Just Intuition (19 page)

"Nah, she
's fine," Erin's dad reassured him. "Leaks a bit sometimes but nothing serious." Zimmerman pulled on his lifejacket and fastened it all the way to the top. Striker was less concerned, nonchalantly stowing gear and familiarizing himself with the vessel. Unlike many others raised in this area, Zimmerman had little exposure to boating and would have to rely on his partner.

Mrs. Ericsson handed over two large thermal bags and both men politely bobbed their heads in unison. They knew that each bag was packed to the brim with goodies and Erin remembered the ample lunches her mom had packed her for school. Her friends had teased her, dubbing them t
ruck driver lunches, but they always eagerly circled her like sharks to help devour every last bit. Her mom must have suspected that she was feeding half of Erin's elementary class.

"We just fixed the motor. Take care of her, boys." Erin
's dad untied the fourteen-foot aluminum fishing boat from the dock and gave it a solid push toward the middle of the river channel.

Striker squeezed the primer bulb on the fuel line a couple of times and pulled out the choke knob before he gave a quick yank on the starter rope. The outboard motor hacked out a cloud of blue smoke. Undeterred, he shoved the choke in, pulled it
out, and tried again. This time the motor coughed raggedly, and after a minor adjustment, settled into a smooth idle. He adjusted the throttle and switched to reverse until the bow swept around to point downriver. He cranked it into forward and they puttered off without ceremony. Zimmerman gripped the edge of his seat with one hand and held the other up in a tense salute like a soldier going off to the battlefield. Nestled alongside him was the .303 hunting rifle Erin's dad had insisted he borrow. Just in case.

Before they were out of sight, Erin loaded her gear into the lightweight aluminum canoe. They
'd all made the decision during the drive that the men would take the motorboat and search the main channel all the way out to the big lake. They could cover more territory and would have room for passengers if they were successful. Confident paddling solo in a canoe since she was eight, Erin had agreed to serve more of a reconnaissance role. With no propeller to worry about, she could poke around all the narrow weed-choked tributaries off the main river. The lightweight craft could also be easily portaged across otherwise inaccessible terrain between waterways.

Stowed at the bow, and serving as counterweight,
was Erin's own truck driver lunch and her dad's Mossfield 12 gauge. Before she pushed the canoe off, Erin's mom nervously tucked in an extra paddle and a set of bright yellow rain gear, wrapped around a box of shotgun shells. Her worry lines said she hoped it didn't come to that. Erin raised a hand in a silent wave and turned the bow downstream. She set off with long powerful paddle strokes.

There were almost four hours of daylight left before nightfall when they would all meet back here. She was confident she could easily make it to Blue Water Campground, and if she had calculated her distance correctly, she would arrive at the base of the big lake before the rangers closed up for the night. She could ride back with them and return for the canoe later.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Paddle in. Pull back. Paddle out. I watch the droplets of water catch the sunlight when they run off the end of the blade. I've spent a lot of time in small boats but this might be the longest stretch of hard paddling I've ever done. Sweat drips off my nose and right now I am so thirsty I can't work up enough saliva to spit even if I wanted to. Seriously, I could use a beer, but I gave the old bastard the last one I stole. I've always believed that stolen beer tastes better. I wonder if he agreed. I snicker, imagining his stinking corpse rotting in the hole in the ground. He should have known better than to try to tell me what to do. Ten years from now, when they tear down that shed, he'll finally see daylight.

I scoop a handful of water but most of it drains between my fingers before it ever reaches my mouth. It
's been hours since my feet have touched dry land and, besides my thirst, the one overwhelming thought in my mind is that I need to pee.

I see the Minion dip a paddle in and then turn it upright like a friggin
' flag to guzzle water running down the blade. How did such a stupid idiot figure that out when it hadn't occurred to me? Minion is proving to be useful. I make my face curve into what I hope is a pleasant smile and copy the maneuver. The water running into my mouth is like nectar of the gods. Better than beer. But now I really gotta pee.

There
's a small clearing and I point it out. We turn and the bow grinds through the weeds. I push hard on the mucky river bottom until the keel rasps on the sandy shoreline. I poke my paddle one last time at a pair of circling water bugs before I toss it into the middle of the boat and step over the side. I don't give a crap if water fills my shoes. This panther's gotta pee so bad I can almost taste it.

I take my pack with me and head off on my own into the brush to relieve myself on a scrabbly plant with white berries.
Doll's Eyes? That's what they are: Poisonous, like me. I make sure I aim for the berries and finish with a sigh. When I'm done, I find a flat rock down by the shore and stretch out for a rest. I search around in my pack and pull out a granola bar, ripping the package off in my haste to eat it. The Cheetos are long gone and so are the things I took from the fridge. I tossed the empty bags overboard an hour ago.

