Every Vow She Breaks (4 page)

Fog hung in the trees. Not ideal lighting for photos, but it did give the camp a certain eerie quality. If she could get the angle right… She retrieved her camera from the car, adjusted the settings and took several shots.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

Claire swung around, camera poised. The man raised a hand in front of his face.

“Paparazzi out here? Are you freaking kidding me?”

Dropping her arm, she stepped back. “I’m Claire Templeton from
Rugged America
. I have an appointment with Leeland Harper.”

Pink colored the man’s cheeks as he pushed graying dark hair off his forehead before extending a hand. “I forgot all about our meeting. Sorry. Please, call me Lee.”

Claire took his offered hand in a firm grip. “Nice to meet you.”

A little on the stocky side and probably in his mid-forties, the scientist’s defensive posture eased. “I apologize for my abruptness, but I’ve had a couple of reporters snooping around. I don’t care if they tell the world what we’re doing—I’m proud of the progress we’ve made—but I won’t allow any disturbances to the habitat we’re monitoring.”

“Makes sense to me. I’m here to photograph the area and document your research. I promise to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“Then we shouldn’t have any problems.” He pointed toward the table. “Why don’t we have a seat? The others are out checking the trip cameras, so we’ll have a few uninterrupted minutes.”

“Great.” After dropping onto a chair, she pulled a notebook and pen from her pocket then gave him an encouraging smile. “Let’s start with your group. How many people do you have working here?”

“There are four of us, all respected scientists from around the country with a common interest. We aren’t a bunch of yahoos floundering in the woods, hoping to scare up a Bigfoot. Individual research led each of us to believe this is an ideal habitat, so we planned something of a retreat.”

She grinned, thinking of Jed. “A busman’s holiday.”

“Exactly. My home base is Cincinnati. Bart Kelton works out of Los Angeles. Margaret Welsh is a Boston native, and from Seattle—”

“Ian Rutledge.” Claire let out a breath. She and Jed had talked about the possibility last night, but she hadn’t really believed Ian would be here. Seeing him again promised to be…uncomfortable. Or not. Maybe her ex—boyfriend, semi-husband, whatever—was married with four kids and thanked God every day she’d initiated the annulment.

Lee’s brows shot up. “How’d you know?”

“Just a guess, but I know he works out of Seattle. Ian and I are old acquaintances.”

“Wonderful.” He beamed. “I’ll let him give you a tour of the area, then. The others should be back soon.”

Terrific.
Worrying about Ian’s reaction to her presence wouldn’t accomplish a thing. Instead, she’d focus on getting a few answers. “What exactly are you doing out in the forest?”

“We’re keeping careful documentation of vegetation disturbances with photographs and video recordings. Like other animals and humans, Sasquatch form patterns of behavior. Over time, we’re hoping to identify these patterns, which will make sightings easier. We’re also searching for sleeping nests and feeding areas.”

“Have you found any yet?”

His face darkened. “There’ve been a few irregularities that indicate activity.”

Claire couldn’t help wondering if the activity had been produced by a bear or a deer or a big, fat raccoon, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “Word is one of your group actually saw a Bigfoot—or do you prefer Sasquatch?”

“Either term is fine. Bart saw something, but it was too far away to accurately identify the creature. I’m afraid a careless comment was exaggerated and spread by the locals the way these things are prone to do.”

Well, crap!
She’d been hoping for one spectacular photo. The type of picture that would launch her career as a nature photographer into the stratosphere.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
At least she still had redwoods to photograph. She’d salvage something from this trip.

“Ah, here comes the rest of the group.” The scientist rose to his feet. “Let me introduce you around.”

Claire snapped her notebook shut. Slowly she stood and turned.

Ian hadn’t changed much in the last fifteen years. Same dark blond hair with a hint of wave and hard, compact build. The man wasn’t overly muscular, but she knew from experience he was stronger than he looked. His cool gray eyes widened when he met her gaze.

“Claire?” His voice came out in a gasp as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Good God, it is you.”

“How are you, Ian?”

“I’m—speechless. Did someone tell you I was out here?”

