Cry wolf, p.1
Cry Wolf, page 1
Cry Wolf
AN ALASKA UNTAMED MYSTERY
Lark O. Jensen
This is another book dedicated to Fred Johnston, Linda O. Johnston’s husband. Yes, he’s still a buddy of Lark O. Jensen too.
Chapter One
“I can’t wait till next week!” I exclaimed to Wayne Deerfield, executive director of Juneau Wildlife World. His surname was highly appropriate considering where he worked, although the fifty-something man resembled a bear more than a deer. He was large and muscular enough to help wrangle the animals when necessary, a good thing.
“Yep, it’ll start a valuable time for all of us.” Wayne smiled at me as he leaned over his cluttered wooden desk—a big work surface for a big man. “We’re happy that you’ll begin working for us for the winter, Stacie, rather than volunteering part-time.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied from the comfortable chair I sat in across from him in the also-cluttered office. I’d met with him this morning to discuss my becoming an employee again. Not that I would get a huge paycheck. The animal sanctuary ran mostly on donations, with some money coming in from visiting tourists. I’d spent time here volunteering on days off during the summer season when I worked at my dream job, leading nature tours on the local waters. And though I needed an income now, late in the year, to care for myself and my dog, I didn’t want to take much money from this very special nature preserve.
But I intended to do a good job observing and helping the animals. I’d love it. Again. Even though my favorite job remained giving tours on boats in the summer. I reached down and patted my wonderful gray-and-white husky, Sasha, on the head. I’d brought her along, as always, and she sat on the shining wood veneer floor beside me. Most areas where wildlife roamed in this refuge were off-limits to her, although she could join me on many paths in areas where the animals tended not to come close to the fences. Hiking out there was good exercise for her—and me too. If I ever visited the locations where I might get up close and personal with some wildlife, which I hadn’t yet, she could stay in an enclosed area in this main building. At least she wouldn’t be home alone.
Wayne was a nice enough guy to permit her to be here even under limited circumstances, and I appreciated it. Most dogs weren’t allowed in this sanctuary, but Wayne had met Sasha before and knew how well behaved she was. And even during visits when I brought her along while volunteering, there were times she sensed that one of the inhabitants needed help. She communicated this to me in her special way of staying in the area, looking into my eyes with her wonderful blue ones, and snorting without getting close to the animal. That had happened when a reindeer had injured its leg in one of the large areas of the preserve near a hiking trail, and another time when a young bear cub had gotten separated from its mother. Sasha’s name means defender, after all.
I’d immediately notified the first staff member I found, and both times the animals had been rescued and received the care they needed.
So now most of those who worked and volunteered at this shelter were perfectly fine with Sasha coming along, just as she was welcome on the ClemElk. That’s the tour boat where I work as the primary guide during the season when it isn’t too cold or icy to be out on the Alaskan waters viewing the amazing wildlife in the water and along the shorelines.
That season was drawing to an end now, in chilly mid-October. I had a couple more tours to give this week, but then ClemTours would close for the winter. I’d had to determine what to do with my time till spring—mine and Sasha’s. Not that it was hard to decide. I’m a naturalist by education and career—and love of animals. I volunteer at Juneau Wildlife World when I have time during the summer. And last winter I’d officially worked here, so it made sense for me to come back again.
Which was why I was here today—to confirm all was well and that I’d officially start in a few days.
“Sounds good,” Wayne said. “We’ll still have a few of our regular staff, but as usual, a lot have said they’re heading back to the lower forty-eight for the winter. Not everyone can deal well with snow and harsh conditions.”
“The animals have to.” Not that I had to remind him. “All the more reason for their human protectors to do just that—protect them.”
“I’m not one you need to convince,” he said with a laugh. “But fortunately, you’re not the only one who’ll hang out to help. We have a few volunteers living in the Juneau area who said they’ll continue to come.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Anyway, I’ll start first thing next week, after I give my last two tours of the season over the next few days.”
