Page 3 of Capture the Moment
Twenty minutes later, Coop parked his truck in the massive parking lot at Jackson Lake Lodge, swung his backpack over one shoulder, and walked toward the dormitories, frustrated and annoyed. He slid the key into his room’s lock, pushing the door wide open. The small room held two twin beds, a couple of desks, three built-in bureau drawers, and a window offering a view of the majestic Tetons.
That was a plus.
Then came the minus.
On the bed closest to the window was a scrawny kid with a mop of unruly long hair, a red bandana tied around his forehead. He had earbuds in, listening to something on his phone. He looked at Coop as curiously as Coop looked at him.
“Aww, man,” the kid said, sounding disappointed. “Don’t tell me I got stuck with a roommate after all. And they sent in Smokey the Bear? I bet my old man’s behind this.”
“Hello to you too.” Coop unloaded his backpack on the empty bed.
“Sorry. I’m just bummed to have to share my space.”
As was Coop. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Nope. Done for the day. I’m just sitting here contemplating the existential path of mankind.”
In the middle of zipping his backpack, Coop stopped and turned. “How old are you?”
“Old enough.” The kid sat up and slapped his hands on his knees. “Call me Frankie.”
“I go by Coop.” But if this kid were in Coop’s biology class, it would be Mr. Cooper, the only teacher who wore a tie.
“Coop ... like a chicken coop?”
“Like my last name is Cooper.”
“Ah, like Alice Cooper,” Frankie said, his tone an odd mix of enthusiasm and cynicism.
“Yeah, something like that,” Coop said, suppressing a smile. “A little less makeup.” He gave him a sideways glance. “Where are you working this summer?”
“I should be in the Wildlife Brigade.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Apparently, you have to be eighteen years old or haveparental permission.” Frankie said it with a sneer. “But my old man decided I needed some”—he wiggled two fingers for air quotes—“character-building experience.” His face contorted into an exaggerated frown. “So, here I am, serving time in the glorious Youth Conservation Program.”
“So what exactly are you doing?”
“So far, I’ve been assigned to cleaning toilets and unclogging bear-proof trash bins.” Frankie hopped off the bed with a lackadaisical stretch. “You seem pretty old for the Youth Conservation Program.”
“That’s because I am.” This kid could use a filter on his mouth. “I’m a seasonal ranger. For the last few summers, I’ve been assigned to the backcountry.”
“Nowthatsounds like a worthy and noble occupation.” Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression serious. “So what happened to turn your luck for this summer?”
“Assigned to manage the valley’s wildlife photography. Bears, mostly.”
Frankie’s eyes widened, then he burst out with a scoff. “Dude, what a comedown. You’re the official bear photographers’ manager.” He couldn’t stop chuckling. “Man, you must’ve done something really stupid.”
Coop opened and shut the drawers, finding them full of Frankie’s jumbled clothes. “Hey, I’m going to need some space.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just empty one out.”
“I’ll empty two out.” Coop scooped up Frankie’s clothes and dumped them on the floor. He gave his obnoxious roommate alook. “Privileges of age.”
Wade Schmidt tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, glancing at the clock every few seconds. He expected punctuality, especially from those who worked under him. Finally, the phone rang, and he picked it up with a swift motion. “Feldmann, you’re late.”
“Apologies,” came the response. “This case requires meticulous planning.”
