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  Trip said, “Nope, that’s the sledder’s truck,” closing the passenger door of the Silverado.

  Austin agreed, “Yeah, that is a little odd. When I talked to Fred Paulson at the station yesterday, he promised me that someone would be out to investigate first thing this morning.”

  “Maybe they slept in?” Christine offered.

  “Could be, but we’ll just have to see if they show up later. Maybe there’s a crime wave happening that we’re not aware of. Whatever the reason, we can’t wait for them.” Austin adjusted the backpack on his shoulders as he spoke.

  Trip concurred, saying, “Yeah, let’s get goin’ while the gettin’s good, folks! Light’s a-wastin'!”

  Austin backed the sleds off the trailer while Trip topped off their fuel from the tank behind the cab of the truck.

  From behind the controls of his sled, Austin said, “We only have the two snowmobiles, Chris, so you’ll have to double up with one of us,”

  “I figured as much,” Christine said, looking at the size of the seats on the snowmobiles. On Trip’s machine, she wasn’t sure if there would be enough room for her, Trip and Trip’s belly. Austin, despite his backpack, might be a more comfortable ride up the mountain, she decided. “I’ll ride with you, Austin, if that’s okay with Trip?”

  Trip shrugged his shoulders and said nothing, but Christine could see that he looked a little bit disappointed that he wouldn’t have the pleasure of her company. Feeling bad, she said, “Maybe on the way back, I’ll ride with you, Trip.” Her words seemed to have an effect, and Trip climbed onto his snowmobile with a slight spring in his step.

  "Hop aboard m'lady, your chariot is about to depart." Austin gestured toward the empty seat behind him on the sled. Christine jumped on behind Austin and held tight. The engines of the snowmobiles growled to life, shattering the quiet day as they began the next stage of their ascent toward Gold Ridge. The fog thinned further and further until brilliant, blue sky dazzled Christine. Clinging tightly to Austin’s back, she soaked in the beauty of the snow-frosted countryside as it glided past. Murphy seemed a man confident in his abilities as he steered them up the mountain, piloting the sled with practiced ease that belied the skill involved.

  When they eventually rolled to a stop, Christine pulled a much-needed pair of gold-mirrored sunglasses from an inner pocket in her parka. She slid them onto her nose, tucking several stray strands of long blonde hair behind one ear as she did. A new layer of ice from the previous night’s freezing fog had settled over the area, and it had not fared well. She was concerned that the icy build-up after the mild temperatures from the previous day might affect her examination of the spoor and make it more challenging than usual.

  Christine crunched across the glittering frosted surface toward the collapsed tent. She knelt near the torn tent fly and pulled it aside, revealing a deep impression that had been partially obscured by the fabric. “Oh, my Lord! This thing must be enormous!” Taking out her Canon Rebel, she started snapping numerous pictures of the animal’s spoor but knew she needed something with better definition as the current track appeared somewhat distorted.

  From over her shoulder, Trip said, “That track must have expanded quite a bit in the last couple of days since it happened.”

  Christine nodded, “It could have been affected by daytime warming. We’ll have to find another one to be sure.”

  Austin said doubtfully, “It must have expanded. I mean, there aren’t any animals around these parts that could leave a print that big, are there?”

  Standing, Christine said, “None that I’m aware of, but that’s what we’re here to determine. This print makes it really hard to say.” She snapped another shot with her camera and looked back to see from which direction the prints tracked. Moving slowly toward the fire pit, she shook her head in wonder as she approached. “This is nuts!”

  Something had come directly through the fire itself. Remnants of partially burnt logs, some as thick as her torso, were scattered several metres away from the now-cold bonfire. The power it must have taken to plough through that amount of firewood, especially if it were aflame, was insane! She crouched next to the cold embers and let out a low whistle, saying, “Most of the other prints weren’t usable, but this one, this is a different story.” Brushing aside some ashes covering the print with a small sable brush from her pack, Christine gaped at what she saw. Clearly outlined in the frozen mud near the edge of the fire pit was one of the most immense bear tracks she had ever seen in her ten years as a conservation officer. It was located next to a thicket of green holly bushes awash in red berries. The plant’s foliage had kept the paw print shaded from sunlight in daytime, and provided a protective canopy from ice frost at night. “Unbelievable!" she said in wonder. "The size of this thing is crazy! I hope I brought enough dental bone with me to cast a print for something so large.”

  “I know, this is definitely into WTF territory, isn’t it? Austin commented from behind, peering over her shoulder. “I think Trip and I will have a scout around while you do that.” Standing next to Austin, Trip craned his neck this way and that, as if looking for any sign that the creature that left the tracks might be coming back their way.

  “Sounds good, I’ll be at least a half an hour, ” Christine said, reaching into her pack. She took out a bag of dental bone and assorted accessories.

  “Okay, just watch your back, who knows if that thing is still nearby looking for seconds,” Trip said, head still swivelling like a radar dish.