“Fine. Hey, while you’re here, you may want to check out who’s in today who will also be working with us over the winter. We even have some newcomers.”
“I like that idea. I assume things will work the same as last year? You’re still providing instructions about who’s to observe where and when, keeping an eye on our protected inhabitants, right?”
“That’s right. As you know, the instructions are pretty general but mostly involve observation and reporting, and even tours if the weather is okay and any tourists arrive. You may also be asked to help prepare food for specified animal groups and distribute it at appropriate places for them. Other people will work on that too, as always. Of course, it’s even more critical in winter, since the animals can do less foraging on their own.”
Some, like the reindeer and elk, usually fed off the landscape. The carnivores pretty much had to be supplied with some of their food year-round, since the idea was to keep the inhabitants from eating each other. The preserve had been established years ago not just as a place where animals roamed in their natural habitats but also where they could be taken in because of injuries or because they needed a special place to go, which was why it included large but enclosed areas for their safety. The animals were all amazing to observe and care for, wildlife at its wildest and best here in Alaska. Naturalists like me, Stacie Calder, a woman long in love with wildlife, couldn’t ask for anything better.
“Got it.”
“I’m going downstairs for a few minutes,” he continued. “You can join me, and maybe go outside to do your usual patrol of our grounds—with Sasha, if you’d like.”
“I’m ready to go when you are, and so’s Sasha.”
We rose, my dog included, and headed for the office door. I paused to gaze through the wide windows that lined the far side of the hall in this delightful welcome building, which had apparently been constructed as a special part of the sanctuary. People on both levels could look out toward several parts of the grounds. Animals weren’t always visible, but at the moment I saw a bald eagle soaring in the sky.
“Wow,” I said as I watched. Sasha must have seen it too, since her head moved in the same direction.
“Yeah, wow,” Wayne agreed.
The eagle soon soared out of sight, and I followed the director down the stairway.
In the lobby downstairs, one of the other employees was just walking in. I didn’t know Marnie Korman well, but she was the main food preparation employee. She looked about my age: early thirties. My hair is of medium length and the shade I like to call dachshund brown, after the pup I had as a child. Hers? It was short and bright blond, probably with help. She was a pretty lady, and she was smiling now, as she usually was when I saw her.
“Hi, Stacie,” she said right away. “And hi, Sasha.” She joined us and bent to pat my loving husky on the head.
Like me, she wore a sweatshirt. Hers, a gray one, read Juneau Wildlife World. Mine was plain black. I was used to wearing shirts that said ClemTours on my water outings, but while I worked here, I’d probably wear a Juneau Wildlife World sweatshirt often too. And thick parkas outside as the weather got worse.
“Hi back,” I said. “You’re going to have to instruct me again in food prep soon so I can help you. I’ll be working full-time in a couple of days.”
“Ah, the Alaskan weather is driving you off the water again,” she said, nodding knowingly. “Well, better here in the snow where you can watch and help our resident animals rather than dealing with snow and ice around tour boats—even though you won’t get to see your seals and whales and other sea creatures.”
“Exactly. But naturalist me is thrilled to get to visit with all kinds of native wildlife.”
“I understand that.” She looked toward Wayne, who now stood beside me. “And hi to you,” she said. “I’m about to start getting more of our animals’ food ready. Do we have anyone coming in to help—volunteers or employees?”
“As far as I know, we do,” Wayne said.
“Great. Well, see you later, Stacie and Sasha.” With that, Marnie pivoted on the tile floor and headed toward the rear of the tall, open lobby area, where a door led into a hallway and to the kitchen and some other important areas, like the on-site veterinary clinic.
“So, what are you up to now?” Wayne asked.
“Well, if Marnie had suggested it, I’d go help her with food prep. I may stop in later to check on whether she needs me to do anything. But for now, I think Sasha and I will take a quick hike.”
“Sounds good.”