“Not until about two minutes ago.” She nodded toward Lee. “I came to write a story on your project. I work for
Rugged America
. Maybe you’re familiar with the magazine?”

“Of course I’m familiar with it, but Lee didn’t mention—”

“Slipped my mind, what with the disturbance last night.” The man inched backwards. “I’ll leave you in Ian’s capable hands since I have a few urgent matters to attend to.”

Before Claire could protest, he hurried off. Reluctantly, she returned her attention to her ex and gave him a weak smile. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” She cleared her throat. “May I ask what disturbance? Your colleague appeared more than a little flustered.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze never leaving her face. “Jesus. This is the last place I expected to run into someone I know. I remember you lived around here for a while, but—” His chest rose beneath a light jacket as he drew in a breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘Good to see you, Claire. You look spectacular.’”

“Very funny, not that you don’t—look spectacular, I mean. If I’m in charge of filling you in on our work, I suppose we should sit.” He waved toward the chair she’d vacated.

“I’d rather take a walk.”

He hunched one shoulder. “Sure. I’ll show you around.” He turned then stopped as his two colleagues broke off their conversation. “Where are my manners? Margaret Welsh, Bart Kelton, meet Claire Templeton.” His eyes narrowed. “It is still Templeton, isn’t it?”

“I’m not married.”

“Oh.” He glanced away. “Not that it matters one way or the other.”

Claire grasped the hand of a handsome, blue-eyed blond who looked more like an aging surfer than a scientist, then exchanged greetings with an older woman with short, gray hair and a direct gaze.

The woman’s forehead creased. “We won’t tolerate a sloppy, sensationalized story.
Rugged America
has an excellent reputation for reporting the facts along with beautiful photography, but I’ll admit I wasn’t in favor of allowing a journalist into our camp.”

Claire kept her gaze steady on the skeptic. “My intention is to photograph and chronicle what I see. I don’t embellish the truth.”

Margaret looked away. “If that’s the case, we’ll get along fine, but right now I need to drive into town. I’ll answer your questions some other time.”

“Not a problem.”

Without another word, she strode toward a truck parked at the edge of the clearing, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

Bart cleared his throat. “Don’t mind Margaret. She’s crusty but brilliant. I, on the other hand, am happy to cooperate.”

Ian scowled. “You can talk to Claire later.” Turning his back on the other man, he jerked his head toward a trail that disappeared into the forest. “If you want me to show you around, let’s go.”

She picked up her camera then looped the strap over her neck before tucking her notepad into her pocket. “I’m ready.”

“This way.”

Claire followed, increasing her pace to keep up as the giant trees closed in around them. “Where’s the fire?”

“What…oh, sorry.” He slowed then waited before moving onward. “It’s just odd, seeing you again.”

“I hope you don’t have a problem with me being here.”

He let out a huff of breath. “Why would I? We were stupid kids back then. I won’t hold the fact that you ripped my heart out and stomped all over it against you.”

“Ian—”

“Kidding, Claire.” He rolled his eyes. “You should see your face. Our marriage—if you can call it that—is ancient history. I see no reason we can’t maintain a professional, even friendly, relationship.”

“That’s a relief.” She forced a smile. “I was more than a little worried.”

“Don’t be.” He turned away then pointed. “There. See the camera positioned up in the tree. That spot below is a prime feeding location. The salmonberries are thick but easy to access. Anything entering the area will activate the equipment.”

She lifted her camera, adjusted the settings then took several shots as weak rays of sun filtered through the fog to glimmer on damp foliage.

“We have similar trip cameras set up in a wide radius.” His lips firmed. “It’s just a matter of time before we capture a Sasquatch on film.”

“Nothing yet?”

“Bear, deer, raccoon, skunks…” He shrugged. “We’re working on making the equipment less sensitive to smaller animals.”

“They all subsist on the same diet?”

“To some extent, but then so did humans indigenous to this area going right back into pre-history. Are you a non-believer?”

The fiery look in his eyes practically dared her to say yes. She took a step back.

“I’m not ruling out anything. At this point, I’m gathering data. I’ll hold off on forming opinions and making conclusions until I know a great deal more about the subject.”

