Mysteries in Our National Parks: Night of the Black Bear: A Mystery in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Gloria Skurzynski

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      The man liked to stack bills neatly. Ten-dollar bills on top of tens, their edges in a straight line, with separate stacks for the twenties and the fifties and the hundreds. Tonight there were seven hundred-dollar bills—pretty good earnings, he thought, in spite of the TV report that had scared some of his clients. Scared them, but excited them at the same time—five new clients had made reservations for tomorrow night. His pile of money would grow fatter still.

      He’d begun to count the twenties and tens when his phone rang, and he hesitated. To answer, or not to answer? It was after hours, so the business was supposed to be closed for the night, but it could be another client, which meant more crisp bills to add to his pile.

      “Yeah,” he spoke briskly into the phone. “Oh, yeah, Mr. Cabelli, I’ve been watching the reports. She wasn’t killed, just sliced and diced a bit. No, she was bloodied up, but that’s all. Don’t worry about our end. All systems are go.”

      Through the window he saw a car edge into the parking lot near his office. A white car, with the words PARK RANGER and a green horizontal stripe above the front fender. It eased past the window like a shark gliding through water. Probably meant nothing, but—

      “I gotta go, Mr. Cabelli.”

      Quietly the man put down the phone and switched off the office lights. Then, with nothing but the soft glow of his watch to guide him, he placed the money in a bulging blue bag and zipped it shut.

      Blood or no blood, he had work to do. He slipped out the side door of his office, locked the bag in the trunk of his black Town Car, and drove away into the night.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      AFTERWORD

      ABOUT THE AUTHORS

      CHAPTER ONE

      Jack was stunned to see the blood on the ground. Deep red, it had seeped into the tall grass behind one of the tombstones, arcing like a fan until it sank into a bare patch of earth. A small, trench-like depression showed where the bear had dragged the girl. Jack had heard that a tourist scared away the bear, making it run off into the trees beyond the cemetery. The girl, the bear’s victim, had been lucky to escape alive. Sometimes a black bear will hold on so tight that nothing can make it drop its prey.

      It seemed really weird to have a cemetery in a U.S. national park—as far as Jack knew, this was the only one. But long before Great Smoky Mountains National Park came into existence, people had lived here. They farmed and hunted wild turkeys, deer, and black bears. When they died, they were buried right where Jack was standing.

      Walking carefully, he tried not to step on any of the blood. Some drops still clung to the leaves of the yellow lady’s slippers that reached up like tiny cupped hands toward the midday sun. He leaned closer, his fingers cautiously touching the tip of a bloody leaf to see if the blood was still wet. It was! Grimacing, he wiped his fingers on his khaki cargo shorts.

      From around the side of the white-walled Cades Cove Methodist Church his sister Ashley called out, “Mom says Heather’s going to be OK.”

      “Who’s Heather? Is she the girl the bear attacked?”

      “Yes, Heather McDonald is her name,” Ashley answered him. “Anyway, she’s going to be all right. Mom talked to the park ranger at the hospital, and he told her Heather will probably be discharged tomorrow.” She squinted up at Jack. “What’s the matter? You look—grossed out or something.”

      “Nothing’s the matter. I’m fine,” Jack told her, regretting that he had wiped his fingers on his shorts, which were now stained with a bloody reminder of the bear attack.

      “OK, well, Mom said she’ll be just a bit longer, and then we can go.” Ashley zipped up her pink hoodie, shivering a little. Though it was nearly May, the air felt a bit chilly.

      Jack СКАЧАТЬ