her. “I
would have gotten a call.”

“And if it is?” Dawn said as she nervously chewed her
lip.

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Nash promised her.
“But I think that’s my cue to get going.”

“Probably,” she said, unsure whether she was relieved
to see him go or not.

Still, she wanted to know more about him. As much as
the idea of a cop in her house made her nervous, Dawn was glad he’d spent the
night. He made her feel safe, protected, even. She hadn’t felt that way since
her father had passed away.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Nash said as he pulled on his
shirt. “And call me if anything comes up, even if it’s another raccoon.”

“I will,” Dawn said, though she wasn’t sure if she
could keep that promise. She was already getting too attached, and that was
against her self-imposed rules of staying safe.

With the agent gone to follow where the cop cars had
driven off to, Dawn decided to keep busy by doing some much-needed tidying
around her home. Letting her mind wander would be disastrous, especially now
that the seed had been planted that the sirens had been for Courtney.

Even though her furniture was sparse and her decor was
sparser, there were coffee cups now littered around her house, and she hadn’t
cleaned in weeks. Even the garbage was starting to pile over the edge of the
waste bin beside her slightly rusted fridge.

With everything else clear and her scrubbing finally
complete, Dawn gathered up the trash bag and put it by the door for when she
left. There hadn’t been a word from Agent Nash, and she was finally starting to
let herself breathe again. If it had been Courtney, he would have told her.
He’d promised her that, and she had to believe him. Not that she knew she could
trust him, but to get through the day, she had no choice.

It was getting colder in Goosemont as the winter winds
started to pick up. It was still only early November, but Dawn pulled on a
thicker coat to combat the mountain cold before she grabbed the bag of trash
and headed out the door.

Behind the small house she rented was a rusty old
dumpster that she and a few other houses shared. It had a bit of a smell in the
summer, but it meant cheaper rent, so she put up with the occasional night of
pungent odor.

Her mind was so focused on not focusing on any one
thing that Dawn almost missed seeing them. To the left of the dumpster, through
the siding of her cabin, were five deep gouges carved into the wood.

“What the hell?” Dawn muttered to herself as she
leaned down to examine the marks. They were deeper than they appeared on first
glance, ragged and fresh.

Dawn’s chest tightened as she examined the scratches.
Do
bears have five claws?
she asked herself. It would make sense. A dumpster
full of trash was a prime target for a bear. Even Jim said that when he was a
kid, it was a dumpster that the bear was going for. It had to be a bear.

So why were the scratches more suited to the shape of
a human hand than a bear paw?

Dawn quickly tossed out her bag of trash and jogged
back around to the front of the house. It had to be a bear, nothing else made
logical sense. She had to keep telling herself that.

Still, she wondered as she made her way to the bar
that afternoon. If it was a bear, she hoped that Jim’s theory that hunters
would arrive in town soon would hold true and they would put an end to the bear
that had killed the hikers.

She realized as she walked through town that she
didn’t put Courtney in the same lot as the other missing women. In her heart,
she still blamed Gavin Mosley, the ball player that Courtney had last been seen
with. Despite what the feds said, despite the fact that the body in town had
been mauled by an animal, Dawn was certain that Mosley was to blame, and there
was little that could sway her heart.

The bar was empty when she finally arrived, and for
once, she was glad of it. She’d done the thing she’d told herself not to do and
dwelled on Courtney’s disappearance, turning her already apprehensive mood into
one of bitter sadness.

“Hey, Dawn,” Jim said as he looked up from the table
he was moping at.

“Hey,” she said as she hung up her coat. “Um, you
didn’t hear sirens earlier today, did you?”

“Sure did,” he said. “I have to admit, I feared the
worse and thought it might be Courtney, poor girl.”

“Did you hear anything?” Dawn asked, her heart
clenching in her chest at her friend’s name.

“Nah.” Jim slowly shook his head. “But I’d like to
think we would have heard something, if it was.”

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed. “That’s kind of what I thought.”

After a couple of hours at work, part of Dawn wished
she’d had just stayed home. No one was coming in, rumors of wild bears killing
people in the streets were starting to circulate, and there wasn’t much for her
to do but sit at the bar and drink beers with her middle-aged boss. Clipped
conversation flowed like the rusty old taps of the bar, and every so often, Jim
or Gabe would repeat, “We would have heard something by now, if it were her.”

Dawn was getting sick of the moping. With no customers
to distract them, all they could do was entertain each other, and they were all
doing a pretty poor job of it. Jim was half drunk before what would have been
their regular dinner rush, Gabe was making nachos for them to snack on, and
Dawn was on her third beer of the day.

She told herself the reason she stayed was to be there
if any customers did show up. That, and she was there to help keep poor old Jim
company while he moped. He seemed more beat up about Courtney’s disappearance
than anyone.

But she knew the real reason she stayed as long as she
did: she wanted to see Agent Nash again. She wanted to have him walk through
the double doors of the bar, his green eyes looking only for her. In her mind,
she let herself pretend she served him a beer while he smiled at her and
offered to keep her safe another night.

“Stop it,” she said to herself to kill the fantasy,
but then she quickly remembered she wasn’t alone.

“Huh?” Jim said, his voice touched with a bit of a
slur.

“Nothing,” Dawn stuttered. “Just… I need to stop
moping around, is all.”

“We all do,” Gabe said as he set the platter of nachos
down for them to share. “Just think, tomorrow, the hunters will be here.”