As I got closer, I realized what it was.
A camera.
I pulled my Leatherman out of my pocket and cut the black zip ties that anchored it to the tree trunk.
It was small, probably the size of a book, but there was no doubt about what it was. The problem was that it shouldn’t have been here.
I pocketed the Leatherman and jumped down, and once I righted myself, I handed it to her.
“What is this?”
“It’s a game camera. And not a cheap one from Cabela’s. This is professional stuff.”
“Did one of our guys put it here?”
“No. We have cameras at our facilities and along the Golden Road so we can monitor for obstructions or danger, but ours are orange. It makes them easy to spot when the batteries need to be changed out. We don’t cut out here because of the bats, so there’s no need.”
Her face fell, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “Should we spread out and look for more?”
“We should stay together, but let’s keep an eye out.” I handed her the monocular, then convinced her to let me continue carrying her. As I hiked ahead, she scanned the trees, and we tried to piece together what we had found.
A quarter of a mile or so later, she jolted. “Found one,” she said, hopping down. With a hand around my forearm, she dragged me off the trail.
This one was even higher. There was no way I could climb up and get it without gear. So I turned on my phone and took a few photos of the surrounding area, hoping they’d help us find the spot again. I had no GPS tags with me because this wasn’t a work trip, and we had no reception out here. I had a sat phone, but that was only for making calls for our pickup.
“Who put them here?” she wondered out loud.
“I don’t know. No one comes out here. There isn’t even road access.”
“What about ATVs?”
“Yes. There are plenty of trails. But we don’t harvest this segment anymore. This area is where the bats nest. No one has cut trees up here since they were declared endangered in 1995.”
“Do you think…?” She worried her bottom lip.
“Yes,” I said. She didn’t have to finish the sentence. We were on the same wavelength. The wheels in my mind were turning, and none of my suspicions were good. My forest, a place I had felt completely safe since childhood, now seemed to be filled with hidden danger. The thought that we might not be alone out here filled me with anxiety.
“We need to get back to camp and call Finn,” I said, hoisting her onto my back again.
“Are we in danger?” she gasped.
“I don’t think so, but this isn’t good. We’ve got to get back and call the FBI.”
Chapter 23Chloe
For several days, I’d spent the time between vomiting fits reading everything I could find about pregnancy. This child did not fuck around. Most food was repulsive, and sometimes even water made me gag. Celine assured me this was a good sign, that there really was a growing baby in there. I was dubious. It seemed I was possessed by a demon or maybe one of those viruses that turned people into zombies.
And I was no closer to figuring out what was going on in the forest. I’d been avoiding Gus since our excursion last week. We’d called the FBI, and they had come up to investigate, finding dozens of cameras and other recording equipment in my woods.
The unknowns and the concerns were making me feel even sicker. Had we been in danger out there? Were my employees in danger? How was this not over yet? The FBI had been investigating for two years. One would think that they’d have caught the bad guys already.
Not to mention I’d met with my partners this morning, and there had been talk of a potential acquisition in Alabama. The last thing I wanted to do was fly down there in August, but I took notes and tried to hold back the vomit until I was off the Zoom call.
Given how things were going in Lovewell, I wasn’t leaving anytime soon. And since Hebert Timber belonged to me alone, that meant I had to balance it against my portfolio of other holdings and projects. A few months ago, I was certain it was totally doable, but that was before I was forty and pregnant.
Now I wanted to curl up on the wicker chair on my screened-in porch and stare at the lake while reading one of Celine’s spicy books.
Instead, I needed to head to Orono, or I was going to be late. I grabbed my phone and keys and slipped on a pair of sneakers, then headed toward the door.
After a lot of research, I’d found a wonderful ob-gyn. Orono wasn’t exactly close, but the drive was manageable, and the town was a healthy distance from both Lovewell and Heartsborough. The last thing I needed were rumors spreading like wildfire.
The facility was tranquil and clean, with pamphlets displayed everywhere, formula samples galore, and an abundance of information about car seat safety. According to the reviews I’d found, the birth outcomes were excellent, and they had a mix of midwives and doctors.
The waiting room was filled with happy couples and women with cute bellies, these occupants making me acutely aware that I was alone.
Celine would have come with me, but it was summer, and she had a lot on her plate with the girls and Julian. Plus, this was just routine. I’d handled a lot harder things alone.
I rubbed my temples and scrolled through emails while I waited. I knew I was an ass for not telling Gus, but when I’d scheduled the next few months’ worth of appointments, blood work, and tests, I’d only sent him calendar invites for the important ones. Like the ten-week ultrasound next month. That was the kind of thing he could come to.
Although it felt shitty, I told myself it was for self-preservation. I could only deal with so much of his presence. Not only because he was becoming more and more irresistible, but because I was doing my best to avoid discussing the future. I couldn’t keep this up forever, but I needed some space from him to decide where and how I was going to have this baby.
The minute a woman became pregnant, she was inundated with crucial decisions and important things to consider. Prenatal vitamins, doctors, delivery plans, activity levels. The complicated relationship with my baby daddy and the possibility that I’d have to travel across the country shortly were pretty far down the list.
We’d gotten along so well lately, and I didn’t have the energy to fight him over our child. I just needed to work and gestate and minimize all the other drama.
And I only had so much time between running a timber company and puking my guts up every few hours. If only my situation were simple. I wasn’t doing this alone, exactly, but I also wasn’t doing it with a husband or a long-term partner. What were the rules here? And how the hell would I make it right for my child?