Minion is splashing around by the canoe, probably looking for me, but I
'm not moving from this spot until I goddamn well feel like it. Dragonflies buzz me like crop dusters and I half-heartedly swat at them. The sun slips behind a cloud and in the shadow a cooling breeze sweeps over me. About time. I don't know how much more of this heat I can stand. I breathe deep and want to purr. Do panthers purr? This one does when it smells freedom.

* * *

Allie emptied her computer case on the queen size quilt that Erin's mom had made for them when they'd moved into the house. Shaking it upside down, she dumped out every last ballpoint pen and pocket pack of Kleenex. There would be no need for any of that today. She changed into a T-shirt and a pair of urban hiking shorts, the ones she loved to wear when she walked Fiona. On her feet were her favorite leather walking shoes, and she'd tied her hair into its usual tight ponytail.

The first thing she stuffed into the empty bag was her red Columbia windbreaker and pants, followed by Erin
's MiniMag flashlight from the bedside stand. It was kept close for those times when they blew an electrical fuse and she needed to traipse to the basement to tinker with the ancient fusebox in the middle of the night. Erin hadn't yet gotten around to the electrical work, so using the hairdryer made that happen with more frequency than she liked.

Attuned to the fact that something different was happening, Fiona trailed inquisitively behind her when she made her way downstairs to finish packing. Wrong-Way Rachel was holed up somewhere sleeping
off the catnip she had enjoyed earlier. The exhausted cat would not be interested in poking around the kitchen counters for another couple of hours.

Allie retrieved a small hatchet, the first aid kit, a bottle of insect repellant, and a coil of yellow polypropylene rope from the storage bin in the front closet. A pack of matches, zipped into a plastic bag, went in after that. She hesitated and leaned, staring into the bag. Fiona whined, wetly nosing the back of her knee and she startled upright. She reoriented herself and searched the hallway closet until she found the red Swiss Army knife her
ever practical foster mom had given her. It was an immeasurably handy tool and she slid it into the front pocket of the computer bag. In the kitchen, she added what seemed like random items. Fiona wagged her tail when Allie reached into the bottom cupboard for the bag of dog treats.

Leaving her wallet and cell phone behind, she locked the door and loaded the dog into her sadly abused car. She tossed her bag onto the front passenger seat and started the engine. Fiona
's tongue dangled out the side of her mouth and her fabulous tail swished energetically. She snuggled into her assigned spot in the back. Allie took a deep breath and backed out the driveway.

She drove on autopilot, absent of conscious decision making. The car navigated across paved streets to the outskirts of town where she turned off and bounced down an unmarked road. Potholes and ruts were deep, scraping the vulnerably low undercarriage of the tiny car. Allie paid no mind and continued until the narrow road became a single lane. It dwindled to twin rows of tire marks through a field of weeds. She drove aggressively, slamming the gears between first and second, forcing the four cylinder engine to its limit. Mud sucked at the tires, rendering them virtually useless. They spun on the unforgiving terrain. She slammed the shifter back into first gear, made her way past a stretch of spongy ground and built up speed, shooting down a narrow tree-lined path.

Fiona's nose twitched in excitement when she sensed their proximity to the river, her tail whipping faster than ever. Allie gunned the engine one last time. The Mini Cooper pitched forward down the bank to the thick aquatic grasses at the river's edge. Water spurted over the hood when it lurched to a stop and then sank ungraciously to its axles in muck.

Stunned, Fiona flattened herself on the floor. The dog shot into
the front seat and pawed at Allie's shoulder when brown water seeped in. As if sleepwalking, Allie calmly unclipped her seatbelt and shoved at her door but it was blocked and would not budge. Unruffled, she unrolled her window, retrieved her bag and exited into the knee deep mud. Fiona followed and instinctively headed back up the bank for drier ground, all four paws thrashing through the weeds.

"You
're a retriever," Allie said. "You're supposed to like water." The mundane words surprised her when they escaped her mouth and she suddenly looked around, as if this was the first time she'd noticed her surroundings. She grimaced at her favorite shoes sunk under two feet of sludge. Pulling them free, she crawled onto the hood of her car, wrenching off a windshield wiper in the process. She sighed at it and tossed it through the open window. Fiona watched her, barking nervously from the top of the riverbank. Allie swung the computer bag over one shoulder and stood up on the bubbled paint of the car's hood. She held a hand over her brows to shield the sun and watched the river.

A solitary figure in a canoe appeared upstream and Allie waited. Erin
's posture stiffened when she recognized her girlfriend and the sunken Mini Cooper. Her paddle strokes quickened. Fiona's barking grew feverish when Erin's canoe pulled closer.

"Baby!" she called out. "What are you doing here?"

"I am coming with you!" Fiona chimed into the conversation with a worried bark of her own.

"You can
't. Your car!" Erin nosed the canoe into the grasses and out of the river's current.

"You have to take us!
You can't leave us stranded out here!" Allie pointed at the dog pacing onshore as if that would be the deciding factor.

