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Prologue
The hunter stepped into a new world of frigid darkness. At first, his eyes saw nothing but black. Gradually they adapted as shadowy images began to appear in the pre-dawn surroundings. He prided himself in his ability to navigate the long trail to his deer blind without needing a light. His rubber boots made little noise on the frozen ground as he glided down the path like a ghost flowing across the landscape.
As he strode down the trail toward the blind, he went through a mental checklist to ensure he had everything necessary for an all-day sit in the woods. Twenty minutes later, he relaxed inside his wooden deer blind, lighting his propane heater to combat the cold that gripped the structure.
As he waited in dead silence, sipping coffee, the first signs of the emerging daylight began to flash across the darkened sky. Watching the woods come alive in the morning was an incredible sight. Light began to streak across the horizon as it forced the darkness to return to its lair. The animals seemed to notice this immediately, and the silence was broken by the scurrying sound of squirrels and the harsh calling of blue jays seeking a morning meal. As daylight took over, the wind picked up gradually; the woods were silent no more.
The hunter instantly became alert when he saw the first deer of the day emerge from a poplar thicket on his left. He quickly realized it was a doe and fawn working their way back from feeding in a field nearby. Deer sightings always made the day go faster. Later that day, the hunter got ready to check the time on his phone when he saw movement on the far side of an opening 150 yards away. He grabbed his binoculars and focused on a doe sneaking across the back side of the clearing. Right behind the doe stood another deer, and he quickly realized it was a “shooter buck” with at least 8 points on its antlers.
The hunter quickly executed the time-tested shooting drill his father taught him. He first raised his rifle and slid it out the open window. Then he clicked off the safety, centered the crosshairs behind the front shoulder, took a deep breath, exhaled halfway, and slowly squeezed the trigger. He surprised himself when the gun went off, and the shot was perfect.
The hunter exited his blind and slowly walked up toward the deer now lying on the edge of the opening, mere steps from the thicket from which it emerged. He stopped in front of the buck and admired the magnificent animal. He silently said a short prayer his father taught him to say after every deer he harvested.
“Grant me always, wisdom and respect in the pursuit, and keep me humble in the harvest. Please embrace this animal’s spirit. Please bless this gift of meat for my family and friends. Please keep this memory with me forever so every time I remember this hunt, this animal is honored.”
Once he finished the prayer, he took out his flask for the ceremonial “shot on the buck.” He had followed this ritual his entire life to celebrate his success and honor the animal. The strong taste of whiskey filled his mouth and warmed his insides immediately. Next, he pulled out his Havalon hunting knife to dress the deer. He also grabbed his camera for a picture to send to his fellow hunters to secure bragging rights on his great buck.
He always loved the start of deer season and had even more reason to celebrate on this day. His mind rested at ease because he had finally solved a mysterious puzzle churning in his head for weeks. And the best part was he now knew what he had to do. Unfortunately what he didn’t know was today would be the last day of his life!
Chapter one
Three Months Earlier
Jeff Koehler drove very fast down Highway 453, exceeding the speed limit by at least 20 MPH while trying to keep his left leg as elevated as possible. It still bled despite the makeshift bandage he’d crafted from a piece of his flannel shirt. He was mad at himself for being careless with his chainsaw while cutting firewood on the family property, named Roads End Hunting Club.
He had been standing on a log cutting the end of a piece of oak, when he slipped and nicked his leg with the Stihl chainsaw. Within seconds it bled profusely. The bleeding convinced Jeff, who notoriously avoided doctors, to seek medical help immediately. He had no bandage at the camp big enough for a cut like this, so he ripped a piece of his flannel shirt and wrapped it as tight as he could around the bleeding wound. The location of the nearest emergency room was about 90 minutes away in Petoskey. He quickly decided to head for the local doctor in Granite Cove, where he lived, only 20 minutes away. Hopefully, the doctor could stitch him up, and he could avoid a visit to the emergency room.
Jeff arrived in Granite Cove and burst into the doctor’s office. The nurse, Susan Valiant, a long-time employee of Dr. Waymont, quickly realized the sense of urgency. She immediately ushered Jeff into an exam room and told him to remove his jeans while she fetched Dr. Cunningham. “What happened to Dr. Waymont?” Jeff asked Susan.
“Oh, he’s still involved with the practice but is recovering at home following an illness. Fortunately, Dr. Cunningham joined the practice and is handling the patients while he recovers.”