“You sound more like a politician than a photographer.”

She lifted her camera as a squirrel, bushy tail waving, stilled on the trail ahead. After snapping the picture, she answered. “I won’t be deterred by insults.”

He snorted. “Same old funny Claire. I did miss your sense of humor after we split up.”

“My levity provided balance in our relationship since you were always so serious.” When his eyes darkened, she rushed on. “Which is probably an asset in your line of work.”

They walked in silence for some time before he spoke again. “People tend to scoff when they hear the subject of my research.” He scowled. “Frankly, it’s irritating as hell.”

“I bet.”

“I’ll prove them all wrong.” He kicked a fir cone off the path. “There’s another monitoring station up ahead.”

His quick change of subject left Claire grasping for a reply. Not that there was much she could say in response to the vitriol in his voice. The intelligent, idealistic student brimming with confidence she remembered was lost inside an angry, resentful man. Regret filled her as she photographed the tiny clearing surrounded by waist-high ferns.

“Is that enough for now?”

“Huh?” She glanced over then lowered her camera. “Sure. I can come back another time.”

“Sorry, but there are a few things I need to take care of today.”

She ran a few steps to catch up then walked beside him as he took off down the trail. “Anything to do with the disturbance Lee mentioned?”

“Christ, you’re like a dog with a bone. It wasn’t that big a deal. One of the cameras fell, damaging it. We determined something—or someone—tampered with the straps holding it in place.”

“Who would bother your equipment? My friend, the one who notified me your group was out here, didn’t mention any problems with the locals.”

He shot her a sharp look. “I didn’t know you stayed in contact with any of your old high school pals. You never talked about them much in college.”

“Just Theresa.”

“Oh.”

They were quiet as they followed the needle-covered path back through the forest.

Finally, he shrugged. “I doubt it was one of the locals. Most of them are hoping to cash in on a Bigfoot sighting, though there have been a few negative grumblings. The locals seem divided over all the Sasquatch hunters they get around here. Could have been kids, I suppose, but more than likely it was that damned reporter from one of those sensational rags. Lee found him snooping around a couple days ago and told him to get lost. Somehow I doubt we’ll get rid of his type so easily.”

“I feel honored you agreed to let me interview you.”

“
Rugged America
is a reputable magazine.
Nature Exposed
isn’t.”

She turned and stared. “Wow. Small world. I got my start at
Nature Exposed
.”

His head jerked back. “Why would you work for a piece of trash like that?”

“Don’t sound so superior. You need experience to land a decent job, so I did what I had to do to get it. Who was their journalist?”

“If Lee mentioned his name, I don’t remember.”

“Probably some young kid just starting out.” She followed him out of the woods then stopped beside Jed’s SUV. “Thanks for the tour. When would it be convenient for me to come back?”

“Tomorrow’s no good.” He frowned. “Maybe the day after. We’re planning to expand our working area. I guess you could tag along while we set up equipment.”

“Great.” She ran the toe of her boot through the thick fir needles littering the ground. “Do you mind if I bring a friend?”

He shrugged. “Why not? As long as she’s a decent hiker and won’t slow us down, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Claire opened her mouth then shut it. He probably assumed her friend was Theresa. At this point, enlightening him that
she
was a
he
would probably only lead to an argument. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.”

“Sure. Take care, Claire.” Turning on his heel, he walked away.

After climbing into the SUV, she started the engine and pulled out of the clearing. Steering with one hand, she shook a couple of aspirin out of a bottle stashed in her purse and swallowed them dry. Her head ached with trying to find some resemblance to the youth she’d once loved in the embittered man she’d just spent the last hour with—and failed.

When she’d thought of Ian over the years, she’d pictured him at the top of his field, enlightening a bevy of adoring underlings—much the way he’d enraptured her with his knowledge and enthusiasm. She sighed, for a moment wishing she’d kept her illusions about her ex and never come on what would surely prove to be the quintessential goose chase. Not that she’d expected to uncover the truth behind the legend of Bigfoot. Still, a girl could dream.