Tamarack River Ghost (33 page)

As she got closer, the smoke smell became even stronger. Soon she saw what it was; the big new hog house at Nathan West was on fire, flames shooting into the air. She immediately got on her radio and called in the fire, alerting the local volunteer fire departments and letting the sheriff ’s office know.

She parked a safe distance away, grabbed her bag, which contained her cell phone, and ran around to the back of the building. Through the single window, she thought she saw movement inside, but she couldn’t be sure. She was clearly the first person to arrive at the scene. Could someone be trapped inside? One entire end of the building was on fire, smoke and flames everywhere. She forced open a door and entered the burning building, which was filled with thick, acrid smoke.

“Anybody in here?” she yelled. “Anybody in here?”

No response. She yelled again, “Anybody in here?” Then she heard what sounded like the tinkling of a bell, coming from deep within the building. The smoke was so thick that even with her flashlight she could see only a few feet in front of her. She was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. She decided to return to the outside, but in the thick smoke she couldn’t find the door, couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe. She was on her knees, gasping for breath, the dense smoke curling around her. Then everything went black.

Oscar Anderson smelled smoke and saw flames lighting the night sky of the Tamarack River Valley. He hopped into his pickup and drove to the former golf course. He arrived the same time as Fred Russo. By this point, a half dozen fire trucks were spraying water on the fire, which still blazed out of control. On the way, Oscar met an ambulance, its red lights flashing and siren wailing.

“Geez,” said Fred when Oscar told him about seeing the ambulance. “Wonder what that’s all about?”

“Somebody must have gotten hurt in the fire,” said Oscar. “Wonder who?”

The sheriff ’s deputies strung up yellow tape to keep a growing number of spectators a safe distance from the fire.

“What happened?” Oscar asked one of them.

“I don’t know; when I got here, the whole thing was on fire. Terrible fire,” said the deputy.

“I just met the ambulance; did somebody get hurt?” asked Oscar.

“The game warden, Natalie Karlsen. Dan Burman found her just inside the door of the burning building. He must have gotten to the fire right after the warden and seen her go inside. He went in and dragged her out. I heard she was alive, but just barely. Smoke inhalation can be a killer. Burman’s a hero,” said the deputy.

“Imagine that, Dan Burman a hero,” said Oscar. Oscar had known Burman since he was a kid but never thought much of him. Burman had a reputation for hating the DNR. “Imagine him saving the game warden. Hard to believe.”

“Wonder how the fire got started?” asked Fred. By now the building had nearly burned to the ground.

“I bet it was the Tamarack River Ghost,” answered Oscar.

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” said Fred.

“Nope, I’m not. The ghost didn’t want all these buildings and thousands of smelly pigs messing up his valley. The ghost takes care of this valley. Protects it.”

“Oscar, you are losing it. The old-timer’s disease has got you by the collar.”

“Scoff away, Fred. Make fun of me. Snicker away. But mark my word; the Tamarack River Ghost has got to be reckoned with.”

“Well I’ve got some other suspects in mind.”

“Like who?”

“Like some animal rights organization. They could’ve done it. Remember how that woman shot off her mouth at the meeting last winter?”

“They could have. But they didn’t. The Tamarack River Ghost started this fire.”

Josh was asleep when the ringing phone awakened him. He glanced at his watch; it was 10:30 p.m. He picked up the phone and mumbled, “Hello.”

“Is this Josh Wittmore?”

“Yes,” answered Josh. He didn’t recognize the voice.

“This is Sheriff Bliss, and I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you.”

“Yes?” was all Josh could think to say. He was now fully awake.

“You are good friends with Warden Natalie Karlsen?”

“Yes, yes I am. Has something happened to Natalie?”

“She’s in the Willow River Hospital. She got caught in a big fire out here at the Nathan West hog operation.”

“A big fire at Nathan West? What burned? Will Natalie be okay?”

“The new hog house burned to the ground, and I don’t know how Natalie Karlsen is doing. But I wanted you to know.”

“Thank you,” Josh said.

