Chapter1 Read online

  Way to go, Hazen. Make my day.

  “Are ya with those other flatlanders that been coming in here lately?” Skinny Chester interrupted, walking up behind Jude.

  “I give up,” Jude said. “What’s a flatlander?” How could anyone live here and keep their sanity?

  All four men laughed.

  “Well, fella,” Hazen explained, “a flatlander is someone from outta’ state. Like you, I figure.”

  Jude’s interest stirred again. This store was a wealth of information. He chuckled. “Oh. I get it. Been a lot of flatlanders in here lately?”

  “Sure have,” Chester was on a roll. “A lot of different ones. Come in at least once a week. Came in yestaday. Don’t figure they be doin’ no fishin’ neither. They buy ammo and beer. Up to no good is what I think. Mighty peculiar what with all them goings on at the lodge.”

  Hazen’s fist slammed the counter, knocking the highlighter on the floor. “No one wants your damn opinion, Chester,” he shouted. “So shut up.”

  Jude filed the information in his head and picked up his items. He headed for the door.

  “Hey, stranger,” Hazen called him back. “You forgot your marka here.”

  Jude walked back to the counter and took the highlighter Hazen had picked up off the floor. His stomach chose that moment to growl its protest at the lack of food.

  “Your belly’s talking to ya, stranger,” Hazen observed, grinning ear-to-ear like he’d won fifty-thousand dollars on a TV game show. “Why don’t ya pick up some vittles while you’re here?”

  Jude dubiously looked around the store, seeing nothing that enticed his taste buds, even if he was starving. “Any suggestions?”

  “How about a couple of hotdogs?”

  Why not? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a hotdog. “Sounds good. I’ll take two, loaded.”

  He moved down the aisle and grabbed a carton of milk, checking the expiration date. No telling how long it had been sitting in the cooler. Glancing around the small store, he was amazed at the variety of items for sale. Everything from outdoor clothing, boots, ammunition, fishing tackle and live bait, to food staples such as bread, milk and butter, baby food and diapers. He didn’t much care for the moose heads hanging on the walls. Huge ugly animals. Nothing he’d ever want to see roaming around the woods.

  “Here you go. Just the way you ordered ‘em.”

  Jude returned to the counter and stared at the hotdogs. “They’re red.”

  “What?” Hazen asked. “Course they’re red. They’re red hotdogs.”

  “Hotdogs aren’t red,” Jude insisted. The others snickered from behind him.

  “I don’t know where ya come from fella, but in these parts hotdogs are red.”

  Jude shook his head, handed more money to Hazen, picked up his red hotdogs and left.

  He inhaled a deep breath of clean, fresh air, relieved to be out of the smoky interior of the store. He climbed back in the Land Rover and situated his food so that he could eat while driving.

  For the first ten miles he traveled a wide, hard-packed dirt road. Other than a few rabbits, he had the road to himself. If the road conditions stayed this good, sixty miles should only take two hours tops.

  The hotdogs were delicious. He forced down thoughts about the red dye used to color the casing. Hopefully, the dye had been tested by the FDA. Yeah right.

  His mood soured when he turned onto a much narrower road. The Land Rover bounced in and out of potholes, jarring his teeth. Forced to reduce his speed to twenty miles an hour, he hoped to God he didn’t meet another vehicle, or even worse, get a flat tire. He doubted Triple AAA made trips out here. He turned on his cell phone and saw the “no service” signal. What a surprise.

  The road narrowed to the width of one vehicle.

  He rounded a sharp curve and came upon a road sign. Keep to the right. Logging trucks have the right of way. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Jesus. Keep right? Logging trucks? How the hell would he be able to get out of the way of a logging truck barreling towards him? Jude wiped sweat off his brow and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

  The road snaked through the woods, up the side of a mountain, down the other side. He dodged downed trees and huge rocks lying in the middle of the road. A few miles later, he saw what appeared to be a huge black boulder up ahead. Great. The boulder had four legs. A huge moose munched on weeds growing on the side of the road. Lifting its head with greenery dangling from its jaw, the beast regarded the vehicle with a visible lack of interest.

