I climbed into the bench seat and settled Oscar at my feet. Heathcliff and Quoth squeezed in next to me. The van smelled of rotten cheese. I fumbled for my seatbelt, only to find two lengths of worn rope. Heathcliff tied his rope together.
Sam laughed. “Sorry, things are a bit tight around here, not much money for repairs, but I figure my clients appreciate the rustic touches. Do you three spend much time in the great outdoors?”
“The three of us work in a bookshop.” Oscar nudged my leg. “I should say, I guess Oscar works there now, too. We’re more into reading about nature than exploring it.”
“Ah, pencil-pushers wanting to get a taste of the wilderness? You read a Bear Grylls book and thought it sounded easy?” Sam grinned as he floored the gas. The van rumbled away from the curb and bounced over the rough gravel road. “We get a lot of your types around here. Don’t worry, I’ll mold you into true wild people.”
I grabbed for the handle as the van hit a particularly large pothole and my head slammed into the roof. “Heathcliff’s wild enough already. He grew up on the moors in Yorkshire. He’s got a bit of experience in the great outdoors.”
“Ah, but he has ever had to fend for himself during the harshest nights of winter, with nothing but his wits and a bowie knife to keep him alive?”
“Yes,” Heathcliff answered.
“Oh, really?” Sam sounded taken aback.
“Well, it was a broadsword I stole from Hindley’s study, but it did the trick in a pinch,” Heathcliff growled. “It makes short work of ferrets. You should add it to your packing list.”
“Um… yeah…” Sam nodded, not sure what to make of Heathcliff. “Ferret-killing broadsword, sure. I’ll look into that.”
We drove past a large, mono-pitch cabin, made of rough-hewn logs. Brightly-colored hammocks dotted a wraparound verandah, and carved signs decorated with loopy handwriting pointed toward accommodation, toilets, and ‘forest hot tub.’ Police tape stretched across the gravel parking lot, blocking the building from the road.
“You’ll have to forgive the disorganization.” Sam’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “That’s our visitor center and Airbnb – off-limits now, so we’ve set up a temporary base a few miles up the road. The police have closed off my usual stomping ground because of an ongoing investigation. Completely unconnected to Wild Oats, of course.”
That has yet to be established, especially if they’ve included your visitor center as part of the crime scene.Suddenly, I didn’t feel so confident about Sam’s innocence. I decided to test him. “We heard some girl killed herself, but I thought it was months ago.”
Sam’s jaw set in a line. “She didn’t kill herself.”
“Do you mean it was an accident?” I held my hand to my mouth. “It wasn’t on this course, was it? What if she was allergic to something she ate?”
“No, it was nothing to do with us,” Sam said quickly. “She came on one of our courses last year, as part of a workplace teambuilding weekend. She ran away from her camp and left a message behind that originally read as a suicide note. We searched every inch of the mountains but didn’t find the body. By the time they called off the search, my Yelp reviews were so terrible that no one wanted to take our courses. All my bookings canceled and I had to lay off all my staff. Then, I had this brainwave – I’ll play off the bad publicity and reinvent this place as a wellness center, with Kate’s story at its heart. We were going to offer yoga, mindfulness, foraging and wild cooking classes – the idea being to offer a place where people who felt like Kate could come and learn to get back to nature, so that maybe a horrible tragedy could be prevented. Two weeks ago, I was scouting the ideal site for our moonlit ritual space when I stumbled upon the body buried in a fallen log. So now, I’m dealing with more bad press – no one wants to go to a murder retreat to get away from their problems, and I’m not even allowed back to the visitor center to lead hikes.” He forced a smile on his face. “But never mind that. We’re going to have a great weekend learning about the culinary wonders offered up by Mother Nature in her rawest state! Tell me, Mina, have you ever drunk tea made from fresh nettles, or made your owncevichefrom fish you caught and gutted yourself? Why, I can’t tell you—”
Sam chatted all the way into the forest, extolling the virtues of a menu of increasingly disgusting-sounding dishes. My stomach growled – if all that was offered was nettle tea and raw fish, I doubted it would be getting much sustenance this weekend.
We pulled into a small clearing where a temporary shed had been set up. Beside it was a small pup tent, and a clothesline of hemp t-shirts and harem pants stretching between two trees.Sam’s sleeping here. Wild Oats must really be struggling.
And it’s all Kate Danvers’ fault.
But would he kill her over it? It didn’t make much sense – Sam might have had reason to be angry with Kate, he might even have wanted to kill her. He had the access and knowledge of poisonous mushrooms necessary to do the deed. But why do it so near his own business and then report the body? All he’d achieved was bringing Wild Oats even closer to ruin.
No, Sam’s innocent. I’m sure of it. Which means we’re back where we started.I tried to keep the disappointment off my face as we stepped out of the van. I glanced around at the empty lot. “We’re the only ones on the course?”
That wasn’t what I wanted. It would be much more difficult to sneak away to see Morrie if Sam was focused on us.
Sam beamed. “You are my sole charges, which means even more personal learning time for you. Ever since Kate Danvers…you know…we haven’t had many bookings. People think this place is haunted or something. But enough about that, it’s time to turn our attention to the fruits of the forest. I want you all to line up and show me your rucksacks.”
We filed out of the car and placed our rucksacks in front of us. Oscar sniffed at the pocket where I’d stashed my emergency Snickers bar, and I backed him away. Heathcliff’s rucksack made a loud CLANG as his whisky bottles clinked together, but at least they hid all the supplies we brought along for Morrie. Sam unlocked the door to the shed and pulled out some plastic bins loaded with compasses and whistles and other random things. “People always forget something essential.”
“Not me.” Heathcliff yanked open the drawstring on his rucksack, drew out his whisky, and took a deep swig.
“You can’t pack those bottles in here.” Sam frowned into his sack. “Or this knife. Or these paperbacks. Did you bringanythingon the list?”
“Only the essentials.” Heathcliff shoved the whisky bottle into his belt. Sam opened his mouth to argue but one glare from Heathcliff and he snapped his mouth shut.
“Right, well… I can give you the supplies you need.” Sam dumped an armload of gear in front of him. “I’ll tell you how the weekend is going to work. First, you’ll need to pay attention during my safety demonstration, as I teach you how to use all the items in your rucksack, and what to do if you find yourself separated from the group.”
“Jump for joy?” Heathcliff muttered so only I could hear.
“Then, we’re going to hike about five miles into the forest. It will take several hours, because we’ll be stopping along the way to collect different types of plants, insects, and edible roots, and hopefully lay some traps—”
