Secrets in the Acadia

Copyright © 2025 by A.J. Rivers

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Frantic shouts and crashing debris shattered the tranquil, if mundane, morning in Glencoe, Maryland. Two large black bears had ventured out of Acadia Forest and into the heart of town, and they were on a rampage unlike any ever witnessed by onlookers. They had made their way onto Main Street. People scattered in all directions, taking cover in shops and some running away towards their homes.

The first bear was massive. It stood on its hind legs and roared as it swiped a paw at Jeff Thompson’s prized, fully restored 1967 Mustang. Cherry-red paint peeled away, and gashes opened in the metal underneath. Jeff watched in horror from the front window of Thompson’s Tales only a few yards away as the bear latched onto the side mirror and ripped it from the car.

The other bear, smaller but equally as fierce in its aggression, snarled and slung its head side to side as it barreled toward the yard of Mrs. Hager’s large, historic home, which was surrounded by a short wooden fence. Mrs. Hager’s two schnauzers, who had been barking toward the commotion on the street, bolted toward the porch, yelping in terror as the bear hit the fence, bounced back, and shook its head. It backed up a pace and rammed into the fence again. A good-sized portion of the fence splintered into pieces, and the bear swiped at the back end of the older, slower dog.

Mrs. Hager opened the front door, saw what was happening, let out a shrill scream, and called for her beloved pups. One schnauzer zipped between her legs and into the house; the other wasn’t as lucky, and Mrs. Hager clutched her chest as the bear turned its attention toward her with blood staining its muzzle. She slammed the door when the bear swiped a mighty paw across the ground and snorted.

Screams and roars drew the smaller bear back to Main Street. It left a bloody track on the pavement as evidence of its most recent kill. The larger bear had shattered the diner’s wide front window and was inside rummaging through overturned tables and chairs, snatching food, swiping debris, and roaring at nothing. The people had funneled to the back of the diner and gone out the back door.

Mary Beth Banner held her crying six-month-old son, Tyler, tight to her chest as she sprinted toward the post office. The Whitsons had been walking hand-in-hand, slowly making their way to the senior center for their daily dose of socializing when the bears appeared. Mrs. Whitson gripped her cane and stumbled as her husband pulled her behind a dumpster and helped her hide.

Main Street, usually a bustling and peaceful area, was in chaos. Screams still pierced the air as the bears moved down the street with alarming speed and ferocity. The larger bear focused its rage on a small pickup parked at the cross street. It stood, placing its paws near the top of the cab, and pushed. The truck rocked on its frame, which seemed to infuriate the bear further. It shoved and bellowed until the smaller bear took up arms in the fight against the innocent vehicle. They shoved in tandem until the truck flipped onto its passenger side. The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass echoed off the buildings.

Across the street, a motion-activated set of double doors squeaked and squealed their way to the fully open position. Behind them, Tommy Johnson fought to get them closed again, his eyes trained on the bears and filled with fear as he fumbled. There were customers in the grocery store, and he was frantic to protect them.

With the doors shut, and the motion-activated functions disabled, Tommy fled toward the back of the store, shouting for the customers to get into the storage area.

The bears started across the street toward Briarwood Grocery as the first police cruiser sped onto the scene. The officer accelerated toward the bears and booped his siren to draw their attention. It was Wednesday; his mother and sister were in the grocery to catch the week’s new sales.

The larger bear turned to the cruiser, opened its maw, and tried to chomp down on the hood. Officer Jenkins reversed, jerking the bear three feet before it let go and went into vicious attack mode for his transgression. Jenkins called for more backup. He was going to need more than the two rookies who were already on their way. They needed someone with a tranquilizer gun; maybe two or three. He told Linda to call the forest rangers in, to call the National Guard, to call the FBI, to call the damn President, to call someone.

Jenkins switched to his loudspeaker and urged everyone to get inside, shut windows, doors, and remain quiet until the situation was under control. He didn’t really think he needed to tell anyone that, but it made him feel better; like he was doing something useful besides pissing off the bigger of the two rampaging animals.

