I actually had noticed. So why was she bothering to learn to bake?
“If you think Zane is a killer, you’ve got him all wrong. The guy live traps mice in our yurt and releases them in the woods.”
“You’d prefer more extreme measures, I take it?”
“I believe every creature has a right to live, but that doesn’t mean I want to die from the hantavirus. He won’t even allow me to have a horse because he says we don’t have the right to imprison another creature.”
A gust of wind rattled the birch branches. I thought I tasted snow on the air.
The Subaru was blocking the patrol truck from driving up the hill. “How about we continue our talk back at your place?”
“I need to get to town before the bank closes. Can’t you just say what’s on your mind?”
“I believe Zane lied to me about when and where he saw the wolf.”
“He was probably blazed.”
“I didn’t have that sense.”
“I mean when he saw the wolf. Give him a fatty and he’ll tell you it’s Thursday when it’s Sunday.”
I glanced at the hillside behind her where the birches were swaying in the gusting wind. “This isn’t my home territory, but I think I have a decent sense of direction. That’s Number Six Mountain behind you.”
“So?”
“Mary’s house couldn’t be more than two miles straight up, as the raven flies.”
“A mile and a half. Zane cleared a trail last fall for his ‘commute’ when the weather improves. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re still playing games. What is the exact crime you are investigating and what role do you think Zane and I had in committing it?”
“Finding out who shot the black wolf isn’t my primary interest. I’m trying to find out what happened to the gray one.”
I had spoken with more passion than I’d intended, and Indigo had heard the change in my voice.
“Why?”
“I’d like to save her life if I can.”
It had taken saying those words aloud for me to understand my own motivations. Whatever I had once believed about wild wolves coexisting with humans in Maine, seeing Shadow shaved and anesthetized on that cold table had convinced me otherwise. Too many people with guns and bows would fear them, resent them, and want their pelts as trophies.
“You said ‘her.’ How do you know the second one’s a female?”
She was a sharp one, this Indigo Mazur. Baked or not.
“Zane has my card. Remind him to call if he remembers anything that might help me save the other wolf.”
22
We drove in silence for five solid minutes. Then Ronette said, “So what are you thinking? That if you find the other wolf alive, you’ll be able to trap her somehow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mike, this is my district. I like to think I know these mountains better than anyone. The chances of locating a single canine on the move…”
I turned my face to the window. “The chances are slim. I get that.”
“Can I make an observation?”
“Why not?”
“It’s obvious how personal this is for you. Even Indigo saw it. But none of what is going to happen—either with Shadow or this other animal—is in your control.”
“You sound like Gary Pulsifer.”
Now it was her turn to bristle. “I’ve never been accused of that before!”
“His new mantra is ‘Let it go.’”
“That seems like good advice.”
I was tired and, despite knowing that Ronette had only the best of intentions, was in no mood to be psychoanalyzed. “I’m going to come back here in the morning with some supplies.”
We drove along in silence.
“It’s a hell of a way to spend your vacation. I can’t think of a worse month to tramp around in the woods here. What isn’t frozen solid is a quagmire.”
“Can you recommend a clean, cheap motel?”
Ronette was done asking me what I hoped to accomplish with this mad mission of mine. Now she looked at me in mock surprise. “You want clean and cheap?”
“Cheap then.”
“There’s nothing much open this time of year between Farmington and Rangeley. I can recommend a nice bed-and-breakfast over in Strong, though.”
“I’m not sure a B and B suits me. I expect to be keeping odd hours. And I might be returning to the room pretty dirty, as you noted.”
She eased up on the gas. “How do you feel about rustic accommodations?”
“Rustic I can deal with. I’ll take a drafty lean-to over a sleazy motel any day of the week.”
“Then have I got a place for you.”
She refused to tell me where we were going. Back in downtown Avon, she dropped me at my Jeep and told me to follow her. As soon as she took the second turn off an already-dodgy road, I began to worry. To call this overgrown trail of mud, potholes, and fist-size rocks “unimproved” would be to oversell its condition. With the trees pressing in so closely, I couldn’t imagine how we could possibly turn around if we reached a deadfall or other unforeseen obstacle.
I had to laugh in amazement when Ronette’s brake lights came on and stayed on as she put the truck into park. An actual steel gate was up ahead, as if the dirt track itself weren’t enough of an impediment to entry. From the warmth of my Jeep, I watched her get out with a ring of keys that would have made a high school janitor feel inadequate. It took her a minute to find the one she wanted and another to heave the metal gate open on its rusted axis.
She idled her pickup through the entrance, and I followed, leaving the gate ajar behind me.
Deep in the woods, higher up, and in the near-constant shadows of the mountains, a hard pack of frozen, melted, and refrozen snow remained on the ground. It provided better purchase for my tires than the ice had. The road bore the tread marks of snowmobiles and ATVs, which entered where a designated sled trail crossed. The weight of those vehicles had further tamped down the snow.
After
