Bear or Ewan and Snake? The choice could kill me. I closed my BlackBerry and sat on the floor in the dark, my ear pressed against the door. It may have been hours, it may have been ten minutes, but I heard no further rumbling, and nothing clawed at the door from the other side.
I was still holding my plastic bag. Knowing bears could smell food from miles away, I got up and stowed the bag in the fridge. I called Rae’s number, but there was no answer. I left a message warning her about the bear.
I really, really hated nature. I could hardly wait to move back to town where sidewalks and pruned bushes discouraged wild animals, and the worst thing you could meet in the dark was a Doberman on a leash or your neighbour mooning you in the backyard. I’d take a bare ass over a wild bear any day.
Even though I had to pee, I didn’t dare go outside and climb the hill to the recreation building. A full bladder and terror are not conducive to restful sleep, but exhaustion finally claimed me and Morpheus held me in a steely grip until a pain in my abdomen woke me at first light.
The pain was my bladder about to let go. Frantically, I tried to think of something to use as a receptacle. Pulling open the only cupboard in the trailer, I surveyed the possibilities. One small pot and one plastic bowl. Not enough, even combined.
Unlocking the door, I stuck my head out and sniffed. Cooking odours drifted from the Quigley trailer. Vanilla and some other unfamiliar seasoning. No musty bear odour.
Bat in hand, I scurried around back and sought out a suitable spot. Not that I had time to be fussy, but I needed privacy. Finding a clump of low-growing wild junipers, I climbed into the middle and hunkered down to business.
Junipers have short, scratchy needles, and the dried leaves I was forced to use in lieu of two-ply were going to leave serious scars. Just as I pulled up my undies, which were beginning to resemble a shredded thong, I heard crackling nearby. Something was shuffling through the deep blanket of pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. And it was coming my way.
I squatted down again and my fingers found the bat. Dragging it behind, I crawled deeper into the junipers. I couldn’t smell the bear, but if it was out there it would be able to smell me. It was too late to run.
The shuffling became louder and closer and, just as I imagined the pain of thick, sharp claws closing on the skin of my neck, someone spoke.
The voice was no farther than five or six feet from my juniper cave. I scrunched up in a ball and tried not to whimper.
“You shouldn’t be here, man. It’s too close to ground zero. We could meet somewhere tonight.” The voice was low and gravelly.
Oh boy. Snake. I could only pray that my red tee-shirt didn’t show through the branches of the junipers. I pulled the back of the shirt down over my rump.
“I parked on the concession road and walked in. I know it’s dangerous, but you need to know what’s happening in town.”
I clapped my hand over my mouth to thwart the cry of surprise that almost leapt from my throat. It couldn’t be …
“I’ll walk back to the road with you. It’s almost sunrise and Miss Bliss, for one, is up pretty early.” Snake sniggered.
Chief Redfern laughed right along with his friend. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t screw up the whole deal. She hasn’t mentioned you, which makes me suspicious. Any other woman would run screaming to the cops about the big, bad biker in the woods, but not her. I think …”
The words faded out and I lay shaking on the damp ground under my green canopy. Redfern was crooked. Who would better know the intricacies of the drug trade than a former drug cop from Toronto? Maybe the years of watching endless amounts of illegal money flow around him, combined with the unexpected death of his wife, made him cynical, and he had turned into one of the bad guys. Thank God I hadn’t confided in him about my fear of Ewan and Snake.
I remembered the bear and shot up out of the junipers. Ignoring my bare feet, I ran back to my trailer where I pulled on my overalls and started stuffing a change of clothes and some toiletries into a plastic bag. I locked the trailer behind me and fled to the clearing where my Savage waited. Barely taking the time to buckle on my helmet, I pushed the bag and my leather jacket into the saddlebag and sped away from Hemp Hollow.
Chapter
EIGHTEEN
Pan took a step back when he opened the door. He didn’t exactly hold his nose, but he didn’t take any deep breaths either. It wasn’t my fault I smelled bad. After the Night of the Bear and the Dawn of the Crooked Cop, I was lucky I wasn’t followed to Glory’s by a pack of dogs.
“It’s pretty early, Bliss.”
“I know what time it is, Pan. There’s a bear living behind my place, and I wanted to get away while it was still sleeping.”
“A bear?” Pan didn’t look convinced. “I don’t think so. I haven’t heard any reports of bears being spotted anywhere near town.”
“I know what I saw. And smelled. Anyway, here I am, ready to clean. So, out of my way.”
I wasn’t going to mention the conversation I heard between Snake and Redfern. In this case, a burden shared was not necessarily a burden lightened. I was beginning to think there was an organized drug ring operating in Lockport and, for all I knew, Pan was part of it. He had visited the Quigley trailer on at least one occasion.
Edging Pan aside, I surveyed Glory’s palatial foyer. There was a faint shadow in one corner. The shadow was slowly fluttering, set in motion by the current of air from the closing door. A cobweb.
Glory was known to foam at the mouth when confronted by a cobweb, invariably followed up by her trademark high-pitched shrieking. But, before dealing with cobwebs, I had to clean myself up.
“Is she sleeping?”
Still standing upwind, Pan nodded. “Lady Gloryness won’t be up for another hour or two.”
“Good. Is there coffee on?”
In the kitchen, I drank a mug of water, then poured coffee into the same mug from the European carafe on the counter. Carrying the coffee, I nabbed my canvas bag from the foyer floor and headed up the curved staircase.
“Wait,” Pan called anxiously behind me. “She’s still sleeping, and believe me, you don’t want to wake her up.”
“I won’t. I’m going to start on the guest bathrooms, well away from the Queen’s hive.”
I chose the bathroom farthest from Glory’s master suite and stripped down. Stepping into a shower spacious enough to hold the entire Lockport High football team, I used the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash from the supply on the built-in shelving. My road rash was pretty well scabbed over, but the hot water stung some fresh scratches from the junipers, including a few where the sun never shines.
After dressing, I finished my coffee and tied my wet hair back in a ponytail. Then I got out the cleaning supplies. Pulling rubber gloves over my moisturized hands, I set to work on the bathroom, moving on to the other three in record time.
Until Glory was awake, I couldn’t clean her bathroom or use the vacuum cleaner upstairs. I dropped my carryall near the door and surveyed the cobweb. The aroma of eggs and bacon hit me like an invisible force, and my stomach contracted painfully.
Pan stood behind me, chewing rapidly and cradling a napkin-wrapped breakfast burrito in one fist. He sniffed.
“Did you take a shower up there?”
“Better you don’t know. Then Glory can’t extract the information under torture.”
The smell of the burrito was torment. But, eating on the job was pushing it, so I didn’t ask for a bite. Pan offered me the object he was holding