Sasha and I were soon outside. I hunkered my sweatshirt around me because it was chilly, around forty degrees on this early-October afternoon. Colder at night. Would it get even colder? Absolutely, as autumn merged into winter and more precipitation, usually snow, fell. I could deal with this. I had for over a year now. But it was okay for me to admit to myself when I was a bit chilly.
There was a large open area at the front of the we lcome building, mostly paved. Visitors, as well as employees and volunteers, could park their cars there, and today I’d also left my blue SUV there—at the end, so lots of people could park closer to the door. But there were only a few cars there at the moment.
As usual, Sasha was leashed beside me, wearing a harness so I wouldn’t choke her if I had to slow her down or lead her in a different direction. Right now, we headed across the parking area to the nearest pathway, a wide one with a gravel surface that led between a couple of the reserve areas containing types of wildlife that shouldn’t mix. They were all enclosed by tall chain-link fences, and some, farther away from here, also had very large, rounded, uneven caps that prevented the animals from scaling the tops. Both areas here were large, with rolling terrain covered with grass, where the resident reindeer, moose, and elk could graze. Hares and others hung out here too. They weren’t all native to this area but had been brought in for different reasons, often because they or their mothers had been discovered injured somewhere else in Alaska and they needed a place to live.
As Sasha and I set off down the trail, we were alone. I’d given tours at this sanctuary as well as from my boat when I was volunteering here, but that wasn’t why I’d come today—and there didn’t appear to be any folks looking for tours today anyway.
I did see some reindeer in the distance, but none of the other animals. Still, it was always fun to see who was where.
We continued on for a while, and I saw some moose in the area on the other side of the trail, also far away. When I was on the job, I figured, I’d see a lot more, although when the weather got bad, maybe not. But I would file reports on who I saw when to help the sanctuary keep track of its residents. I’d also help get food out there, and when the ground was covered with snow, we’d augment what was left of the grass and other growth these animals would eat with other plants brought in to feed them.
In a while, I turned and gently pulled at Sasha’s leash. “Come,” I said. “Time to go back.” We needed to say good-bye and remind Wayne when we’d return. As we continued along the path and neared the parking lot again, I saw a man approaching. A visitor, I assumed, who also intended to go out and see what animals he could. Was he carrying a shelter map? I didn’t see him holding one, nor a phone where he could view maps on the app.
He was tall and thin, wearing a blue knit cap. He also wore a sweatshirt that said Juneau Wildlife World. Had he been here before? Just bought it?
“Hey,” he shouted as he got closer.
I smiled as he hurried up to us. I hadn’t seen him while volunteering, or at least I didn’t think so. I started to welcome him to the sanctuary, but he stopped right in front of me and grabbed for Sasha’s leash. I moved so he couldn’t reach it.
“Why do you have a damned dog here?” he shouted. “This is an animal sanctuary. Pets don’t belong. Didn’t they tell you when you arrived and paid your admission?”
“Whoa,” I responded through gritted teeth. “I didn’t pay admission. I’m a longtime volunteer and am about to become a winter employee for the second time. The director, Wayne Deerfield, knows about Sasha and always lets me bring her.”
My dog stood beside me, looking up at the scowling man, and I put my hand on her head, gently commanding her to stay still.
“I don’t believe that,” the man said. “Now, get the hell out of here.”
“I don’t care what you believe,” I stormed back. “And who are you to tell me or my dog what to do?”
“I’m one of the managers, that’s who I am. And your dog needs to leave. You too.”
Really? A manager? “You must be new.” I tried to keep my voice light, even friendly. “We haven’t met before. As I said, I’ve been coming for a long while and am always allowed to bring Sasha. Like I also said, Wayne is fine with it.” I paused as the guy continued to glare. “Tell you what. Let’s go back to the welcome building and talk to him.”
I didn’t ask if he agreed, but leading Sasha with her leash, I walked around him and headed back along the path toward the main building.
