Reaching For Normal Read online

  Nodding was easier than speaking, so she went with that and kept moving. She tried to pick up speed but her knee wobbled.

  “Relax. We’re making good time.” The man noticed every last thing.

  At the sight of the benches, Myla would have cheered if she’d had the energy. She pushed through the last couple of strides and collapsed on the closest one, then slumped forward to take in deep breaths. She didn’t even have the energy to take the poles out of her hands. Time to add a cardio routine to her morning workouts.

  Myla jerked when her foot was lifted into the air. Sawyer squatted at her feet and was removing her ski and the ski shoe. Of her left foot. He’d seen the support before but now he had a hand wrapped around her lower leg. There was no way he could miss her withered calf. She tried to yank it free but he squeezed her leg more tightly to keep it in place.

  Without a sneer of disgust or any reaction at all, he slid her foot into her normal boot and did the same with the other foot. He grabbed the skis and poles, then bundled them into the trailer behind the snowmachine. “Come on, I’d like to head back as quickly as we can.”

  She nodded and shoved off the bench. This time, she didn’t let herself think about it, she simply used Sawyer’s shoulders to ease down on the machine and then slid her arms around him.

  Sawyer wasted no time zipping across the lake. As soon as they arrived at the shed, he shut down the machine and started talking as he rose and helped her off. “Change of plans. I want to get back there immediately. I need you to contact Dave Belanger. He’s the police chief and a friend. Tell him what we’ve seen and ask him to call the others. He’ll know what that means.”

  As he spoke, he unhooked the trailer, then moved inside the shed and started filling a larger pack with gear. He rattled off instructions, including directions and phone number for the chief, then stopped to stare at her. “Do you want to write any of that down?”

  She raised an eyebrow at his tone but he didn’t even blink at her. “No.” When he continued to stare, she pulled up the voice recorder on her phone and repeated his instructions verbatim.

  He nodded then powered up one of the big doors and tossed the bag in the back of another trailer attached to another machine. “Why don’t you take the one we used?”

  “Full tank in this one. Plus it’s faster, more maneuverable.”

  “I could go with you. I could help.”

  Sawyer shook his head, fired up the machine, and backed it out into the driveway. When he moved to the first sled, Myla realized he was going to unpack it. She grabbed his arm. “I could help. You need someone to watch your back.”

  He snorted at that. “You have some sniper skills I don’t know about?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Sawyer shook his head. “It might not be safe out there, I’ll be better off on my own.”

  Well, that was insulting. “I can be an extra set of eyes. If there’s a crazy guy out there, you shouldn’t be alone.” When he ignored her, she pressed on. “There must be something I can do to help.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t know what I’m going to find but there’s a good chance it’s going to be dangerous. I don’t need you out there. I don’t want you out there. You’d be a liability. I’ll be safer on my own.” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I need you to call Dave and get me some backup. That’s the best way you can help me. Have him follow the directions and meet up with me before nightfall.”

  His words cut deep but years of practice made holding back the tears doable. Not easy but doable. Liability. She’d been called a lot of nasty things over the years but that had to rank at the bottom of the list.

  Retreating was the only option, so she backed away. “Fine, go play with the psycho man on your own. I’ll put the other things away and lock up your shed. Try not to get killed.”

  Sawyer started to speak but she waved away his words and turned to grab the skis. When she came out of the shed to unload the rest, he held up a set of keys. She snagged them out of his hands and went back to her task, shoving away his hand when he tried to tug on her arm.

  “Myla, look...”

  “I thought you were in a hurry? Just go, Sawyer.”

  He tried again but she pulled out the poles and swung them in his direction, making him jump back. Unable to stop the smirk, she refused to make eye contact. “Go.” Her voice was too loud, too emotional but it did the trick.

  Relief filled her when she walked into the shed and he didn’t follow her. Instead, she heard the snowmachine fire up and leave.

  She gave herself a few moments to pull her emotions back into control before she finished unloading the shed and locked up the deadbolt on the door. She thought about moving the other snowmachine into the garage but decided it was more important to call in the police.

  Liability.

  Bitch.

  Liar.

  Weariness zapped her energy but she climbed into Freddy and turned him back toward civilization. Ten minutes later, she pulled to a stop and checked her cell phone. One bar.

  When she explained to the person who answered she had an important message for the chief from Sawyer Banks, she was told he was out. “There’s been a massive accident out on the highway. Every available officer from the nearby towns is out there.”

  Myla explained the situation and that Sawyer had headed out alone to catch a killer.

  “I’m sorry, miss. No one will be able to get out there tonight. Let him know I’ll put the call out to the rangers. I’m sure someone will be able to head out early tomorrow. Ask him to wait or let him know he’s on his own until then.”

  Myla hung up the phone and looked at the snow.

  What was she supposed to do now?

  The keys sitting on her passenger seat taunted her.

  Liability.

  Myla banged the heel of her hand on the steering wheel, then sighed and carefully turned Freddy around. If luck was on her side, Sawyer would have returned for something. Not that luck had been on her side lately but a girl could hope.