  “Thanks, I’ll make sure I keep a look-out.” Christine knelt and began pouring water into the plastic bag containing the dental bone.

  With Christine tending to her casting, Austin and Trip followed the misshapen, frost-covered tracks in an attempt to see from which direction they originated. Working their way back from where they found Jerry, they determined that the creature had come into the campsite from the direction of the Golden Nugget Resort and Spa.

  “Now that is interesting,” Austin said. “Christine said the raccoon also came from a direction that would have lined it up almost perfectly with the resort as well.”

  “You’re right, the casino is just about a dozen klicks that-a-way as the crow flies,” Trip said, pointing in the direction of the resort.

  After a bit more poking around, the pair returned to the campsite to find Christine preparing to remove the casting from the fire pit. Austin said, “Well, we found the direction our creature came from.”

  Christine stood, saying, “Don’t tell me, it came from the resort, right?”

  “Well, it didn’t come from the Black Lagoon,” Austin said, chuckling at his reference.

  “Huh?” Christine looked puzzled.

  “Sorry, making a little joke there. Probably before your time.”

  With a slight shrug, Christine added, “Anyway, the area around the resort certainly looks to be a bit of a hot-spot for our four-legged freaks of nature wandering around out there, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, barring the possibility that Ray Chance rented out part of his resort to Victor Frankenstein, which I think is a bit of a stretch, whatever else remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Austin said.

  “Indubitably, Watson,” Christine said with a smile. Kneeling next to the now solidified dental bone, she began gently prying at the edges with the blade of her pocket knife.

  The high-pitched drone of two snowmobiles approaching broke the quiet of the morning air as the Lawless Police Department pulled onto the scene. The blue and white paint on the sleds contrasted sharply against the red-tinted frost that they ground beneath their treads as they stopped.

  Austin knew there was going to be a problem from the moment he saw who was piloting the lead snowmobile. The officer in question got off slowly, his ample size causing him a moment of distress as he attempted to disengage his fleshy buttocks from the seat of the sled. He plodded toward them, a dour expression on his face. Behind the gloom was none other than Chief of Police, Reggie VanDusen. />
  Almost falling off of the second snowmobile in his hurry to catch up to VanDusen, and doing his best sycophantic scurry, was Oscar Olsen. Slipping and sliding, the man attempted to rush across the ice-crusted snow to catch up to his boss, but met with little success and stumbled several times.

  Reggie VanDusen had been with the Lawless police department ever since he’d graduated high school, starting first as a rookie constable and eventually working his way up to the lofty position of Chief of Police. Austin remembered Reggie as a child. They had both grown up in the same neighbourhood in Lawless. Back in the day, VanDusen had been the neighbourhood bully, and not much had changed since. As he’d grown more comfortable working for the police, advancing in rank over the years, his abuses of power had grown exponentially with his promotions. Now, he was a bully with a badge and had found his place in life. Reggie's aggressively belligerent attitude allowed him to fit right in with the rest of the police force that Mayor Bob Nichols had hand-picked over the years to protect his investments at the ski hill and now casino.

  “Howdy, Austin,” VanDusen said, curtly. “Isn’t this a little outside of your jurisdiction? Did somebody’s kitty-cat wander away from home out here? Or are you into some off-road maintenance now?” He nodded in Christine’s direction with a wink.

  “Actually, I was helping our new conservation officer here, Christine Moon,” Austin said. He gestured toward Christine, who was still kneeling near the fire, unfolding a large empty plastic bag to contain the dental bone casting.

  Austin continued, “I wanted to make sure she could find this site. Plus, I wanted to be here to cover any questions she may have or any that you might have about what happened here at the camp, including the rescue of the survivor. We believe we have an idea where the thing that attacked the campers came from as well.”

  “Hold on, hold on!” VanDusen said. “What do you mean, attack? Nobody said anything about an attack happening here!”

  Bewildered, Austin asked, “Didn’t Fred give you my statement?”

  “Yeah, I read the report you filed, Murphy. But whether there was or wasn’t an attack up here is for Lawless Police Department to determine, not you!”

  “Take a look around, Chief; it’s pretty obvious something happened here,” Trip interjected.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Williams,” VanDusen said, looking at Trip with thinly veiled contempt.

  Trip put up both of his hands in front of his chest, palms out toward VanDusen as he backed away, saying, “Okay, fine.” He realised his input was neither desired, nor required, and went to check on the snowmobiles.

  VanDusen walked around the campfire, looking at the tracks left behind by the creature as he went. He ended his journey standing behind Christine, who was still kneeling next to the cold ashes. The chief watched as she opened the top of a large transparent plastic bag to contain the casting beside her on the ground. As she reached to pick up the casting, VanDusen put his hand softly on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, as if giving her a light massage. “Well, well, whatcha got there, little missy? Are ya makin’ a mud pie?” His voice dripped with condescension.

  (extra space above needed during compile, remove this sentence!)