  “Great, just freaking great,” Jude muttered. He blew the horn. The moose barely glanced at him, before continuing his weed meal. Jude leaned out the window and yelled. No luck.

  He banged his forehead on the steering wheel in frustration. He inched the Land Rover forward, blowing the horn. When the vehicle was within a few feet of the animal, it ambled down into the ditch. Jude suspected that if it had come to a draw, the moose would have won hands down.

  Two miles further down the road, he rounded a turn and skidded to a stop. The road was flooded. Large areas of water on both sides made it impossible to go around. He climbed out and waded in to check the depth until he stood knee high in ice-cold water. Water filled his new hiking boots. The Land Rover could handle that. He squished his way back to the Land Rover, got in and slowly plowed through.

  He made it to the other side and through the next four sections of flooded roadway he encountered. Just a laugh a minute. At the last flood, he came across the guilty culprits. Two beaver busy building a dam on the side of the road.

  At last, he rounded the last bend in the road and saw LoonLake dead ahead. Three and a half hours had passed since he’d left the store. Never again would he complain about traffic jams in Washington, D.C.

  He sighed with relief when the cow path–he refused to call the last fifteen miles a road – ended. What a nightmare. Thank God, he hadn’t met any logging trucks. Moose in the road and the flooded roads were enough adventure for him. Frank’s directions said LoonLake was at the end of the road. Perfect description. The road ended and down the bank was the lake. He doubted the path was wide enough to turn around and get headed back to civilization.

  He shut off the engine and got out. Within seconds a cloud of mosquitoes and black flies feasted on his exposed skin. A swarm of huge flies, big enough to carry off small animals buzzed around his head. He reached into the backseat and grabbed a can of insect repellent Frank had insisted he bring. The spray got in his eyes and mouth, and he cursed his friend and mentor.

  With the bugs momentarily held at bay, he walked down to the shore and gazed out at the lake. The fiery red ball of the setting sun created a Monet style painting on the water. Three shades of pink, a soft lavender hue, and several shades of purple shimmered across the lake’s surface. Best thing he’d seen since he arrived. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a sunset as beautiful.

  He drew in a deep breath, his nose tingling at the strong smell of pine and balsam fir. He’d seen little bags of the needles for sale in the city and made a mental note to buy himself a bag or two to spice up his apartment back home.

  The silence was broken only by the buzzing insects, reminding him of the trouble he’d be in if he ran out of repellent.

  As the sun sank behind the horizon, the noises began. First, came the crickets, and then a chorus of frogs. A huge racket came from the trees. Jude had no idea what would be in the trees at night. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Attempting to canoe to the lodge in the dark would be insane. He’d had enough for one day. Accepting that he was about to spend an uncomfortable night, he climbed back in the Land Rover.

  An hour later he still twisted and turned, unable to find a comfortable position even with the seat as far back as it would go. Sweat poured off him, but if he opened a window, he’d probably need a blood transfusion by morning. He had a cramp in his foot and his back ached. He caught sight of the bow of the canoe lashed to the top of the Land Rover. It coul
d be worse, he thought, chuckling. He might be up the creek, but at least he had a paddle.

  Exhaustion was about to overcome his discomfort, when a mournful cry from the lake brought him upright in the seat. He hit his head on the side of the door. Jesus, what was that? He’d never heard anything as eerie.

  He gave up all pretense of trying to sleep and turned on his flashlight. Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a manila folder. He’d reread the Tenney case file. Katherine Sweetgrass Tenney was of Native American descent, but not full-blooded. She’d been deployed in the Middle East until her parents’ recent murders.

  Jude hoped she’d cooperate with the investigation, because the sooner he found the stolen gems, the sooner he could get the hell out of this place.

  Her military record impressed him. The rednecks in the store had been right about her skill with weapons. She’d qualified as an expert marksman right out of Officer’s Training School. Jude conjured up a mental picture of Kat Tenney shooting off someone’s hat and chuckled at the image.

