Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
When I was here this past summer, he leaned on the counter and squinted at me. “You be careful up here. There’s a rabid bear roaming this wilderness. Tore a woman and her child to pieces a few years back.”
“If he was rabid a few years ago, he’d be dead by now, don’t you think?” I hated to use science and logic as a weapon, but...please.
“Well, he may not be rabid, but he’s definitely feral,” the old man had claimed.
I couldn’t help the scorn that must’ve crept over my face. “Bears can’t be feral. We don’t keep them as pets.”
The man thumped my change down on the counter and glared at me. “Crazy, then! There’s a crazy bear out there. Uncanny-like. Enormous animal with eyes that glow yellow and a real desire to destroy things. Same time that woman and her child got killed, the bear scored every tree in a three mile radius with his claws.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard about your bear,” I tell him now. “But you haven’t had any bear problems recently, right?”
“No, it’s been a few years. But something was wrong with the animal, I’m telling you. You mind your dog, or that bear might kill him just for sport—mark my words.”
Right. And Bigfoot might invite me to a tea party. I wanted to argue that bear attacks are incredibly rare, and just because an animal is an apex predator doesn’t mean it’s out to get humans. Most animals just want to be left alone in their natural habitat. And don’t get me started on the villainizing of sharks and bears and wolves in animated children’s movies.
The guy points at the number on the register. “Twenty-eight twenty-two.”
Yeah, like I said—overpriced.
I hand over my money and try to quell the stirring in my stomach. “Okay, I’ll keep him close at all times. Thanks for the warning.”
Despite the fact that I’d put my reusable bags on the counter with the food, the guy slid all my food into plastic ones.
I take them and dump the food into my canvas sacks and hand the bags back to him. “I don’t need these, thanks.”
As I head out the door, I hear him call after me, “You be careful, you hear?”
“Yep, I will. Thank you!”
Inside my Subaru, Bear gives a happy bark to see me return.
I open the door and put the bags of groceries on the passenger seat while Bear lunges forward and tries to kiss my face from the back seat. “You ready to go to the cabin, boy?”
He chuffs and tries to lick some more.
I angle my face away and give him a quick head rub. “Go lie down,” I tell him.
He promptly hops over the back seat into the trunk area, where I put his bed, and curls into it.
I smile into the rear view mirror. “Good boy.”
Snowflakes hit my windshield, and I say a prayer to the weather gods. The weather app I checked said there’d be a light wintry mix but would clear up tomorrow. It will be chilly, but I should be able to complete my research and get home by the end of the week.
Chapter 2
Caleb
It’s snowing.
All I can think about is the redhead and whether she made it to her cabin safely. I feel a cold front coming in, and my bear’s telling me it’s gonna be a bad snowstorm. Weather turns quickly up here.
The good thing about the snow is it might deter the psycho who preys on female hikers.
The bad thing is it makes the determined researcher far more vulnerable. If she’s snowed in there, she’ll have nowhere to run.
Stupid, headstrong female.
No, not stupid. She’s a scientist. Probably extremely smart.
But I push back my grudging admiration of sturdy, self-sufficient woman like her.
I consider the danger she might be in. There’s something out there that stalks pretty young women.
Doubtful it’s the same fuck who killed my family, but I’m after him, just the same. Because I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken from you. And I won’t stand by and let that tragedy befall others.
Not in my woods.
He must live somewhere close. Trouble is, I know everyone in town. And I think my instincts would tell me if there was someone off in Pecos. Plus, I would recognize the scent. You can’t fool my nose. A bear’s sense of smell is 2100 times better than a human’s. Seven times better than the best bloodhound. And I remember the smell that mingled with blood and death on my family. It wasn’t bear. It wasn’t human, either.
It wasn’t any kind of animal scent I recognize.
And maybe this is a lead, maybe it’s not, but I caught the scent of something similar in Tucson. Not the same—hell, it if had been the same, the guy would be dead. But there were a few guys at the Fight Club. They were shifters, but I couldn’t figure out what animal.