Death Canyon (9 page)

In an urban area, this often meant the victims were all members of a certain gang, drug cartel, or crime family. As far as Jake knew, these types of groups were all but nonexistent in the valley. Besides, he knew that at least one victim was a European tourist and the river victim hadn't yet been reported missing.

Two of the victims were not even from the area.

But then the local skier? The pattern doesn't hold.

He shook his head and continued to tie; he was probably getting ahead of himself.

Still, Jake was intrigued by the possibility that these deaths were well-disguised crimes. Three in two days seemed too unlikely.

Jake finished one final fly and put it in its bin. He didn't finish the dozen flies that he'd set as a goal, but he was exhausted from his camping trip and his mind was wandering to places that were both silly and dangerous.

He walked up the creaky, cold wooden stairs to his loft bedroom.

As he lay in bed trying to calm his mind, he remembered that he had to present an argument in opposition to the development program that had been recently proposed for Jackson Hole.

Shit!
He'd intended to work on it tonight.

As one of two attorneys involved with the town council, he was often asked to speak when the council was faced with thorny legal matters. He didn't mind. This time, he felt strongly about the issue and looked forward to preparing his argument tomorrow.

The developer, Parrana and Sons, was a conglomerate operating out of Idaho Falls. In an unexpected move, they had recently purchased the Willow Ranch south of town for $100 million. The proposed Old Teton Dairy Ranch. They were now disputing the legitimacy of a conservation easement on the property so they could develop the land.

Conservation easements were a popular legal mechanism in the area. They lasted perpetually and placed restrictions on the future use of the land. In this case, a valid conservation easement would have effectively prohibited the developer from building the condominiums it desired.

The original owner's son, now ninety-two and living at
his
son's house in Richmond, Virginia, attested by phone to Jake that his father had in fact recorded the easement some eighty years ago. He had no paper records.

All the owners since the original owner had believed the easement was valid, too. But Teton County was still in the process of filing its land records in a computer database, and this old record had no backup. The easement had no concrete documentation. Nobody knew whether the easement had once been filed and then lost, or was never properly filed to begin with. Nobody knew anything.

The developer, predicting a hostile response from the town, decided to offer to resolve the dispute by paying an extra sum of money, to be used for conservation efforts, to the township. The
township was considering whether they should accept what, to Jake, sounded a lot like a bribe.

Unfortunately, it looked like the money had charmed the majority of the council. But there was one last step: pursuant to the town's bylaws, there would have to be an opportunity for proponents from each side to present their arguments at a public hearing. Jake had been asked to present the opposition's opinion on the matter.

It was now completely dark outside Jake's bedroom window. After reviewing the facts in his head, he was no longer particularly anxious about the speech. His mind finally and subconsciously decided to take its rest.

Then Jake's eyes flashed open. He stared up at the ceiling and said aloud: “Shit, I'm going to get arrested tomorrow.” He threw his head back into the pillow.

Maybe not arrested, but certainly questioned.
“Shit!” he said aloud again. Once the police had a chance to think about it, they were going to be very interested in the fact that Jake had gone on an overnight float trip alone, with no witnesses, and returned with a dead man's body.

Noelle was rolling the smooth bear tooth around in the palm of her hand. She'd been planning to drop the tooth off with Nat Passa after her patrol, but by the time she got back to the trailhead, the gate to the parking area was closed and locked.

They must be finished,
she surmised.

Instead of driving into town to hand the tooth over to the police, she stopped at the Jenny Lake Lodge and, while chatting with an old friend, dropped the tooth into a hotel key card envelope and taped the flap.

I'll get it to Terrell or the bear team tomorrow.

She'd left the envelope in the truck, but that evening Noelle had the urge to retrieve it. At the kitchen table, she pulled the tooth from its envelope and held it a few inches from her eyes, studying.

It was unusual that the tooth remained whole.
Should it have
broken off at the gum line?
Perhaps, but here it was, with its sharp, undamaged point and full roots.

Noelle corrected herself and laughed.
When you are investigating a bear attack in your free time, you need a hobby.

She had an adventurous soul, though. These were the same feelings that had driven her to move to Jackson and pursue excitement via extreme sports and mountaineering. In a strange way, the current excitement was reawakening her.

Recently, Noelle had noticed that the high she once felt from these endeavors was waning. She knew she shouldn't get more involved in the bear mauling case than she already was, but she yearned for the exhilaration.

Then again, her intentions were pure. Her secret investigation wasn't hurting anyone.
Except maybe for me,
she thought. She pictured herself solving some unlikely crime—having the time of her life and being lauded as a hero. She opened her computer and double-clicked on the desktop icon for her email.

There were no new messages in her in-box. Suddenly she recalled a thought from the previous night. Noelle had an old flame—a bear expert at Montana State University. Noelle had broken off their relations suddenly and without explanation, but this seemed like a fine opportunity to get back in touch. She started drafting an email.

Keith Strang had initially pursued a PhD in fish and wildlife biology at MSU. After beginning his studies, though, he became increasingly passionate about the conservation of predatory mammals, namely bears, wolves, and mountain lions. Keith's passion wasn't fueled by a specific affection for predators themselves, but he felt that those animals that humans considered to be dangerous needed the most protection.

It was easy, Keith believed, to gain a sympathetic public opinion
toward a colorful tree frog or the majestic and nationally endorsed bald eagle. Protecting animals that competed with us at the top of the food chain, on the other hand, ran counter to our instincts. It was for this very reason—the challenge of the task—that Keith decided to forgo the pursuit of his degree and work full-time as a wildlife field researcher specializing in grizzly and black bears.

His primary mission these days was to debunk the myth that certain bears became “killer” bears after they attacked once and therefore should be exterminated. Instead, Keith believed that repeat attacks could be attributed to the simple fact that certain bears inhabited areas where human interaction was more likely.