I knew Wayne was fine with Sasha being here. But as an incoming employee, I’d undoubtedly run into this man again. If he really was a new manager—and why would he lie about that?—I’d have to figure out a way to get along with him and still have my wonderful dog with me.
Hopefully, Wayne, apparently his boss, would help.
I heard the fellow’s footsteps on the gravel as he caught up and walked beside me, with Sasha on my other side. Okay, if he really was a manager, now was a good time to start attempting to get along with him. After all, he might wind up officially telling me what to do, Sasha or not.
I turned to look at him and made myself smile. “I’m Stacie Calder, by the way. I’m a naturalist by background and profession. I provide tours on one of the tour boats that goes out into the local waters during the spring and summer, and I’ve got a couple more to provide this year before the season ends. That’s when I’ll start working here—next week.”
“Got it,” he said, still somewhat curtly. But he followed my cue and said, “I’m Oliver Brownling. I’ve worked at various wildlife sanctuaries here in Alaska and started at this one about a week ago.”
“I’ll want to hear about the others,” I told him. “I really appreciate all the places where local wildlife is protected and cared for. I’ve visited some when I can, but not as many as I’d like. Were any around the Juneau area?”
“A couple.”
I got no further details after we crossed the parking lot and entered the building.
There were a few visitors in the lobby area, and one of the volunteers I’d known for a while, Larraine Placarde, was with them, showing them around. Larraine was in her forties and had lived in Alaska her whole life, although she’d been in Juneau for only five years or so. But like the others, including my new acquaintance Oliver, she was an animal aficionado. Her long brown hair was pulled back, held by a silver scrunchie at the back of her neck. She was pretty, with prominent eyelashes and a ready grin.
She showed that grin now to the people with her, who appeared to be a family with two young kids. They all wore fluffy parkas, even though the worst cold was yet to come. Then she spotted me with Oliver and Sasha and gave a brief wave. I waved back as I headed up the stairway to the second floor with my dog, Oliver behind us. Hopefully, Wayne was in his office.
Another volunteer came down the stairs just then, and I said hi to Bill Westerstein, who’d been here several times when I’d visited this season. Couldn’t tell it on the stairway, but he was about my height. Though he wasn’t much older than me, his hair was graying, but he still looked fairly handsome. He was a nice guy, originally from the San Francisco area, he’d told me, but he wanted to do something more frontierlike than he could there. He said he worked at one of the downtown Juneau restaurants now and was looking forward to spending his first real winter in Alaska. Well, he’d soon get that opportunity.
Following him was Shawna Streight, a native of Juneau. In fact, judging by her appearance, she might actually be a descendent of the original natives, with her dark skin and sharp features. I kind of envied her. She might be even closer to the animals than the rest of us, at least by her cultural heritage.
“Hi, you two,” I said, then had to ask, “Are both of you going to continue to volunteer this winter?”
“Definitely,” Bill called over his shoulder.
“Me too,” Shawna said.
I wondered what the man following me was thinking. As a manager, he might be managing these volunteers too.
We soon reached the second floor, and Sasha and I led the way to Wayne’s office. The door was closed, as I’d expected. I hoped the director was there and knocked.
“Come in,” came the call from inside. I opened the door and entered, letting Sasha go in first. Oliver brought up the rear, and I wondered again what the new manager was thinking.
Wayne wasn’t alone. Marnie, our food prep expert, sat on a chair across from his desk. But she got up at our entry and came over to pat Sasha, who lapped up the attention, as she usually did.
“Hi, Wayne,” I began immediately, waving at Marnie and not letting Oliver start the conversation. “Sasha and I were out on the trail across the street, and Oliver joined us. He said he’s a new manager, though we hadn’t met before. And—well, he made it very clear he didn’t think Sasha should be there, or anywhere else at this sanctuary. I can understand his concerns, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d enlighten him about my dog being permitted to be here, though there are rules Sasha and I need to follow, which we do.”