Jeff was slightly embarrassed about his appearance with a ripped shirt and covered in sweat and dirt from the camp. He quickly stripped down to his Tommy John briefs and held the flannel bandage while waiting for Dr. Cunningham. Before exiting, nurse Valiant laid out the implements to clean and stitch the wound.
Within a few minutes, he heard a knock on the door, and Dr. Carrie Cunningham entered. Jeff had never even considered the possibility the new doctor might be female. Carrie Cunningham was a slender woman about 5ft 8in tall. She had medium-length dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail when working. Her hazel eyes accentuated a vibrant smile that lit up the room. Jeff couldn’t help being surprised by the entrance of the attractive doctor.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Cunningham. You must be the guy Susan just told me about who can’t tell his leg from a tree,” she said with a grin.
“Jeff Koehler, Dr. Cunningham, and you must be the sarcastic new doctor that replaced Doc Waymont.”
“I’ve actually been here for over three months,” Carrie replied, “so I’m not that new. I haven’t seen you before. Are you one of those macho guys who feel they never need to see a doctor?”
Jeff smiled and shrugged sheepishly. “I travel a lot with my job as a wildlife photographer. Besides, I think I’ll wait until I see your technique with stitches to decide how often you might see me around here.”
Carrie smiled at the comeback. “Well, I guess I better stitch you up before you bleed all over my office floor. Come on tough guy, place your leg up on the table and remove your high-tech flannel bandage so I can see what’s going on here. You did a pretty good number on your leg. Ever think about wearing chainsaw chaps?” At this point, Jeff realized Dr. Cunningham’s “bedside manner” was definitely not what he expected when he thought his appointment would be with Dr. Waymont.
“Wow, I am a really lucky guy. I have a doctor that doubles as a safety advisor too. What other services do you offer to your patients, Doc? Marriage counseling too?”
With that remark, Carrie’s smile faded. “Sorry, No! Marriage counseling is one service I definitely don’t offer, but I’m pretty good with needles. Let’s get you stitched up. Looks like you’re going to need at least five stitches. Would you like me to first numb the area with a local?”
“No way. If you numb my leg, I can’t critique your work and decide if I ever come back here.” Carrie quickly cleaned the wound with antiseptic. Jeff flinched as the needle pierced his skin for the first stitch.
“Sure you don’t want that local?”
“No, I can take it,” Jeff replied. I love watching a true artist at work. Carry on!”
Within a few minutes, Carrie completed stitching the wound. She proved to be quick and efficient in her movements. Apparently, she
had extensive experience with this sort of thing. It hurt a fair amount while she stitched the cut, but Jeff wouldn’t react to pain after turning down the offer to numb it.
“We need to get you a tetanus shot unless you have had one in the past five years," Dr. Cunningham explained. “I can see from your chart you haven’t had one from this office. Have you, by chance, had a tetanus shot elsewhere?”
“No, I haven’t had any reason to get one. Despite what you might think, I don’t go around carving myself up with a saw on a regular basis.”
“Well hang tight then,” she replied. Susan will be in momentarily and give you the shot along with a prescription for an antibiotic. We’ll have you return in 10 days to check the wound and remove the stitches. If anything changes, or you see any signs of infection, come back in immediately.” As Dr. Cunningham prepared to leave the room, she asked, “So, did I pass the test to keep you on as a patient?”
“Yes, you did, Doc; in fact, I might even come back again next time I stub my toe just to witness a true Picasso at work.”
Carrie smiled and said, “I’ve got to run now. I have a previous commitment I need to keep. Nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too, Doc, and thanks for stitching me up on short notice.”
About five minutes later, Nurse Valiant came in with a needle in hand. “Which arm do you prefer, Mr. Koehler? Whichever arm you choose is likely to hurt for a couple of days.” Jeff got the shot and prescription from Susan and settled the bill before exiting the office.
***
Jeff had just gotten into his truck in the parking lot when he ran into Rich Wrobleski, the landman for Liberty Oil and Gas Company. A landman is a person who works for an oil and gas company dealing directly with landowners to secure drilling leases. Landmen identify high-potential properties to lease, negotiate contracts, and develop customer relationships with lessees. Rich worked exclusively for Liberty with a charter to increase their footprint in Northern Michigan. The main competitor for Liberty was Superior Oil which held the bulk of the most desirable lands under lease. Liberty was a young, innovative company starting to make significant inroads with landowners dissatisfied with Superior Oil.
“Hi, Jeff. How's it going? Are you limping?” Rich asked.
“I did a stupid thing with my chainsaw and cut my leg, Rich. Gotta get home to clean up and get into some decent clothes. How’s your oil business doing?”
