Berkshire University, New Hampshire
Eight years ago
After the recent rash of campus burglaries, the last thing Dane Fisher wanted was to be alone in this building late at night. But he was behind on his work, so he had little choice.
He hated working into the night. The university got spooky then. Its usual clamor of students in the halls rushing to class, trucks making deliveries to the cafeteria, all vanished in the evening. The only sounds left now were the hissing of the HVAC system blowing through the vents and the occasional weird creaks from the place settling. The building had been standing since 1879, and though Dane had worked here for two years cleaning artifacts, the place endlessly surprised him with its repertoire of eerie groans and strange middle-of-the-night noises. Sometimes he felt like it was alive, breathing around him.
His colleague Nora loved to work in the building at night. She swore that the quiet solitude helped her concentrate. But Dane felt the opposite, that the freaky sounds and stillness just made him hyperaware and alert, distracting him.
He listened to the AC kick on, felt the stirring from the vent above him, and returned his focus to his work. Before him lay an assortment of artifacts from a recent dig in the Scottish Highlands that Berkshire University had done in tandem with the University of Edinburgh. All manner of Celtic jewelry had been found, a treasure trove in a two-thousand-year-old grave. So far he’d cataloged and cleaned rings, cloak pins, and a chalice. But the stunning masterpiece was an intricate gold torque inlaid with garnet, amber, red coral, and other semiprecious stones, all accented by elaborate zoomorphic designs, whirls, and spirals the Celts were so famous for. The piece was stunning.
He shifted in his uncomfortable chair and pulled the work light closer to him, peering through its magnifying lens. It flickered, then went out. He reached over and jiggled its cord where it was plugged in, bringing it back to life. His department had next to no funding. Much of their equipment didn’t even work without some degree of jury-rigging.
He eyed the torque. If the university sold just this one piece to a private collector, his department would be able to upgrade all its equipment—its aging computers, its ancient spectrometer—and still have funding left over. He turned it in his gloved hands, admiring his handiwork, the removal of dust and grime of the ages, restoring the torque to its original glory.
He thought of his old 1990 Ford Bronco, the one that had broken down just two days ago, leaving him stranded halfway between the campus and his tiny apartment. Late for work, he’d had to leave the vehicle on the side of the road and order an Uber, something he couldn’t afford. But the professor he worked for brooked no tardiness or slacking, and his car’s breaking down would have definitely slotted him into the professor’s “slacker” category. Dane should have had it checked every 20,000 miles, the professor would have admonished him. Should have psychically known that it would break down and had the Uber waiting.
Hell, even Dane could use the money from the torque. He watched it gleaming in the light, the stones flashing.
Suddenly, before he’d even made the conscious decision to do it, he slipped it onto his neck. The gold felt heavy against his collarbones. He placed his fingers over it, temptation sweeping over him. He closed the collar of his button-down shirt, covering the torque completely. He could just walk out of here.
Tonight. With the torque. There’d been that rash of burglaries on the campus lately. Computers had been stolen, a stereo microscope taken from the zoology lab. Hell, they’d even made off with a 3-D printer. If a few artifacts disappeared, who would suspect he was the culprit? He’d worked in the lab for two years. Been a student in the department for six. He was well-liked. Trusted. He could jimmy the lock on the safe where they kept the most valuable pieces. Make people think that thieves had broken in. And of course they’d steal the torque. It was worth more than anything else.
He stood up. His heart hammering. Was he really going to do this? Could he get away with it? Where would he sell the torque? What did they always call those people in the crime shows he watched? Fences? Yes. He’d have to find a fence. Did he know any shady characters who might know a fence? He frowned. Maybe Donny from his undergrad days. That guy was always stealing little stuff and selling it to pawnshops. Sure, Donny might know a guy, but it would be someone who sold the occasional guitar or diamond ring—certainly no one who would be able to sell a priceless antiquity like this torque.
His nervous hands pulled his shirt tighter, fingers fastening the top button, making sure no one would be able to see the artifact. The lab had no cameras. He paused, his heart thumping. He hadn’t stolen anything since he was six and had pocketed some penny candy at the neighborhood market.
A shuffling noise in the hallway made him jump. It wasn’t the HVAC. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. He froze. They stopped outside the lab door. He debated ripping off the torque and replacing it. What if it was his boss? Maybe he’d forgotten something and had come back to pick it up. He glanced at the wall clock: 8:30 p.m.
