God, when was she going to get past this? She should be safe here in Alaska, but that jittery feeling in her nervous system didn’t seem to know that.
She shoved her worries aside to survey Lachlan’s office. Plastic totes filled with what looked like lab samples were piled against one wall. A 3D map of the Wrangell mountain range was tacked up on another. Windows on two sides looked out on pillowy landscapes of snow.
A large desk—more like a table with a plywood top—took up the center of the room. It held microscopes, two laptops, a pile of scientific journals, a bowl filled with pens and pencils, a calculator, a plastic honey bear, a nugget of gold, a sewing kit, a crocheted scarf, a vintage black-and-white photo of a glacier, a book about the Wrangell Mountains, a long-lens camera, and…lots more, but she was distracted by Lachlan spinning a wheeled chair over to her.
“Have a seat, I’ll hunt down my maps.” He went over to the corner, where a number of long cardboard tubes were propped. They were carefully labelled in black Sharpie, and it didn’t take him long to find the one he wanted.
He brought it to the table, shook his head at the mess there, and instead tacked it over the map that was already mounted on the wall. To Maura, it looked like a mess of squiggly lines overlaid over areas colored light green and lighter yellow and white.
“See here, where the lines are close together?” He pointed to an especially dense area of the map. “That’s a mountain. The lines indicate elevation. The tiny blue meandering lines are creeks or rivers. Waterways, basically.”
He looked closely at the map, then tapped it. “This is where you live, I believe.”
Maura got to her feet to see it up close. Nothing about the spot he was pointing to rang a bell. “If you say so. Doesn’t the map show houses?”
“No, it just shows terrain. You said the animals were heading southwest?”
“According to Pinky, yes.”
He traced a line across the map. “They could have been heading toward Smoky Lake.”
“Are you saying they were thirsty? What do animals drink in the winter? Snow?”
“They can usually find water easily enough from seeps and springs. Birds drink from dripping icicles once the sun hits them. Bennie Thomas keeps a water trough clear of ice, and he’s found moose drinking from it, even a lynx once. They have their ways.”
“So they wouldn’t have needed to go all the way to Smoky Lake for water.”
“Very unlikely.” He traced another line going the other direction from Pinky’s place, to the east. “If they were running from something, they’d be coming from this general area. Or even farther. It’s hard to say.”
“What’s there? Why does nothing have a name on this map?”
He gave her a one-sided smile. “Most of the places out here don’t have names. But this up here,” he showed her on the map, “this is known as Wind Valley. I suppose the animals could have come down from there. It’s very inhospitable territory. Steep, like a wind tunnel. The wind just roars through there.”
“So maybe the animals got tired of all that wind?” She found herself very curious about the mysterious Wind Valley. “Have you been out there?”
“No, my work is mostly around Smoky Lake. It sits just below the Korch Glacier, and that’s where the jökulhlaup happens. That’s where the earthquake was centered. Did you feel it?”
“Of course. Pinky’s dog jumped up on my lap and nearly smothered me.” She squinted at a spot on the map adjacent to Wind Valley. “But isn’t that area part of the glacier too?”
“Yes. Good observation. It’s completely inaccessible there, but…” He cocked his head, gazing at the map, seeming lost in thought for such a long time that she thought about poking him in the ribs.
“So no one’s been there?” she prompted.
He snapped back to attention. “Sorry. I honestly don’t know anyone who’s been to Wind Valley. Even the adventure hikers generally head this way.” He tapped the map. “Toward Ice Falls, the ice field, these mountains here. I don’t know of any road to Wind Valley. It’s completely isolated.”
For a moment, she fantasized about living there, all alone, away from any possible threat. Well, aside from the ferocious wind.
“But it’s a good two to three miles from Wind Valley to Pinky’s house. Those animals could have been coming from much closer. Maybe a new predator moved into the neighborhood and they decided to move on.”
He released the top tack from the wall and the map rolled itself back up. He eased it back into its storage tube. “Sorry, I guess that wasn’t very helpful after all.”
“No, that’s not true, I appreciate you giving me the lay of the land.” She smiled at him warmly. “At least you don’t think I’m crazy.”
“Crazy?” He looked at her, puzzled. “Why would I think that?”
“Because it sounds like an Alfred Hitchcock movie?”
He laughed. “Do you know how many scientists are told they’re crazy when they first propose their theories? It happens all the time. Personally, I’ve banned that word from my vocabulary.”