As he backed slowly up the street, he looked to the sides, assessing the damage already done. That’s how he saw the Whitsons huddling behind the dumpster. He reversed until they were out of sight. He flipped on his lights and reversed toward a less populated area, hoping to draw the bears in that direction. Only the largest kept tracking him and viciously attacking the front of his cruiser. The smaller bear swatted a ten-speed against the brick wall of the post office before turning to the big blue post box at the edge of the sidewalk.

At the edge of Main Street, a part that marked the end of the town proper, a small group of onlookers had gathered at what they thought was a safe distance, their phones raised and capturing the destruction.

With panic in his voice, Jenkins raised dispatch again. “When the hell is someone with a tranq going to arrive?” he demanded.

The radio crackled as if Linda had keyed in but didn’t speak. After several grueling seconds, she came on and told Jenkins to keep doing whatever he could safely do to protect as many people as possible but not to shoot the bears. It would only anger them further. Someone was on the way to assist.

The bear charged the cruiser. Jenkins braced, expecting another impact at the grill area. Someone to his right screamed. He looked in that direction, and a young woman bounced up on her toes, pointing furiously to Jenkins’ other side. Jenkins motioned for her and the two she stood with to get away. She pointed and yelled something that he couldn’t make out. As he turned to see what she was pointing at, the bear launched at his driver’s side door, and the glass broke inward. Shards landed in his lap, skittered across the dash, and pelted the side of his face.

For a split second, he was taken by pure panic and instinct to survive. He reacted by stepping on the gas, and backed into a delivery truck parked at the side of the road. His tires squealed as he hit the gas again. The bear, its fur glistening, its eyes wild, started for the windowless door. A breath before it reached him, Jenkins came to his senses, dropped the gearshift into drive, and hit the gas.

In the rearview, the bear stood on its hind feet and bellowed in his direction. When it dropped back to all fours, it lumbered toward the brutalized car with determination.

An older model Chevy Blazer skidded to a stop thirty feet in front of Jenkins. The passenger door flew open, and Dr. Nathan Holden, Glencoe’s wildlife specialist, leaped out of the vehicle armed with a tranquilizer gun.

The situation was bad. Nate had never seen such a chaotic scene of destruction and rage orchestrated by black bears. The phone-camera crowd had moved forward by fits and starts, vying for a good angle, no doubt for their YouTube and TikTok followers. Nate didn’t look back at them, but kept his eyes on the bears. He held up a hand and motioned the crowd back, shouting for them to move slowly and quietly away from the scene.

The large bear, catching Dr. Holden’s movements, growled menacingly and charged. Nate fired a dart, hitting the bear in the front of its shoulder. The crazed animal roared in pain and confusion, grabbed twice at the dart with its teeth, finally seized it and dropped it to the ground. It swayed on its feet, but headed for Nate again. He backed around the Blazer calmly, his years of experience guiding his every move. The bear closed the distance, and showed no sign of laying down. Nate fired again. The dart hit nearly the same spot. This time, the bear bit at his shoulder and then slumped limply to the ground.

The smaller bear, its muzzle and paws coated with fresh blood, ran toward the Blazer. Unbridled fury shone from its gaze as it headed straight for the doctor. Nate took two steps away from the vehicle, putting more distance between him and the bear, pulled the trigger, and continued to swiftly move to the side as the bear progressed.

After ten feet, the bear swung drunkenly from one side to the other, stumbled, and fell. It continued to growl and its paws twitched threateningly. As Nate moved closer, its eyes followed him. With a half-dose more of the tranquilizer, the smaller bear was out for the count, too.

Jenkins stood between the cruiser door and the cruiser, adjusting his hat as he took in the scene.

Dr. Holden motioned to him. “Come help us get them ready for transport.”

“Are they asleep?”

Walt Johnson, the gruff older man who helped the doctor a few days a week, stepped out of the Blazer’s driver side. “Oh, heck, son. Get on over here. They’ll be sleeping like babies for the next few hours.” He went to the back and put up the gate.