The door handle moved. The person was coming in. No time to take off the torque. The door flew wide, and Dane’s mouth fell open. Framed there stood a man entirely in black, wearing a ski mask to hide his face. And gripped in his hand, unbelievably, was a small crossbow, aimed right at Dane.
The man pointed to the artifacts on the table and made a give them to me gesture.
Dane froze. His mouth went dry. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck. “Take ’em, man,” he finally said, his voice cracking. He raised both hands in a placating manner and backed away from the lab table. “No problem. Just take them.”
He continued to back up, moving toward the door on the other side of the lab.
The figure advanced, eyes fixed on the gold artifacts. Dane turned and ran, bracing himself for the feeling of a bolt tearing through
his back. But none came. He reached the door. Wrenched it open. Ran into the hallway.
His mind flew to the campus police. He could call them. But damn it, he’d left his phone on the lab table.
All the offices in the building were locked at this hour. Everyone had gone home for the weekend. No access to any phones.
Next door. The planetarium. His friend Jack ran the night show there. It would have gotten out at eight p.m. He might still be there. The building would be unlocked, and a phone sat on the admission desk.
He raced out of the archaeology building to the planetarium next door. Just as he reached it, Jack appeared, jingling a ring of keys and readying to lock up the building for the night.
“Jack!” Dane cried. “Wait!”
But even then he heard the door to the archaeology wing bang open behind him. Dane glanced over his shoulder, seeing the masked man dash through the door, fast in pursuit, the crossbow raised.
“Call the campus police!” Dane shouted to his friend. Jack ripped open the planetarium door, holding it for Dane, who ducked inside. They started to pull it closed behind them, but the thing was on hydraulics and hissed closed slowly, not fast enough. The masked man reached them and Jack dashed to the desk as the thief snaked his arm in through the door and forced himself inside the planetarium.
Jack had just lifted the receiver off the phone when the man fired the crossbow. A bolt shot out and pierced Jack through the neck. Dane watched in horror as his friend pitched backward and crashed to the floor, blood spurting from his neck wound. Dane reached him and clamped a hand on the gushing artery, then stripped off his shirt and wadded it up, pressing it to the wound. But in just a few seconds, his friend’s eyes glassed over and he breathed one final gasp.
The masked man advanced. Dane reluctantly let go of his dead friend and raced for the set of double doors on the other side of the room. He slammed into the exit bars and tore outside, the masked man close behind.
While most of the buildings were deserted for the night and no one milled around the walkways, at the edge of campus, a football game was in full swing. Crowds. Campus police. He just had to reach it.
Up ahead, he could see the stadium lights, nighthawks circling in the glare, catching bugs attracted by the glow. The crowd cheered and he heard an airhorn go off. He was close to safety now.
Something hissed in the air and pinged off a metal lamppost beside him, and Dane watched as a bolt ricocheted and clattered to the ground
He dared a glance back over his shoulder, saw the man pausing to load another bolt into the weapon.
Dane ran on. He was only a thousand yards or so from the stadium. From here he could see the distant security guards at the gate. “Hey!” he yelled, but they couldn’t hear him over the chanting crowd.
The killer was close now, running again at full speed, closing in. “Where is the torque?” he heard the man shout. “That’s all I want.”
The torque! In his terror, he’d completely forgotten he was wearing it. Of course that’s what the man wanted. It was probably worth tens of thousands of dollars. And he knew now that this man would kill to take it. But maybe he’d spare Dane. He hadn’t seen the man’s face. He’d probably just killed Jack because he’d been about to alert the cops.
Still running, Dane tugged at the torque, unclasping it from his neck. Then he tossed it behind him.
He heard the man stumble and glanced back to see him catch it before it hit the cement of the sidewalk.
Dane raced on. He was much closer to the security guards now, saw them chatting and shifting their weight by the admission gate of the stadium. “Hey!” he yelled again, but just as the word blended in with the shouting of the football attendees, he felt something sharp slam into his back. A stabbing pain erupted in his chest. He brought his hand up to his rib cage, feeling something sharp poking through there. A bolt. It had gone all the way through him. Warm stickiness flowed over his fingers. He gasped for a breath and went down on one knee. His vision tunneled as he struggled to breathe; then a wave of dizziness swept over him. He slumped down on the walkway, just two hundred yards from the stadium gates, and darkness overtook him.
