Page 77 of Capture the Moment
He reached over to check his phone. Was it too late to text Emma? Why not? Well, if so, he hoped she had her silent notification on.
He texted her:
Still up?
A few minutes later, she texted back.
Yes. What’s up?
I owe you an apology.
For what?
For not really listening to you. I’m sorry.
Long, long pause. So long that Coop started to think he should’ve called instead of texted. Finally, he saw three dots start dancing.
I’m sorry too.
He smiled, relieved. Then he added:
And I hope you can forgive me.
Another long pause. Then, finally, three dots appeared.
Of course! I hope you can forgive me too.
I do. And I hope ... your wedding day is everything you wanted.
Another long pause. And then...
Thank you, Coop.
A wave of relief washed over Coop as he set his phone aside. It felt right, finally addressing the rift between them. Tim was right. He should have done it long ago. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the peace that settled over him and drifted off to sleep.
Wade’s day had turned out even better than he thought it would, especially when he got the update that the bear was still cozy in her den. But his mood almost hit the roof when he found out the turncoat refused to cough up the coordinates. She was adamant about leading the expedition herself. According to her, the lair was way up there, trickier and more dangerous than expected, what with high altitudes, treacherous water crossings, and plenty of bears roaming around. She claimed to know the terrain like her own fingerprints, boasted of her marksmanship, and promised she could bring them back in one piece.
That’s when it clicked for Wade. Why not play along? Let her think Feldmannwasthe client. They could scout ahead, handle the rough patches, and keep the bears at bay. Meanwhile, he’d trail behind, out of sight. Once they made it to the lair, Feldmann could throw a curveball—fake a twisted ankle or play up some altitude sickness, anything to get her to focus on him and head back down the trail.
And just like that, Wade would have his chance to swoop in and finish the hunt.
As the sky hung on to that twilight glow, Wade drove around the park restlessly. His car’s headlights sliced through the gloaming, spotlighting elk and moose grazing on meadow edges, oblivious to how easily he could take them down. So tempting, he thought, eyeing them.
But Wade wasn’t here for them.
As darkness started to take over, that thrill—the hunter’s buzz—started pumping through his veins. He knew he was on the verge of something epic, a showdown that was months in the making. He imagined the bear, out there somewhere, totally unaware that tomorrow would be its last day.
Gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter, he peered into the growing shadows, half expecting to see those telltale eyes staring back. The big moment was almost here. No more rehearsals, no more planning. It was game time.
Bring on the morning, bring on the hunt.
Eighteen
The message is simple: love and conserve our wildlife.
—Steve Irwin, Australian wildlife conservationist
Tim tossed and turned all night, his mind consumed by troubling thoughts. Sally, the ultimate parkie, seemed to be entangled in a scheme to aid and abet a poacher. He felt sick to his stomach. How could this have happened? Why?