  Putting the file away, he leaned back in the seat and reflected on his first day in the boonies. It hadn’t been what he’d call an outstanding success. Tomorrow would be better. Eventually, his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep with thoughts about meeting Annie Oakley in the morning.

  Chapter 2

  Jude’s sixth sense kicked in. He visually scanned the area in front of his vehicle, but saw nothing. There it was! A reflection in the side-view mirror–a slight movement in the thick bushes behind the Land Rover.

  He kept his gaze glued to the mirror and slid his right hand across to the passenger seat, searching for his 9 mm. Beretta, relieved when his fingers wrapped around the butt. He lifted the door handle with his left hand and rolled out, coming onto one knee, the Beretta pointed in the direction he’d seen the possible perp. “Freeze.”

  A moose stuck its head through the bushes, a piece of bark dangling from its mouth. Just another freaking moose. Lowering his gun, he thanked God no one was around to witness this latest snafu. He straightened and checked his watch–five in the morning.

  Yawning, he lifted his arms over his head and stretched his stiff body. He felt as if he’d spent the night folded into a suitcase. Searching through his duffle bag, he located a protein bar and ate it while he stared down the lake. The multitude of chirping and cawing birds made his head pound. Where were the soothing sounds of screeching brakes, honking horns and the colorful vocabulary of shouting cab drivers?

  Once his stomach stopped rumbling, he returned to the vehicle, grabbed his duffle bag and the two paddles from the back seat, carried them to the shore and returned to untie the canoe. He dragged it down to the lake and slid it in the water. He was ready for phase two of his journey.

  Frank’s canoeing instructions had sounded straightforward. Jude soon realized that, not only did he know diddly-squat about canoeing, he wasn’t all that sure Frank did either. He zigzagged through the water like a drunken dolphin. What bug repellent he’d put on before leaving shore had mingled with his sweat and dripped off his face. Bugs hovered around his head in a gray cloud. His leaden arms felt like they were about to fall off and muscle spasms knotted his back and shoulders. Broken blisters on his hands oozed blood.

  Frank hadn’t said anything about wearing gloves. The damn canoe refused to go in a straight line unless he switched his paddle from side to side. Two strokes on the right, two strokes on the left. And every time he switched sides, his weight shifted and threatened to capsize the canoe.

  Frank told him it shouldn’t take him more than an a few hours to reach the lodge. He’d been paddling for six hours. It was already past noon and not a building in sight. At this rate, he’d be lucky to get to the other end of the lake by tomorrow.

  The blazing hot sun beat on him. The still air didn’t offer even a hint of breeze. Silence was his only companion. Looking around, he saw nothing but water and forest. He might as well be the last man on earth. He glanced over his shoulder and realized he had no idea where along the shore he’d left the Land Rover. Or even what shore.

  As he rounded a point of land, his mood brightened. To the right he spied a small sandy beach. Keeping his eyes fixed on that piece of heaven, he battled the canoe to change direction.

  *****

  Kat’s night on the ledges had been uneventful. She’d even managed to snatch a few hours of sleep in her secret place, the cave under the rocks. Her little camp, hidden in a deep cavern below where she now sat was one of her favorite places. She’d made some wonderful memories there.

  While she crunched on dry granola cereal, she scanned the lake. She straightened when a canoe came around the nearest point of land. She dropped the baggie of cereal and grabbed the binoculars. The canoe meandered all over the water. The person paddling was a first time canoeist or dead drunk.

  Kat scooted backwards and took cover behind some trees, lying on her stomach to watch the show. The man was alone. No gear, except a duffle bag. No weapons that she could see. He wasn’t wearing BDUs, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t connected to the men in the plane who’d shot at her yesterday. Or the pair she saw in the woods. The way the canoe bobbled around made it hard to tell where he was headed. She hoped he’d land at the sandy beach below the ledges.

  “That’s it,” she whispered. “Come to Mama.”

  She pocketed the binoculars, shouldered her rifle, picked up her backpack and headed down the steep slope. She chose her footholds with caution. If she slipped, she might create a rockslide, and she planned to surprise this stranger.

