Page 16 of Capture the Moment
“Are you absolutely certain?” a photographer said. “Did you actually see it?”
Frankie scoffed at the doubt. “I can definitely tell a moose from a bear.” He illustrated his point by placing his hands on his head and wiggling them to mimic moose antlers.
“Ranger,” another photographer said, “399 is overdue.”
“Don’t look at me.” Coop lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “She’s on her own schedule.”
“Maybe you should go looking for her,” another said. “Maybe you should see if there’s any evidence that she died.”
“And why would I do that?”
That photographer scowled at him. “Because we’re all standing out here in the cold, morning after morning.”
Even in the dim light, Kate saw irritation in Coop’s eyes. “I think you are all well aware that Mother Nature bats last.” He moved along the line of photographers, yanking Frankie’s arm to keep him moving.
The same photographer who irritated Coop turned to scowl at Kate. “Wildlife doesn’t wait for phone calls.”
“Itwasa moose,” Kate said, eyes on the ground.
“This time. With any luck, next time it’ll be 399. And if your phone goes off, I’m smashing it to bits.”
This would be Wade’s final hunt. No more chasing, no more games. He had a collection of trophies, enough money to last a lifetime. Hunts were starting to lose their spark for him; when you’re the best of the best, what’s left to prove? And after bagging this last prized possession—the ultimate catch—what more did he really need?
Halting his activities now was crucial if Wade wanted to remain under the radar of law enforcement. He had been a marked man on the NPS’s watchlist for years. It all started in Denali, when he was covertly tracking an endangered wood bison that had strayed into the park. He thought he was being covert, anyway. While setting up camp one night, he caught a glimpse of a light, off in the distance, moving in his direction. Someone was following him. In his haste to pack and flee, his wallet must have slipped from his pants pocket. Such a careless mistake. The tracker, an overly diligent ranger, Donald Franklin, found it, including Wade’s driver’s license. Though the address was his mother’s, the NPS now had his name and his face. It felt like a ticking time bomb; sooner or later, they’d try to make a move on him.
Maybe it was time to settle down. Time to live the kind of life his mother always nagged him to get. A charming house in the suburbs with that classic white picket fence, a pretty wife, and a couple of kids to keep his mother happy with grandchildren.
His mother would heartily approve of the woman he was currently dating. Maybe this one would work for him. Maybe not.
She was attractive, easy to manipulate, and slightly more interesting than most of the women he pursued. Pursued ... until he caught them. He grew bored easily.
What would life be like without these games he’d been playing? Could he really walk away from the thrill of the chase? There was something addictive about being the predator, always a step ahead of his prey. Outpacing, outplaying, outguessing.
Outfoxing.
Five
Nature is slow but sure, she works no faster than need be; she is the tortoise that wins the race by her perseverance.
—Henry David Thoreau, American philosopher
The afternoon sun felt good. Maisie ambled down the trail alongside String Lake while her grandfather chatted with some rangers. This morning, they’d gone into Jackson for church. Pops had afternoon duty, so she’d tagged along, happy to be with him, happy to be at the park.
Being in the Grand Tetons felt like a slice of heaven, surrounded by the towering trees, the fresh scent of lake water, and the clean, sweet air. It was a far cry from bustling, noisy, trafficky city life.
Her thoughts drifted to her mom and this supposedly life-changing retreat. Mom definitely needed some changes in her life. Rebecca Woodbine had provided the money to go to this retreat, and even gave Mom extra gas money to deliver Maisie to Pops. On the drive from Denver, Mom had seemed so excited. She said that this time, everything was going to get better. Mompromised.
A wave of uncertainty washed over Maisie. Mom made a lotof promises that didn’t come true. Band-Aid-better promises. Things might get better for a little bit, but not for long.
As she strolled, the towering pines created a canopy, casting dappled sunlight on the path. The farther she walked, the more her worries over Mom slipped away. She took in a deep breath of crisp mountain air. Sheadoredbeing out in nature. Even more so, she loved being with Pops. The future seemed brighter when Pops was in the story.
And then, to her delight and astonishment, she thought she spotted Frankie, trimming branches from a bush encroaching on the trail. She bolted over to him. “Hi!”
Frankie looked up, confused.
“You’re Frankie, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” He finished the bush and gathered up the branches, tossing them into a black plastic garbage bag.