Los Angeles, California
Present day
Alex Carter swayed to the music, feeling the rhythm through her body. Beside her, her best friend, Zoe Lindquist, moved effortlessly, gracefully flowing with the pulse of the song. The dark purple and blue lights of the dance club flashed, a white beam strobing with the throb of the electronic dance beat. Alex felt the tension go out of her body and Zoe met her gaze and grinned.
“This place is great!” her friend shouted above the music.
Alex nodded. She had to admit it was pretty fun. She hadn’t been dancing like this since her grad school days when she lived in San Francisco. It felt good just to move, to simply hear the rhythm and melody and become one with the music without a million thoughts racing through her head.
They danced to a few more songs and Alex could feel the crush of more people packing in by the minute. She gestured over to the bar and Zoe left the dance floor with her. They sidled up to the counter, and immediately the burly bartender shot over to Zoe and took their drink order. Alex wasn’t surprised. Zoe was a successful A-lister, an actor who’d been starring in films for years. She was extremely attractive, and on top of that, exceedingly nice and tipped well. It was a dynamite combination, and wherever they went, they always got excellent service.
“Are you having fun?” Zoe shouted above the music. Her long blond hair fell in artful waves around her face, her makeup perfectly applied to accentuate her green eyes. Alex felt a little out of place. She never styled her wavy brown hair, and she wore only a hint of eye shadow and a slinky purple shirt and slim black jeans that Zoe had picked out for her on Rodeo Drive. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn a dress.
Alex nodded. “I am!”
The bass thumped through the club, and for a moment Alex peered out at the crowd, people there to see and be seen, to hook up, to flirt, to schmooze. Zoe wasn’t the only A-lister Alex spotted while glancing around. It was a well-known and exclusive club, a place Alex wouldn’t have a chance of getting into if she hadn’t been with Zoe. Her friend thrived on this kind of scene, and Alex loved seeing her happy.
Zoe had insisted Alex come down for a couple of months for a visit after her last field study in Washington State. She’d put Alex up in a lavish guest bedroom in her nineteen-room mansion, and for weeks now they’d been clubbing, eating in three-star Michelin restaurants, shopping, attending lavish parties and concerts. They hadn’t spent a single night in. After months and months of being in the wilderness, mostly alone, it was like getting all her urban activity in at one time.
She felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket and pulled it out. She grinned. It was Ben Hathaway, the regional director of the Land Trust for Wildlife Conservation, a nonprofit organization she’d done a couple of jobs for in the past.
She swiped to answer the call, but soon found she couldn’t hear him at all. “Just a sec,” she said into the phone. Then she turned to Zoe. “It’s Ben. I have to take this.”
“Cute Ben?”
Alex shook her head amusedly, though she had to admit she agreed with Zoe. He was cute.
“Take your time,” Zoe said suggestively.
Alex ducked outside, dodging people as they jockeyed for position at the velvet rope that held them off from the club. The implacable bouncer eyed her as she left, and Alex said, “I’ll be right back.”
He answered with pursed lips and a stern look that said, We’ll see if I let you in then.
Halfway down the street, it grew a little quieter and she could finally hear Ben.
“Sorry about that,” she told him.
“Am I imagining things or were you in a club?” he asked.
“I was.”
“What? Alex Carter in a dance club?” He laughed.
“I’m in L.A. visiting my college friend.”
“Sounds like fun!”
“It really has been.”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” Ben told her.
She felt a flush of pleasure. “And good to hear yours.”
“Listen, I’ve got a job for you if you’re interested.”
“I’m all ears.”
“We’ve got a large sanctuary in New Mexico, near the Gila National Forest. We think it’s got some prime jaguar habitat.”
“Jaguars . . . wow.” She knew they were incredibly endangered in the United States.
“Recently the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service designated critical habitat for them, but it’s not a lot of land, and we think if we can show that they’re using our sanctuary, we can petition the government to expand that critical habitat.”
“And didn’t the Center for Biological Diversity just submit a petition to Fish and Wildlife to reintroduce the jaguar into its former habitat in that area of New Mexico?”
“Yes, they did.”
She pressed the phone to her ear, wincing as a car raced by and honked. A drunk patron from the club stumbled out into the street, almost getting hit.
“We’d like you to do a species presence survey,” Ben continued. “Put out cameras and hair snares, and if possible, collar a jaguar if you find one. We’ve already secured all the necessary permits.”
“When would I start?”