  Apparently, luck was still spurning her, because nothing had changed when she returned to the shed. Time to choose. She could stop being a wimp and drive out to find him. She knew where he was going and she’d watched him drive the sled. While she’d never done it before, it hadn’t appeared much different from motorcycles or ATVs.

  It was still light out, would be for another few hours. She could drive across the lake, find Sawyer, let him know he was on his own, then head back.

  Or, she could head back to the B&B. Let the police station know he was out of cell phone reach and leave it in their capable hands.

  Knowing she’d never forgive herself for being a coward if she turned away and then something happened to the big jerk, Myla got out of the car and unlocked the shed.

  She followed Sawyer’s example and grabbed a packsack. Finding it already packed with some necessities, she added snowshoes, a flashlight, and some food. She didn’t bother with a tent. Staying outside in the bush in the middle of winter with a guy running around mutilating wolves wasn’t on her bucket list.

  After locking the shed, she zipped the keys into a pocket, except for the keys to the snowmachine.

  For long moments, Myla stood beside the snowmachine and debated with herself. Going after Sawyer meant putting herself at risk, stealing a machine, and possibly becoming the liability he’d accused her of being.

  If she didn’t go, Sawyer wouldn’t know he was alone until morning. If she went, he could return with her and head out in the morning with what he considered real backup.

  In reality, she knew his words were true. She knew nothing about tracking or winter or people crazy enough to ravage a wolf and hang it up in a tree. But, his words still cut her deeply. He wouldn’t welcome her presence. But, he needed to know.

  Myla used the handles to support her as she lowered to sit on the bench seat of the machine. She studied the controls and decided if she couldn’
t figure it out and drive it properly, it would be a sign she needed to head into town and get someone else to follow Sawyer.

  When the engine fired easily, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or annoyed. By the time she reached the lake, she knew she could control the machine. Gunning the engine sent a thrill through her and she grinned as the freedom she’d felt on the earlier ride returned two-fold.

  Following Sawyer’s trail across the lake would have been impossible if she hadn’t been watching the shoreline on the first trip. The observational skills she’d worked hard to develop were going to help her. They could probably help Sawyer too if he’d let her.

  She slowed as she neared the shore and was thrilled when it only took a few minutes to locate the path Sawyer had taken off the lake.

  The day had been cold and clear, so the trail hadn’t been obliterated by any wind, making her search a whole lot easier. Nerves raced through her as she moved the machine through the trees at a much slower pace than she’d crossed the ice.

  The wolf killer could be lurking behind any of the trees, waiting for his next victim. He could be tracking her and she could be taking him right to Sawyer.

  Well, if he wasn’t an idiot, he could follow the trail Sawyer had created. He wouldn’t need her at all.

  Breathe. Relax.

  She’d deliver her message and be back at the B&B in less than an hour. Sawyer would be sensible and return to his home and wait for backup.

  High hopes.

  She was good with words, she could be persuasive.

  Staying out in the forest with a psycho wolf-killer would be stupid. Sawyer might be a lot of things, brutally honest for one but he wasn’t stupid.

  Her grip on the handles loosened when she spotted the benches where’d they put on their skis earlier. No sign of the other snowmachine. Or Sawyer. Not even the dogs. She hoped they’d found one another. They’d be safer together.

  Myla pulled the machine to a stop and the abrupt silence had her nerves spiking. Without getting off, she searched in each direction for anything out of place. When she heard her breath hitch, she huffed out a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

  No one was hunting her. The wolf might have been there for days or weeks. She had no reason to be scared.

  But, she was.

  It didn’t take long to find the trail Sawyer had taken out of the clearing, so she fired up the machine and followed, feeling better once she was moving. The path didn’t follow the ski trail as she’d expected but seemed to follow in roughly the same direction. A long fifteen minutes later, she spotted the green metal of Sawyer’s snowmachine beside some pines and found herself grinning in relief. Mission almost accomplished.

  Myla pulled her snowmachine up beside Sawyer’s and turned off the engine. More silence greeted her. No shouts of welcome from the forest. No barking of the dogs.

  Nerves crept back in and she kept her eyes moving, searching for danger.

  When Sawyer hadn’t shown up after a few minutes of waiting, Myla wanted to turn around and flee, exactly as he would have expected.

  City girl.

  Liability.

  No. Instead of being any of those things, she decided to follow the clear-as-day snowshoe trail. He couldn’t be too far. She’d act like a grownup, deliver her message and get the heck out of Oz.

  Once she had on the snowshoes, she tightened her backpack on her shoulders and followed the trail. She’d be sensible. If she hadn’t found him in an hour, she’d turn around and follow her tracks back to the snowmachine and go back to Plan B. Maybe one of the police officers would be available by then.

  Her leg ached but she pushed the annoyance to the side. She could soak in the tub when she got back. With a large glass of wine. Or two.

  After she’d delivered her message.

  Clumsy Girl To The Rescue.

  SAWYER used every curse word he’d ever learned and from his years in the teams, he’d learned a lot. In several languages. Even with all of that, it wasn’t enough to express his rage at the scene in front of him.

