But nothing about this case did.
No damage was found to the rental, so she and Paterno walked into the terminal, the chill of Montana winter chasing after her.
“You’re not happy,” he said once they’d passed by the stuffed bear standing on hind legs behind a glass case.
“What’s with all the dead bears?” she asked. They’d eaten lunch at a place called Wild Will’s situated near the Grizzly River, the dining area being decorated with stuffed heads of long-dead animals, and in the entrance, greeting potential customers stood a stuffed grizzly bear on its hind legs. If that hadn’t been enough, it had been dressed in a toga, a hunter’s bow spread awkwardly through the massive claws of a great paw, a pink quiver slung over one of its muscular shoulders. The arrows peeking out of the quiver sported glittery red hearts rather than feathers as fletching. Tilted jauntily over one ear was a crown with red jewels, and absurdly, a set of white wings had been spread across his back. Like the damned thing was supposed to be Cupid for the upcoming Valentine’s Day.
“Bear country,” Paterno said.
“So leave them in the country. And alive, thank you very much.” She threw the airport’s taxidermied beast a dark glare. “Where is PETA when you need it?” She was in a bad mood as she headed toward security and her gate. As much as she disliked being here in bone-cold Montana this time of year, Tanaka couldn’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t be leaving, that there was more to her case here in Montana than Ivy Wilde.
She just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Yet.
But she would.
She tossed her coat into a bin on the conveyor belt with her briefcase and laptop, sensing she’d be back.
* * *
“Come on, come on!” Jeff Baylor, a few steps ahead, half turned to wave at Becca Johnson, encouraging her to keep walking. In snowshoes. Which she’d never worn before. In the freezing cold. And it was snowing again. Snowing pretty hard. This trek into the frozen wilderness was his idea, of course, and she’d gone along with it primarily because she was beyond pissed off at Jeremy Strand, the boy she was currently crushing on.
Maybe he wasn’t crushing back, she thought with more than a smidgeon of disgust. Sure, he’d been interested. They’d gone out a couple of times, hung out a few more, and he’d seemed crazy about her. Or so she’d thought when they were making out in the back of his pickup. But it could be she’d been wrong about him. It had happened before. There was a good chance he was just one more man/boy who was only into the budding relationship for a hookup.
Becca had thought about going all the way. She’d come close, but had stopped before things went too far. Such an intimate act hadn’t seemed right at the time when they’d been rolling around in the back of his truck, discarding their clothes wildly, and kissing all over their bodies. She’d put the brakes on, saying as much. Not wanting to be denied, he’d asked her to come back to his apartment, to a real bed. She’d been tempted, only to learn that his “own place” was really just attic space over a garage attached to his mother the cop’s house. Jeremy’s mom, his father, and sister all lived in the same place, just a couple of slabs of sheet rock offering the privacy she needed.
Nope, didn’t sound romantic at all. She’d put the kibosh on that idea.
“It’s not like that,” he’d assured her when, that night, she’d rehooked her bra and said she’d better get home. “It’s really my own place. Separate door. Separate lock. C’mon, Becca, we could spend all night together.”
“Nah.” She’d shaken her head.
“We could wake up together. I’d like that.” He’d seemed earnest. Kind. Loving. But she’d taken a swift reality check. Her mother would totally freak out if she wasn’t home by midnight.
“I have to get back,” she’d explained. “Mom works an early morning shift. I’ve got to watch after my brother.” With a sigh, she’d run a hand down his cheek and felt just the hint of stubble. “I’d like to, really. But I just can’t.”
Jeremy hadn’t pushed her after that, just driven her back home, the two-bedroom cottage Mom rented in town, just three blocks from the river and around the corner from a mini-mart. Becca had hoped the relationship would endure, that maybe, just maybe Jeremy Strand might be the one. In college and working, too, determined to become a cop or a criminal lawyer, Jeremy had aspirations, a future that she daydreamed about making hers as well.
She’d been wrong, of course, but all of a sudden, just this week he hadn’t returned any of her texts or calls and then she’d caught a glimpse of him driving some girl she didn’t recognize through town.
Heartbreak. She was heartbroken and mad.
So, forget him.
Now she plunged her poles angrily into the soft powder.
Of course, neither of them had said anything about exclusivity, so here she was with Jeff Baylor, whom she liked just fine but wasn’t really interested in, and trying like crazy to get past the pain in her chest whenever she thought of lying Jeremy Strand.
“Becca! You coming or what?”
“Give me a sec,” she muttered, forcing herself to keep up with him in the knee-deep snow. She was breathing hard, her breath fogging as snow fell and collected on the curls that escaped from her wool cap. “Where are we going anyway?”
It seemed like they’d snowshoed for miles, and the light was fading fast. The forest, shadowed though not dark due to the blanket of white covering the ground, loomed around them and she was getting a little worried. If they returned the way they’d hiked in, it would be nearly an hour to get back to Jeff’s crossover SUV.
“It’s just up here,” he said. “There’s a creek with kind of an abandoned cottage. It’s cool. I saw a cougar up here once.”
“What?” she nearly squealed, stopping in her tracks. “You’re kidding, right?”