“As soon as possible. I can meet you there in three days, if you like. Take you around, show you your digs, bring up the equipment you’d need. We can get you a flight to Albuquerque. It’s the nearest big airport to the preserve. Are you interested?”
A huge grin spread across her face. “Absolutely.”
“Think you could make that time frame?”
“Sure thing.”
“This is great!” he said, and she could hear the happiness in his voice. “And this time I’ll actually have some time to show you around. It won’t be like before.”
“Fantastic.” She could already imagine them out there together, exploring the terrain.
For the other two gigs she’d done for the LTWC, one in Montana locating wolverines and one in Washington state looking for a lone mountain caribou, Ben had been able to spend only a few hours at the sanctuaries with her. Based in D.C., he was incredibly
busy and had to travel extensively for the organization. She knew that he loved being in the field more than handling the administrative work, and imagined he was excited to spend some time out in the wild.
“I’ve got to warn you, though,” he added. “The digs are pretty minimal.”
Alex had spent many field seasons in a small backcountry tent, so the lavishness or sparsity of lodgings didn’t affect her much. “No problem.”
“Great! I’ll have our travel planner contact you and work out the details of your flight. We’ll arrange for you to rent a four-wheel-drive car. You’ll need it up there. A lot of bumpy dirt roads.”
“Thanks for the opportunity,” she told him.
“My pleasure. And it’ll be great to see you again.”
Alex felt a warm sensation in her stomach at his words. She didn’t want to complicate her working relationship with the LTWC, but she had to admit that she enjoyed spending time with Ben, a kindred spirit. Not a lot of people shared her love of remote places.
“See you soon, Alex,” he told her.
She smiled. “Looking forward to it.”
She hung up and returned to the bouncer, who narrowed his eyes as she approached. But he relented and unclipped the velvet rope so she could go inside.
“Hey!” cried a man who’d been waiting beside the rope. “How come she gets to go in?”
“Connections,” the bouncer said, towering over the man.
Inside, she spotted Zoe still at the bar. “So what’s up?” her friend asked her.
“Got a gig.”
“Let me guess. Finding a lost Sumatran rhino in the jungles of Peru.”
“That rhino’s a long way from home.”
“That’s why he’s lost.”
Alex laughed. “He wants me to see if jaguars are using a preserve the land trust has in New Mexico.”
“Jaguars?” Zoe raised her eyebrows. “I thought they only lived in the jungles of South America.”
“They do live there. But they also live in Central America, and we’ve got a few here in the U.S. There used to be a lot more of them, but now they’re critically endangered.”
“Let me guess,” Zoe said, frowning. “The fur industry decimated them.”
“It certainly didn’t help.”
“And you think you can find them?”
“I hope to.”
Zoe screwed up her face. “But aren’t you afraid one might attack you while you’re out there?”
“No. Jaguar attacks are ridiculously rare. They’d rather get the hell out of there if they see a human. In fact, the only fatal attacks I’m aware of happened at zoos. Jaguars have an unfair reputation, just like grizzlies and wolves.”
“So when would you
leave?”
“He wants to meet there in three days.” Alex saw Zoe’s face fall a little and instantly felt bad. “But I’ve had so much fun with you here,” she assured her friend.
“I thought maybe you’d fall in love with the urban life and move closer to me. You know, get some cool place in L.A. where we would hang out.” Zoe gazed around the dance floor. “You’d be amazed at how hard it is to find genuine people you can trust here.”
Alex could imagine it and had seen it in action, with people cozying up to Zoe, hoping to get something out of her—an introduction to a director or an in to an exclusive Hollywood party—without any real interest in knowing her.
“I’d love to come back,” Alex said. “If you’ll have me.”
Zoe brightened. “Absolutely. And you’re right. This has been so much fun. It’s just my own rotten luck that my closest friend would rather be out in the middle of the sticks gathering samples of reindeer poop than hanging out here in all this luxury with me.”
“And let’s not forget that my closest friend would rather go to fancy clubs and dance and eat gourmet food than be out in the sticks helping me collect said poop.”
Zoe grinned and they hugged. “Well, we still have a little bit of time to live it up.” She lifted her drink and handed another to Alex.
Alex clinked her glass. “Cheers to that.”
“To our friendship,” Zoe added. They drank a few sips, and then Zoe put down her glass. “Let’s dance!” And she pulled Alex back out onto the dance floor.
Alex moved to the music, but already her mind was a thousand miles away, imagining a return to the wild, where she felt the most at home. ...
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