  Christine's shoulders tensed as soon as VanDusen touched her. Carefully laying the casting down on top of the opened bag, she stood upright. Turning, she gave VanDusen a withering stare. “First of all, it’s Conservation Officer Moon to you, not ‘Missy’.” Eyes burning brightly, she stepped toward the police chief and poked him in the chest with her index finger. VanDusen backed up a step, a look of surprise on his face.

  “Second of all, it’s a dental bone casting of spoor left behind by a possible man-eating apex predator, not a mud pie!” She stepped toward him once more as she spoke and VanDusen backed up again.

  “And thirdly, if you EVER touch me again, I’ll have you charged with sexual harassment and I'll have your goddamned badge! You got it?” She emphasized her last point by firmly poking the centre of VanDusen’s silver badge with her right index finger, pushing the circle-wrapped star deeply into his flabby chest. He backed away yet another step as Christine explained this last fact to him.

  Austin observed the confrontation, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It always brightened his day to see someone take Reggie VanDusen down a notch or two.

  Trip was also paying rapt attention to the conversation between Christine and Reggie, but his eyes betrayed the lack of emotion hidden by his beard — the twinkle of joy as he watched VanDusen get poked in the badge was undeniable.

  “Well, excuuuuse me!” the chief sputtered, backing up one more step away from Christine, perhaps fearing another poke in the badge. But he didn’t look where he was going and tripped over a log, going down hard on his back and landing in the semi-frozen slush of blood and mud that surrounded the cold fire pit.

  “Jesus Christ!” VanDusen shouted from the ground, trying to get to his feet. He wallowed around like a turtle on his back for a while as he tried to turn over. Eventually, he managed to roll over and get an arm out to support himself. But his hand slipped in the red-tinted mud as he tried to stand and he went down once more, this time face-first.

  VanDusen shrieked, “Goddammit, Oscar! Get the fuck over here and give me a friggin’ hand!”

  The silent constable hustled over, reaching his hand down to VanDusen. The chief grabbed the proffered appendage and pulled. But Olsen didn’t have solid footing on the ice either, and when VanDusen yanked with his full weight to stand, he only ended up pulling his equally portly constable down on top of himself. The chief squawked like a duck as the air was knocked out of him.

  Austin had to turn around and pretend to be doing something else for a moment before he burst out laughing at their predicament. Eventually, after several more outbursts of colourful metaphors on VanDusen’s part, the pair found their feet.

  “Son of a bitch!” VanDusen shouted.

  Christine watched Lawless’s Finest waddle back to their snowmobiles, no doubt to find something to wipe the worst of the bloody slurry off of themselves. She turned to Austin and Trip as the two police officers began to clean up, saying perkily, “I think I may have made a new friend!”

  “That’s for sure! And thanks for the comic relief! Larry, Moe and Curly would have been proud. But seriously, you’d better watch your back around them, especially VanDusen,” Austin said.

  “Oh, I will. Don't you worry about me, I've been dealing with assholes like that my entire life.”

  “I can believe it. You handled yourself quite well.” Austin nodded over toward VanDusen, “Maybe next time he’ll think twice about any of the old touchy-feely stuff.” He smiled when he saw VanDusen and his deputy still in the middle of grooming each other like a couple of primates out of a Jane Goodall documentary.

  Finally wiping most of the mud and gore off of their trousers and parkas, the chief and his constable returned to the scene. This time they circumnavigated the muck around the fire pit. Instead, they examined other areas of crimson interest, with VanDusen snapping numerous photographs and Olsen taking samples of the blood they found at various spots around the site.

  Christine picked up the now-bagged casting and stood, holding it up in front of her face for all to see. It was so large, it obscured her entire head, including her hat. She figured the footpad alone was over thirty centimetres across with claw impressions extending another twenty centimetres past the edge of the pad.

  As VanDusen approached to see what she held, Christine thrust the imprint toward his face saying, “This is what attacked the camp!”

  “I don’t see any evidence of an attack,” VanDusen said, looking the casting up and down with a frown. “I see a lot of blood scattered around the area, but that could have come from animals that these guys had hunted illegally, gutted and then skinned.”

  “You know as well as I do that it isn’t hunting season for anything in this area at this time of the year. There is no way that bloo
d is animal blood!” Christine said, frustrated.

  “We don’t know anything of the sort, yet,” VanDusen said. Holding up his bag of samples. He continued, “We’ll get this analysed at our lab and then we’ll make a final determination.” He turned to Austin, “That ‘survivor’ you brought into the hospital is still unconscious, but when he wakes up maybe he can shed some light on this situation. But until you can show me a body, or a piece of one and not some moisture-swelled goddamned footprint,” he pointed at the casting Christine still held up, “this case is on hold, pending further evidence of a crime,” he finished tersely.

  “A crime?” Christine questioned, her brow knitted in confusion. “It’s not a crime scene; it’s the scene of an attack by an unknown predator that might still be hungry for more. You need to alert the public that there’s something out here killing people!”