* * *

She was right. The closest house was miles from here, if she could even find it in the woods. Erin knew she could not leave her out here alone. She pointed to a rocky outcropping fifty feet downstream and backed the canoe out of the weeds. "Meet me there!"

Allie bounded onto the roof of the car and then, like an Olympic long jumper, made one giant leap toward the riverbank. Fiona ran to greet her when she landed ankle deep in mud and dragged her
sodden shoes up the bank. The dog circled as if they had been separated for days and trotted contentedly behind her to the prearranged meeting spot. They arrived as the canoe's bow eased onto shore and Erin disembarked, hands reproachfully on hips. She faced Allie, who beamed triumphantly.

"What were you thinking?" Erin said, more tersely than she had intended, and Allie
's smile drooped.

"I-
I'm not a hundred percent sure." Allie's lip almost quivered before she recovered. "I know I needed to get here, to this very spot, as fast as I could. I didn't understand until I drowned my car and saw you coming down the river." Erin's expression softened. "You can't leave me here. You have to take me with you."

"And the dog?" Erin massaged Fiona
's soft ear. "What do we do with the dog?"

Allie lift
ed a foot into the canoe and began to board before Erin quickly grabbed the teetering gunwale and motioned her back. She took a deep breath. They would have to start from square one. She slid the boat back off the rock until it was buoyant in the water and waded to her thighs beside it. She relocated the gear and rotated the canoe until the bow was facing out. Directing Allie to enter from the stern, with her weight centered, she reminded her to hold fast to the gunwales. Allie did as instructed and slid her hands along her way to the bow. As if it might leap out and snap at her, she studiously avoided the shotgun lying across Erin's pack.

She had a great sense of balance and there was a minimum of wobble during the procedure. She slid gracefully into her seat, bag at her feet. When she was settled, Erin gently picked up Fiona, hoisting the nervously compliant
seventy pound canine into the middle of the boat. The dog's body tensed and she stiffly settled into a spot dead center. She stepped one sneaker over the side and pushed the canoe away from shore with her other foot. It destabilized momentarily as everyone on board adjusted their position and then settled low in the water. Fiona whined softly and Erin reached forward to pat the dog's back.

"It
's okay, buddy," she crooned. "You're a good girl." Fiona's tail thumped against the aluminum keel and she sniffed a spot under the thwart. Sufficiently distracted, she shifted her weight a little more and hunkered lower in the boat. Erin slid her paddle out slowly so as not to alarm the dog and made strong strokes to get the craft back into the river's downstream current. Paddling solo, she tilted the blade at the end of each stroke to correct the yaw.

Allie took up the extra paddle in front and wholeheartedly tugged it through the water, thrashing the wooden handle against the metal gunwale. After a couple of noisy strokes, she peered around at Erin, who thrust her paddle deeply into the water, drawing it back until it was even with her hip. Erin pointedly withdrew the paddle and repeated. Allie watched the demonstration and then dutifully replicated it at the bow, forcefully propelling the canoe forward. Taken off guard by Allie
's unexpectedly strong stroke, Erin was forced to dig in to correct their direction.

"I
'm so glad you are not a lily dipper," she quipped, and Allie shot her a baffled look. The view from the stern lifted Erin's spirits and she marveled at how easily her city girl had transformed herself once she'd committed to being in the great outdoors. Allie's strong arms pumped rhythmically when she paddled, ponytail swishing back and forth like a metronome across muscular shoulders. It was hard not to want to reach out and stroke the soft caramel colored skin at her neck.

Erin steered them downstream once more, and the two women settled into an easy rhythm. Fiona heaved a great sigh and settled her head on Erin
's pack. The sky grew darker and rain clouds gathered in the distance. A half hour passed before either of them spoke.

"Do I need to ask how you knew where to find me?"

"I don't know," Allie told her. "I just came." She pulled her paddle from the water and twisted around in her seat. "I don't remember actually thinking about what I was doing. I just did it. I packed stuff, loaded the dog and drove. I didn't understand why I had driven my car in the river until I saw you come paddling around the corner. I couldn't risk missing you."

"Hmmm." Erin had no response to that. They paddled on for a few more minutes.

"I don't have a headache!" Allie exclaimed. Fiona's ears twitched upright, settling back down when no apparent danger emerged.

"You better not have candles and wine in that bag, because I have no time for romance." Allie kept paddling, but Erin could imagine the impish grin on her face. In other circumstances, it would be an immensely enjoyable canoe excursion. She turned her mind to the urgent purpose of this particular trip.

"Two other officers went downstream in my dad's fishing boat," she said. If Allie wanted to help, she might as well know what they were looking for. "They are checking the main channel but they can't get into any narrower streams, or places with too many weeds. This canoe rides higher in the water and doesn't have a motor to get tangled. We will be able to check all of those areas." Up front, Allie nodded. She did not miss a stroke.