For the past several weeks, Josh had turned off his scanner when he came home from work, something he had previously never done. When he learned that his new boss at
Farm Country News
really didn’t want him covering stories, he decided not to bother listening to his scanner. Still, had it been on, he would have known about the fire and would have hurried out to the golf course to get the story. But now he quickly pulled on his clothes and drove to the hospital, only a short distance from his apartment. After parking, he sprinted to the hospital door, a revolving affair that seemed to take forever to go around. He hurried to the information desk.

“Could you tell me Natalie Karlsen’s room number, please?”

The person on duty scanned a computer screen in front of her. “Room 325,” she said.

Josh ran to the elevator, punched the up button several times, and waited and waited for the elevator door to open. When it did arrive, he pushed “3” and soon was on the third floor, standing in front of the nurse’s station.

“Can I help you?” the nurse on duty asked.

“I’m here to see Natalie Karlsen,” Josh blurted out. “I believe she’s in room 325.”

“Yes, she is. But she may be sleeping. She had a close call today.”

Josh knocked gently on the door before entering. Natalie’s eyes were
closed, and her nose and mouth were covered with a plastic mask. Tubes were stuck in her arms.

Josh touched her on the arm and said quietly, “It’s Josh, Natalie.”

Her eyes flickered open, and she smiled. Josh took her hand in his. She gently squeezed it.

“I love you,” Josh said. He had tears in his eyes. Natalie squeezed his hand again.

“You’d better get some sleep,” said Josh. “I’ll wait around for a while before I go home.”

Josh saw Natalie’s bag on the chair next to him. It looked as if some of the loose sheets of paper stuffed in it might fall out if someone moved it so Josh decided to fold the papers and push them further into the bag.

He glanced at the first sheet—it appeared to be a poem, and the byline was “M.D.”
How did Natalie get one of M.D.’s poems?
he wondered. He held the sheet of smudged paper in his hand for a moment. And then it hit him. Natalie was M.D. The mysterious writer of poetry—this possibility had never occurred to him. As well as he had come to know her, she had never once let on that she wrote poetry or had ever submitted anything to his or any other publication. He was both surprised and angry. Why had she not shared with him what she’d been writing? After all, he was the one who decided to publish it.

But then a darker thought crossed his mind. Did Natalie write the possibly threatening letter about Nathan West? And did she have something to do with starting the fire? His reporter’s instincts kicked in. He would have to find the answers to these troubling questions. He glanced over at Natalie, sleeping peacefully. The answers would have to wait.

Josh slept fitfully. His mind was on Natalie, the identity of M.D., and the huge fire that had completely destroyed one of Nathan West’s main buildings. Was it possible that Natalie, the woman he loved, was an arsonist? Was she someone with such an overzealous concern for the environment that she would burn a building to make a point?

He had a vivid dream of a wild-eyed blonde woman, splashing gasoline on the new hog house and then touching a match to the liquid, and watching, laughing wildly, as the flames quickly spread up its side. Through an enormous cloud of black smoke, he heard the woman yelling in a high-pitched, eerie voice, “The Tamarack River Ghost doesn’t want you here. The valley doesn’t want you here. Leave, and don’t ever come back.” Then she walked into the burning building and disappeared as the flames shot ever higher into the air and the smoke became blacker and denser. As he watched the building burn, a strange apparition appeared above it—a white ghostlike creature emerging from the fire without seeming to be harmed by it. A faceless blonde joined the apparition, which embraced her. Then the two merged into one ghostly figure that floated off toward the river, away from the fire. He heard singing as the apparition slowly moved away:

He sat up in bed, wide awake. Had he really heard the song? Was it in his room, or was it just a dream, a bad dream? He glanced at his bedside clock—4:00 a.m. He walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.
He knew there would be no more sleep this night. The memory of the dream played over and over again, as he sat at his little kitchen table, drank coffee, and tried to sort out his feelings toward Natalie.