To Keith, a dangerous bear—even a repeat offender—should always be relocated. There was no reason that Keith could think of that a bear should ever be killed, and his research aimed to prove that notion.

Noelle wanted to know what Keith thought of yesterday's attack—especially the tooth. He would at least be able to tell her what species the culprit was, she figured. Maybe more. She started typing.

Dear Keith,

Hello from Jackson Hole! I hope you're well!

My apologies for the short notice, but if it is okay with you, I was thinking about stopping by tomorrow sometime. As I am sure you know, there was a bear attack down here in the Tetons. I found a tooth at the scene of the attack and I was wondering if you could take a look at it.

Thanks! I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!

Warmly,

Noelle

P.S.—Don't tell anyone about this until we talk more!

Noelle left her computer open for a few minutes just in case Keith happened to be in his lab late.

Was that too flirty?

She wasn't surprised when her in-box chimed a minute later. Keith was still up.

Hey Stranger,

I'll be here. Excited to see what you bring in for me!

Peace!

Keith

The email seemed a bit short, but at least he agreed to see her. She wouldn't have blamed him if he didn't respond at all.

Noelle smiled. Keith knew her quirks as well as anyone. He knew about her love for adventure ever since she had asked for his help in herding two dozen bison back into Yellowstone to protect them from hunters. That was their first date, if rounding up bison could be called a date. Under the moonlight on horseback and without the park's permission, they got all twenty-four back into their safe haven.

Tomorrow would be just like old times.

Noelle ignored the question:
Do I want old times?

With Keith's help she could learn something from the tooth. Plus, Noelle could drive to Bozeman through Yellowstone National Park, something that she always cherished. In early summer, the park was filled with young mammals plodding along with their mothers—elk, deer, bison. It was a sight to behold.

Noelle set her alarm clock for 5 a.m. and got under the pile of old sleeping bags. The plan had energized her mind. Her thoughts wandered, trying to make sense of what was going on. Sleep was
elusive, but exhaustion infected her logic. She even considered contacting a psychic in Jackson who was also a self-proclaimed expert cryptozoologist.
Maybe the attack seemed superviolent because the attacker was some yet-to-be-discovered creature! A sasquatch!
She laughed to herself.

Noelle had gone to the psychic the prior fall. The woman's prediction that Noelle would soon meet the man of her dreams was far from true, and when the woman hit and killed a bighorn sheep in a steep canyon east of Jackson, she told the authorities that a Meh-Teh, or abominable snowman, had thrown a dead carcass at her car while she drove.

In her police report, she wrote that the monster tried to kill her because she was the only human aware of its existence. Eventually the mystery of the flying carcass was resolved when the woman failed a field sobriety test and quickly admitted to smoking marijuana and drinking moonshine before driving. Noelle would stick with Keith for now.

She finally drifted off to sleep with a smirk on her face.

*  *  *

The next morning, Noelle woke up to her alarm and found it easy to get out of bed. She brushed her teeth, changed her clothes, grabbed the tooth, and walked to the car. She had to stop for coffee and gas at Dornan's on the way to Route 89. Again, she found herself wishing she had someone to share her morning coffee with.

You're getting soft, Noelle.

The young man working at Dornan's was a new employee with an “in-training” ribbon below his name tag. Noelle figured he was a seasonal worker who had come for the summer to fish, climb, and hike. Ninety-day wonder.

Sure enough, the man started to awkwardly make conversation with her. “Do you live here? You're up early for a tourist. Um, I . . . I just moved here last Sunday, is why I ask.”

“I work over in the park.” She pointed west toward the Snake River and then swept her hand north toward Mt. Moran. He smiled and nodded. She felt bad for him. She knew how hard it was to relocate to a new place without any friends or family.

He was a good-looking guy. Athletic and handsome. It wasn't that. Noelle was tempted to get his number, but she hesitated too long and made it awkward. Instead, she took advantage of the early hour and faked a yawn, making it clear to the man that she was ready to terminate the conversation as soon as possible.

He handed her the correct change for her coffee and said, “Well, I hope to see you around again. Have a nice day.” Noelle forced a smile and walked away.

Her phone was ringing when she got into her truck.

“Hello?” she answered without bothering to see who it was. Noelle skimmed the park bulletin as she spoke. Mr. Passa and the others had found a bear in the area of the attack and killed it.

Dammit.

“Noelle, how are you?!” It was Anna, Noelle's sister, and she was excited about something. She rarely had time to call Noelle and it was never with the delight that her voice was now unable to hide.

“I'm great,” Noelle mustered. “How're you? It's a bit early for a phone call, don't you think?” It was 5:30 a.m. Mountain Time. Anna lived in New York.

“Well, you know, there's the time change. And plus, I have exciting news for you!”

“You're getting married?” It had been a long time coming.
Noelle wasn't the biggest fan of the institution, but she could be happy for her younger sister.

“Dammit! You were supposed to let me break the news! What do you think?”

“It's wonderful, really. Congratulations! I can't wait to see you on your wedding day.” The remark sounded contrived as it came out, but it was the best she could offer. “Who's the lucky guy?” Noelle was kidding—Anna and Steve had been dating for nearly ten years. Everyone in the family approved of him. He was a banker but had more depth to his personality than might be expected.

“Last night he proposed on the Staten Island Ferry. I was stunned,” Anna said. “Oh my God! I cried! I couldn't even answer!”

“I can imagine,” Noelle said, although it was a lie. “When is the big day?”

“October, here in the city. Still hoping warmish day with fall foliage. I thought you'd approve.” Fall was Noelle's favorite season in New York. “And obviously I want you to be the maid of honor.”