Jenkins made his way over. “You sure they’re out, Nate?”

Dr. Holden chuckled and nodded. “Yes. And if you keep running that hat back and forth like that, you’re going to rub a bald spot. Calm down. They’re sleeping, and they’ll sleep for a few hours. Just like Walt said. You direct him as he backs the truck over. We need to get the smaller one in that cage. Alcott is bringing over the hauler with the bigger cage.”

Jenkins turned to his task as Walt began backing to them. “Where you taking them?”

“I’ll take them back to my place for observation. Something wasn’t right about the way they were acting.”

“Your place? You can do that?” Jenkins’ eyes went wide.

“Not my house. We’re taking them over to the animal control office so we can try to figure out what caused this rampage.”

“I ain’t ever seen black bears do anything like this,” Jenkins said. “And I’ve seen my fair share of ‘em up close and personal way back when I lived down in Tennessee. They’re like a pandemic down there.”

Walt clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to push him forward. “Jenkins, young man, you talk like you’re an old-timer.”

“I’m old enough to know black bears don’t act like this.” He pointed to the unconscious bear in front of them.

“Gentlemen?” Dr. Holden motioned to the task at hand.

By the time Ranger Chip Alcott arrived with the hauler, the three men had loaded the largest bear into the cage and secured it.

Alcott used the lift and winch to move the cage to the hauler while the men readied the second cage for the smaller bear.

“Doc, what caused them to do this? Somebody taunt them, hurt them, or you think they have rabies or something?” Alcott asked, crossing his arms.

“I can’t say without tests, Chip. I have no idea what would cause them to go on a rampage like this. Never seen anything like it.”

Mrs. Hager stepped outside to her porch. “Jenkins, is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jenkins said, moving toward her so she could see him better. “It’s safe now, and don’t worry, I’ll have somebody come by and see about that fence for you.”

She wiped her face and sniffed loudly. “Nasty bear killed my Sandy.” She pointed to the mutilated pup in the yard.

“Don’t do anything,” Jenkins said. “Nate, come over here. See this.”

Nate walked over, disturbed by Mrs. Hager’s emotional state and the frantic tone of Jenkins’ voice. Sometimes Jenkins overreacted, but he was young. Twenty-five was young enough to still let his immediate emotions get a little out of hand in high-tension situations, though, and Nate tried to overlook it.

“What’s up?” Nate asked, following Mrs. Hager’s pointing. “Oh, no.”

“Can I bury my Sandy, Nate? Is it safe now?” Mrs. Hager asked in a watery voice.

“I need to examine him, Mrs. Hager. I’ll help you bury him afterward.”

“Why do you need to examine him? He’s dead. That bear mauled him to death,” she cried.

“It’s part of the investigation into what went wrong here today, ma’am.”

“What went wrong? Are you dense? Two bears went on a killing spree; they destroyed half the town. They would have killed people if they could have gotten to them. Oh god, they didn’t, did they? Kill anyone, I mean.”

“No, ma’am.” Nate turned to Jenkins. “If you’ll help Walt and Chip calm everyone in town, I’ll help Mrs. Hager with Sandy.”

Jenkins agreed and walked away. Another cruiser pulled in at the post office as Nate stepped over the broken pieces of fence and toward the remains of the schnauzer.

Ranger Chip Alcott was in his office filling out paperwork for overtime hours for two of his workers. It was a headache for anyone who was already understaffed to be approved for overtime. If it wasn’t approved, it was likely that the workers would walk off. Alcott couldn’t afford to lose two rangers. Not with Acadia Forest in peak visitor season. With five rangers, there weren’t enough. With three, it would be impossible to maintain the areas properly for the safety of the visitors.

The scanner crackled to life. Dispatch at the Glencoe Sheriff’s Department alerted the deputies and sheriff of an emergency call from Acadia Forest. It was Pastor Jamie Rivers. He and a group of youths from the church had been hiking and found two dead bodies out past the main campground.

Alcott dropped the paperwork and pulled off his reading glasses. He dropped them on top of the papers as he shoved his hat onto his head. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, waiting to hear all of the alert.

