October skies

CHAPTER 80

Sunday

Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

Rose looked up at him as he stooped inside her tent. Still snuggled up in her sleeping bag, she had her laptop on and was staring intently at the screen.

‘Jules, there’s something that isn’t right.’

He squatted down beside her. ‘Rose, I need to-’

A slither of bright morning sunlight streamed across the floor and into her eyes. ‘Close the zip — I can’t see anything.’

He reached round and pulled it down.

‘Jules, you have to see this,’ she said, turning the laptop round so he could see the screen.

She moved the mouse across to the tab of another image. ‘I got an email back yesterday morning before we set off to meet Grace at the camp. I just didn’t have the time to read it and open the attachment before we set off.’ She waved her hand at the unnecessary digression. ‘Anyway, there’s a small museum, well… it’s nothing more than a photographic archive in Fort Kearny.’

Julian shook his head impatiently. ‘Rose, look can this wait a-’

‘Jules, just listen! It’s an archive of portraits taken of groups of settlers on the eve of departure. It seems nearly everyone at the point of stepping out into the wilderness had one of these portraits done.’

‘So?’

She clicked the mouse button on the image tab and a muddy brown portrait of a group of people, standing proudly in front of a wagon, filled the screen.

‘They had one image in their database of a certain Preston party, stepping out in 1856, which they kindly sent me.’

Julian studied the group portrait; several dozen men and a few women, all of the men bearded, the women wearing bonnets that modestly covered their hair. Each had a face betraying grim determination, and a readiness for everything nature could throw at them. Clearly not the entire group, just those elders senior enough to warrant being in the photograph. To one side stood another man, tall and gaunt.

‘My God!’ he whispered. ‘That’s Preston?’

Rose nodded. ‘And who do you think he looks a helluva lot like?’

‘Oh, shit, yes, he does,’ he whispered.

Shepherd.

It was the eyes — unmistakably deep and intense, the distinct brow above and the long, clearly defined jaw. She flipped the screen of the laptop down. ‘I’m really not comfortable with this, Jules, getting so into bed with this guy-’

Julian raised a finger to his lips to shush her, and then spoke quietly. ‘I think we’re way past not feeling comfortable.’

‘What do you mean?’

Julian pulled off his glasses and wiped the lenses, a stress habit he was vaguely aware of, but he felt too distracted to correct himself right now. Rose studied him with a growing expression of concern. ‘Julian?’

‘Shepherd is Preston’s descendant.’

Rose nodded. ‘Yes. That means he’ll want to bury this story.’

He looked at her. ‘I think we might need to leave.’

‘Leave?’

‘As in drop everything, no explanations, just leave.’

‘Julian? Why… what…?’

‘It’s something our friend, Dr Griffith, said,’ he whispered. ‘Something he said that’s really, really spooked me… and I want to get out of here, like, right now.’

‘Julian? You’re spooking me now.’

‘Get dressed. I’ll explain this all later on.’

Julian pulled the zip down slowly and peered outside. There was now no sign of Shepherd in the ditch, nor Agent Barns, although he wondered whether the ID badge was genuine, and whether Barns was really his name.

‘Shit, where are they?’

He turned round. Rose was dressed now, ready and crouching anxiously behind him.

‘Where’s Grace?’ she whispered. And then as an afterthought, ‘Grace has a gun.’

‘I can’t see her… or them.’

‘Jules? I said Shepherd might want to bury this, that’s all. Why the hell are you so jumpy all of a sudden?’

He turned round. ‘I was being followed in London, Rose. I just recognised that guy Barns. I think he was tailing me. I think he might even have broken into my apartment and bugged the phone.’

She froze. ‘Seriously?’

‘And now Sean’s dead,’ he added, ‘killed the day after I had lunch with him.’

Rose’s jaw slowly dropped open. ‘Oh fuck.’

He nodded.

‘So, what are we going to do? We can’t just run out into the woods without our stuff — we’ll get lost, and this isn’t the time of year to go doing that.’

‘Rose, consider where we are right now. We’re alone in the deepest, darkest wilderness with a man who stands to lose everything if we emerge from these woods alive with this story. I can’t be a hundred per cent sure that Sean’s stabbing is linked, but you know what? I’m not prepared to hang around here a moment longer and, you know… ask.’

‘Jules, I’m scared.’

‘Me too.’

She placed a hand on his back. ‘Okay, I’ll go with the leave idea.’

‘Right.’ He peered out again. ‘We’re going to climb out very calmly and casually make like we’re going to the trees for a toilet visit, okay?’

‘What about Grace?’

‘She’s out there collecting firewood. We’ll try to find her and explain we need to make a sharp exit.’

‘All right.’

‘Ready?’

‘Not really.’

Julian lowered the zip the rest of the way, pushed himself out through the flap of the tent and stepped into the morning sunlight, dazzled and blinking. He stood up slowly, stretching and yawning, half-aware the whole routine looked pathetically theatrical.

Rose stood up beside him, shielding her eyes from the morning glare. ‘Where are they?’ she muttered quietly.

‘We’re right here,’ replied Shepherd flatly, standing to the side of the tent.