  Kat positioned herself amongst the thick alders on the bank only ten feet from where the canoe would come to shore. She winced as it scraped rocks before coming to a stop. The man didn’t get out of the canoe. She watched him through her binoculars and guessed his age to be mid-thirties.

  His unfashionably long dark brown hair gave him the rakish bad boy look women couldn’t resist. Sweat soaked his shirt, and she guessed by the way he kept clenching and unclenching his hands that they were blistered. What was this greenhorn doing in the woods of northern Maine?

  She waited for his next move. He stretched, giving her a glimpse of his wide chest. A strong stirring beneath her belly button made her squirm. Great. This man might be a killer, and she was attracted to him.

  *****

  Jude sat in the canoe, relieved to be off the water. He rummaged in his bag for another protein bar, happy to find one left. Carefully, he stood in the tipsy canoe and stuffed the bar in his pocket. Something stirred in the bushes, but he paid no attention. Probably another moose.

  The branches parted and a slender person emerged and walked towards the canoe. At first glance, Jude thought it was a teenaged boy. But when he saw the beautiful eyes the color of emeralds, complete with long black curly lashes, reality hit him like a punch to the stomach. This was Kat Tenney.

  From her picture, he knew she’d be small, but not this small. A strong wind would blow her away. He guessed her weight to be about a hundred pounds, and then only if she had rocks in her pockets. Her cheekbones were high, a gift from her ancestors. All female attributes remained well-hidden under Army fatigues a few sizes too big for her. She even wore combat boots. Her hair was shoved up under a camouflage boonie hat.

  “Hi there.” Jude smiled in a way that had never failed to win over old ladies and babies. His smile faded fast. The barrel of her rifle was pointed right at his chest. Her index finger rested on the trigger, her thumb on the safety.

  “Shit,” Jude cursed. His own gun lay buried in the duffle bag instead of in his shoulder harness where it belonged. He’d found it easier to paddle without it. “Hey, take it easy.” Jude spoke softly, holding his hands in front of him, palms up. “I’m unarmed. I’m looking for Katherine Tenney. She owns Loon Lake Lodge. Perhaps you know her?” The ‘take no prisoners’ look in those green eyes had him worried. He couldn’t blurt out that he knew who she was. He’d end up with a rifle barrel pressed against his throat
as she demanded to know how he knew what she looked like.

  “I’m Kat Tenney.” Her voice was soft and sweet, so sweet that his mouth dropped open. But her eyes were hostile. “Best close your mouth or you’ll choke on the bugs. And you are…?”

  Jude pulled himself up to his full height and decided to lighten a tense situation. “Glad to meet you, ma’am,” he drawled. “Do you often wander around the woods in your G.I. Jane uniform?”

  He immediately realized the intended joke was a mistake. Her expression hardened, along with her grip on the rifle. “You’re trespassing. And since I’m the one with the gun, I’d suggest you remember it. Who are you?”

  At the distinct click of the safety being released Jude burst into rapid speech. “Name’s Jude Callahan. I work for the U.S. Border Patrol, and I’m here to check the security status of the U.S./Canadian border in this area of Maine. I’d like to rent one of your cabins at the Lodge for a few weeks.” Tired of teetering in the canoe, he lifted a foot to step out.

  Without warning, a large dog charged out of the trees behind Kat. Dogs fell in the same category as guns. He pulled his foot back into the canoe.

  “Heel!” G.I. Jane commanded. The dog went to her side, but his yellow eyes remained steadfast on him. She gestured toward Jude with her rifle. “Get out of the canoe. You no more work for Border Patrol than I do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jude stood at attention as best he could in the unstable canoe, before stepping onto the sand.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Jude muttered under his breath while following her orders. Nothing was going according to plan. He was an FBI agent for God’s sake, and so far today he’d almost shot a moose and now a woman held him hostage. “Would you put that gun away? It’s making me nervous.”

  “On the ground, face down, hands behind your head.” She spoke with the authority of a military officer.