“Pastor says the bodies are torn to pieces, and the kids are terrified,” Linda Collins said in her trademark monotone calmness.

Alcott went to his old, reliable 1985 Bronco, radioed the sheriff, and headed straight to the scene. The sheriff and his people would arrive when he could gather them all into his Blazer and get there. The cruisers wouldn’t even get close to the site, and Sheriff Carter would have to get the medical examiner and his detective. Alcott knew he could make it to the scene and ensure the safety of the kids quicker than the sheriff could.

Alcott arrived on the scene to find a group of teenagers huddled by a large pine tree. Some of them were crying, others stared around as if in shock. Before he stepped out of the vehicle, he knew those poor kids had found the bodies.

The local youth minister from Grace Fellowship Church in town stood near the group, worry etching his face with deep lines. He walked away from the group as Alcott parked.

“Pastor,” Alcott said when he got closer. He tilted his head toward the group of kids. “They see the bodies?”

Pastor Rivers sighed heavily. “I’m afraid so. We all did. Terrible. Just awful.” He glanced to his left, in the opposite direction from the kids.

“Are the kids okay? You call their parents yet? Where are the bodies, Pastor?”

“They will be. In time. Some of the parents should have already been here. Are you the only one coming? I called 911; I thought the police would come. I’m not sure we should go near the scene again.”

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Alcott said. He had gone to school with Jamie Rivers and took the path of familiarity in the situation to calm the distraught man. “I know my way around crime scenes.”

Pastor Rivers nodded with a slightly detached expression. He was in shock, too. He kept looking to his left, off into the woods.

“I take it they are over the rise just there.” Alcott pointed and shifted his hat back on his head.

“It’s bad, Chip. I don’t want to go back over there. Took me half an hour to get the kids back in a group and calmed down enough to call the police. I think I should probably stay with them.”

Alcott patted the pastor’s shoulder. “You’re right, Pastor. Point the police and the medical examiner in the right direction when they get here, would you?”

“Of course. How long before they get here?”

Alcott looked at his watch. “Probably another ten minutes. You tend to those kids. Seems they need it pretty badly right now.”

Alcott set off in the direction of the bodies. What he didn’t expect was just how far from the group he would have to walk to reach the scene. He was expecting a couple hundred feet, but it took him almost fifteen minutes to reach the campsite by following the well-trampled trail. The kids had apparently scattered in panic, running through the underbrush, breaking limbs, stripping some of the leaves, and crushing the grasses. He couldn’t blame them, and it made finding the scene easier. All he had to do was follow the path that looked like it had been made by stampeding horses.

The campsite had been laid on a flat of land between two majestic white pines and in front of a large outcrop of rocks. The proximal landscape dwarfed the large tent, making it look like one a child might use.

It was a scene of destruction and chaos. The tent and camping gear were torn apart. Fabric strips were scattered. Poles were bent; some broken, and thrown around. Burned logs from the firepit, along with the ashes were strewn and spread around the site. Backpacks, clothes, and cooking utensils were strewn across the ground.

Alcott stood several yards from the perimeter of the site, his heart kicking up some speed as he surveyed the scene. Just beyond the main campsite, there was a clearing that was in a little dip of the land. The sun shot rays from behind the slowly moving clouds and washed that area in brightness.

Even from his distant point, Alcott saw the body lying prone, fully exposed, and lifeless. His stomach churned as he skirted the perimeter. The smell of blood was strong before he reached the body.

“Chip,” a deep man’s voice echoed through the forest. “Chip, wait a minute.”

Peering into the distance, Alcott saw Sheriff John Carter making his way through some dense foliage toward him. They made eye contact, and Alcott raised a hand.

“I got Miller and Dr. Stephanie Dean from the ME’s office with me. Just hold on a second.”

Alcott took a deep breath of annoyance at being stalled and immediately regretted it. He coughed.