At 8:00 a.m., he drove to the hospital. He went directly to Natalie’s room, where he found her sitting up, looking mostly like her old self. The oxygen mask had been removed from her face, as had the tubes from her arms. She was eating breakfast.

“Good morning, Josh,” she said, smiling. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I can order one for you.”

“No thanks.”

“You are looking terribly glum on this fine morning, and rather tired, too, I might add.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“How come? I hope you weren’t worried about me. I just got a little too much smoke last night. Doctor said I could go home this morning and that I’m fine.”

“We’ve got to talk,” Josh said.

“You are the serious one this morning. You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

“Maybe I have,” said Josh quietly.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Natalie sipped on her coffee.

“Last night when I was here, some papers were falling out of your bag, which was over on that chair.”

He pointed to a chair next to the wall on the far side of the room where her bag still sat.

“I saw some poetry written by M.D. You are M.D., aren’t you?” asked Josh, frowning.

“You’ve finally found me out.” Natalie held up her hands. “Yes, I’m the mysterious M.D. I wouldn’t dare have used my real name, being the county conservation warden.”

“But . . . but you could have told me. I wouldn’t have told anyone. I know how to keep a secret!” Josh hesitated for moment before continuing. “Did you . . . did you write that rather threatening letter I shared with you on the phone?”

“Of course not. Somebody else was trying to remind us of Mortimer Dunn—the letter was not mine.”

The room filled with silence.

“What?” Natalie asked, raising her voice.

“About the fire—” Josh stammered.

More silence filled the room as the young couple stared at each other.

“You think that I . . . You think that I started that fire that almost killed me?”

“I . . . I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it, aren’t you? You’re thinking I did it.”

Now the room was filled with thick, emotional silence.

“Well, Mr. Josh Wittmore, you just turn around and leave this room right now. Leave me alone, you hear.”

“But, but—”

“Just leave,” Natalie said as she burst into tears.

Josh turned and left the room, then drove toward his office. He felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He couldn’t remember when he had felt more awful.

As he passed by the counter outside his office, he picked up the morning copy of the
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
. He tossed the paper on his desk and turned on his computer and waited for it to boot up.

“Wittmore, did I hear you come in?” his boss yelled from the office next door.

“I’m here.”

“Well, get your ass in my office. Right now.”

Josh dragged himself out of his chair and walked into the office next door.

“You look like hell,” his boss said, by way of greeting.

“I didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Have you seen this? Have you read this?” Lexington was waving a copy of the
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
.

“Not yet—I just picked up my copy.”

“Well, let me tell you what’s here. Let me tell you about the biggest story of the year and how you missed it. Completely missed it.”

Josh almost blurted out, “What story?” But he remained silent.

“See this?” Lexington was waving a copy of the newspaper again.

“Did you know that one of Nathan West’s big hog barns burned last night? Burned to the ground. Did you know that?” Lexington yelled.

“Yes, I heard about that.”

“Well, why weren’t you out there, taking pictures, interviewing people, putting together a story? Where the hell were you?” Josh chose not to admit that he’d turned off his scanner and hadn’t heard about the fire until the sheriff called him.

“I was at the hospital with my friend, Natalie, who was caught in that fire. I think I have my priorities straight, which is more than I can say for you,” Josh blurted out, his face red with anger. “Besides, you told me not to cover stories like this.”

“Are you challenging me? Are you questioning my priorities?” Lexington asked, the veins in his neck bulging.

“You just don’t get it, do you, Lexington?” Josh said. This was the first time he called his boss by his last name. “You have no idea what good journalism is all about. All you’re interested in is the almighty dollar, journalism be damned.”

“You . . . you impertinent bastard. Where do you get off, talking to me like this?” shouted Lexington.

“It’s about time somebody stood up to you and all the rest of those hiding behind journalism, trying to make money by being deceptive. This thing you call a newspaper—it’s no newspaper. It’s just a bunch of poorly written ads with some paid-for freelance material tossed in to make it look legitimate. Well, it’s not legitimate, not by a long shot.”

“Are you finished? You done with your little tirade?”