making any noise. Glancing to her left, she saw a fat tree trunk. Decent cover if necessary.
More rustling headed up the trail—right for Bree.
She held her breath as a dark shape rounded the bend and stepped into a ray of sunlight.
A black bear.
Bree froze. The bear stopped. It was probably on the way to the river too, and she’d surprised it.
Trying to be quiet had been the absolute worst thing she could have done. Black bears were shy. They didn’t like people. If she’d made plenty of noise coming down the trail, the bear would have likely gone in the opposite direction.
This animal was lean, thin, possibly only a month out of hibernation. It would be hungry, but black bears were rarely aggressive unless they felt threatened. Or they had cubs.
It’ll be fine.
Two small black shapes moved at the bear’s feet. Bree spared them a quick glance.
Cubs.
This was a mama bear, and Bree was only twenty-five feet away from her babies.
Mama bear rose onto her back legs. Her nose lifted as she tested the air. The big head turned, and the animal sniffed in the direction of the river. She’d caught the scent of a competing odor.
The area might be trying to become a suburb, but right in front of Bree was a sign that much of it was still untamed. This was not the first bear she’d seen. Until her parents had died when Bree was eight, she’d run half-wild in the woods of Grey’s Hollow. She knew enough not to run now. Fleeing would engage the animal’s prey instinct.
People who ran from bears got caught.
But as much as her brain knew what she needed to do, her body was primed for a fight-or-flight response. Unfortunately, both of those options sucked.
Bree raised her hands and spread out her arms, trying to appear larger. She took a slow, easy step backward, and said in a loud, mostly calm voice, “Easy, there. I won’t hurt you or your babies.”
Bree’s Glock felt like a peashooter, but it was all she had. Her can of bear spray was sitting uselessly in the back of her vehicle. A black bear could charge at thirty miles per hour. Her chances of stopping the bear with well-placed, meaningful shots during that panicked nanosecond weren’t good. And she did not want to shoot this animal. Bree’s heart sprinted in her chest, but she forced her feet to move like molasses. She could hear little but the desperate pounding of her own pulse in her ears.
The bear dropped to all fours, slapping the ground as her front paws landed. Huffing, the animal took two quick steps forward, then retreated.
Bree slid one foot backward, then the other. The bear swung her head in a low arc. Bree took another step back, putting one more precious foot of space between her and the animal.
Above, she heard a siren approach. The bear heard it too and pivoted in the opposite direction. She retreated at a run, with her cubs at her heels.
The breath left Bree’s lungs in one hard whoosh, making her light-headed.
She’d been lucky. So lucky.
On shaky legs, she turned to walk up the trail to the road. She’d wait for backup—and bear spray—before searching the riverbank. Rocks shifted under her feet. The ground gave way, and Bree plunged down the slope. Struggling to keep her feet aimed downhill, she smacked into a sapling and slid between the trunks of two larger trees. She landed in a heap at the bottom of the slope. Loose dirt and small rocks settled around her.
The rocky riverbank was just ahead. Bree got to her feet and brushed some dirt from her pants.
An odor drifted toward her on the breeze, unsettling her stomach, and she knew what had attracted the bear.
She walked onto the rocks that lined the waterway. She had a clear view of the entire bank all the way to the bridge high above. Ahead, something red peeked out from behind a boulder on the shoreline, then retreated.
Her stomach knotted.
She quickened her steps. Rounding the big rock, she stared down. Knowing what she was going to find didn’t make the discovery easier. In the rocks and mud at the river’s edge was the body of a woman wearing a red rain jacket and jeans. The bear had picked up the scent. Black bears will eat anything from bugs to grass to berries—to bodies.
She reached for her phone and called Deputy Collins. “I found her.”