  His stomach churned and his brain kept flashing images of the mutilated bodies in Afghanistan to overlay the reality in the clearing.

  Both senseless massacres. Innocents being slaughtered.

  Years of practice left him able to function through the rage and despair trying to crawl up his throat. Brutality shouldn’t surprise him, not anymore but it did.

  A deer had been slaughtered and left as bait for the wolf. The asshole had made a blind for himself in a tree at the edge of the clearing.

  Baited and waited.

  It made Sawyer sick.

  This wasn’t a hunter. This was a sick bastard killing two creatures in order to make some weird protest against reintegrating the wolves. It didn’t make sense which meant two things. First, the guy was new to this kind of thing. Second, if he was aiming for attention, he might not be done.

  Sawyer used his phone to take some pictures. Too bad he didn’t have Myla’s camera. It had looked to be a quality one and he wanted to capture every aspect of the scene for Dave and the others before the snow covered it up even more.

  The clearing was about twelve yards in diameter. Opposite the blind, there was a hollow, indicating there might have been a tent pitched. No fire pit, which is something the wolves would have avoided.

  Sawyer walked through the trees around the clearing several times, each time a little farther out, searching for any kind of clue or evidence. The light snowfall from the previous days had wiped out any tracks he could see. Gage LaChance would probably be able to find some. He should have given Myla his contact information as well. Gage could track a mosquito in a blizzard.

  If the man had used the clearing often, there would have been indications of a path but Sawyer couldn’t see any. The kill seemed pointless to him but it wasn’t to the killer.

  Sawyer wondered if the point of the killing was to get his attention. After he and Myla had started skiing again, the trail had looped closer to the dead wolf twice. Myla had been concentrating so hard on skiing quickly she hadn’t noticed and he hadn’t pointed it out.

  He was the only person pretty much guaranteed to see the slaughter. Locals accessed the trails he kept groomed. Many left him maple syrup or baked goods as thanks but no one kept a regular schedule except him.

  Once he was back in town, he’d make some phone calls, find out if anyone had seen anything helpful. Although Sawyer didn’t interact much with people, Darby would know who used the trails.

  Frustrated with finding nothing useful, Sawyer studied the area near the blind. The blind itself had been torn down but the platform to help the guy stay in the tree had been left behind. A simple sheet of plywood. It took only a few minutes to climb the tree and find that there was nothing to be seen.

  The guy might be a bastard of epic proportions but he was smart enough to remove personal traces and clues.

  Sawyer finally faced the toughest two parts of the clearing. He kept clicking with his phone. Looking at the images through the lens made it less real somehow. He took dozens of pictures from all angles, then decided it was time to look. Really look.

  The wolf had been killed then hacked to pieces beside the tree holding the blind. Entrails and mutilated bits of wolf had been covered by the snow but the wind had cleared enough for Sawyer to identify exactly what lay under it.

  His snow gear might be tailored to temperatures of thirty below but he was cold on the inside.

  Turning his attention to the hide, he found it had been strung up with bungee cords. The metal hooks pierced the hide and wrapped around the tree trunks and branches. Messy as hell.

  And effective.

  The hide was a disaster. The jackass had never skinned an animal before. More proof he wasn’t a hunter and was doing this for some point Sawyer couldn’t see or understand.

  The cold temps had slowed the rotting process but it was obvious the kill hadn’t been done that day. Probably not the previous day either. W
hen?

  And, more importantly, why?

  Retreating to the edge of the clearing, Sawyer started the process again. He looked at the scene from several angles but each time, he came to the conclusion that the best vantage point to see the display was his ski trail. No other trails in the area. No camps. This area of the lake was almost inaccessible in the summer because of the many bluffs and rocky outcroppings. No boats could dock and the shore itself was terrible for building.

  Lots of people camped in the winter but this was the middle of Vermont wilderness. Someone could go for weeks without being seen by anyone else. Whole battalions could march through the territory.

  Frustration had Sawyer wanting to hit something. Or someone.

  And almost had him missing the sound of someone approaching.

  Sawyer melted into SEAL mode, simultaneously moving into the trees and drawing one of his guns. His heartbeat lowered, his body relaxed into readiness. The odds of the person approaching being anyone except the wolf killer had to be astronomically low.

  Dave wouldn’t have had time to gather his gear and speed across the lake after Myla’s call. Only one other person knew about this spot. The person he wanted to take down. Hard.

  The swish of his clothing neared and Sawyer breathed out his tension, readied his trigger finger, and stretched out his senses.

  And heard the hesitation in some steps. Every second step.

  Shit.

  The odds zoomed down from astronomical to even money. Sawyer’s finger hovered over the safety as he waited.

  Moments later, a red coat appeared through the trees. He holstered his gun and checked the surrounding area. His senses told him Myla wasn’t being followed but he hadn’t been able to rely on them for over two years.

  Myla barely looked up from the tracks. The wind had picked up and snow swirled in every direction. In another hour, the trail would be impossible to find.

  As she approached, he realized Myla was muttering much as she’d done earlier. Telling her leg and foot to suck it up. Reminding herself she could follow the trail back. Wondering if she was crazy.