The sheriff made it to Alcott and removed his hat to wipe at the sweat on his forehead and face. “I left Deputy Parker with Pastor Rivers and those kids. He said you went on ahead.” He turned to Miller who was helping Dr. Dean across a large, moss-covered log. “Anytime, you two. Daylight’s burning and I’m stretched thin today. Get a move on.”

Dr. Dean shot him a scathing look before pulling her hand from Miller’s. “I didn’t exactly have time to change into my hiking gear, Sheriff.” She struggled to hold her shoulder bag and the case with her tools above the logs and stumps and rocks as she traversed the wild terrain.

Miller outpaced her easily and stopped ten feet ahead of Alcott. Mark Miller was known to be sharp, quick-thinking, unwavering in his commitment to keeping the community safe, but he was rougher to like than Sheriff Carter. He was gruff, rarely spoke, and had little trust in anyone. With others in a position of authority, he was a jerk. Some called it a chip on his shoulder. Alcott called it being a pick-me guy. He had to be the best at everything in everyone’s eyes.

“Where’s her husband?” Miller asked. “I heard it was a man and a woman. Probably husband and wife.”

“I haven’t made it far enough to know, Detective Miller,” Alcott answered flatly. He turned and started walking.

“I don’t need you to show me the way, Alcott. I can see her plain as you can.”

“We’re working together here, Miller,” Sheriff Carter said. “Act like it.”

“Don’t trample the scene, Alcott,” Miller said, rushing to catch up to him.

Alcott ignored the younger man and kept his pace and his distance from the scene.

The ground on which the woman was sprawled sported rocks and weeds in equal measure. Alcott looked back toward the campsite. “I’d say it’s at least thirty feet from where they were camping.”

“And she’s been thrashed about by a big animal, from the looks of it,” Sheriff Carter noted.

“That blood trail looks like it began at the firepit,” Miller said. He stepped carefully and made his way to the far side of the wide swath of blood in the dirt and grass. He followed it to the firepit and raised his hand. “Right beside it, actually,” he called, his voice echoing.

Alcott had moved closer to the body. Without touching anything, he saw multiple bite marks. Her hair was matted with blood, and forest debris stuck to it. One arm had been broken and lay bent at an impossible angle. A chunk had been ripped from her side, exposing ribs.

“Jesus,” Sheriff Carter said, removing his hat again and lowering his head. “What the hell, Alcott?”

“I don’t know, Sheriff. I’ve never seen anything like this. Never.”

“Was it bears, or was it something else? What about those two browns from West Virginia? You think maybe they did this?”

“I don’t know. I’ll get hold of Game and Wildlife over there and check the location tags.” Although he desperately wanted to, he could not tear his gaze from the dead woman.

Dr. Dean arrived, huffing for breath. She set her bag and case on the ground carefully. “Oh my god,” she said, looking at the body for the first time. “Poor woman,” she said in a barely audible voice.

“Don’t go fainting on me, Doctor, I ain’t got time for you to fall and hit your head on one of these rocks. Do your job; be quick about it. We need to get her out of here before dark. The man, too. Wherever he is.” Carter walked around her and Alcott. “The woman seems to be missing her left boot.” He turned and yelled over to Miller who was still investigating the campsite. “Hey, you find a lone boot over there?”

“No,” Miller answered.

The sheriff walked toward the campsite. “I’ll find out who she is, or who she was.”

Alcott hated when anyone talked so flippantly about any victims, but especially the woman on the ground. She had suffered, and she was still someone. Deceased didn’t mean she ceased to exist. For her family, she would always be someone, even if only in their hearts and memories. “You need any help?” Alcott asked Dr. Dean.

“No. Not my first rodeo in the middle of the woods. I’ll be fine. Go find the man while I work here.”

Dr. Dean and her assistants were medical examiners but they also doubled as what little bit of forensics Glencoe had.

Alcott didn’t answer and didn’t leave right away. Something was wrong with the scene, and he couldn’t put his finger on it immediately.

“You think bears did this, don’t you?”

“I wish I could say no.”

“But you can’t.”

He shook his head. “That looks like a bear attack to me. I’m just not used to seeing a human as the subject of the attack. Usually, it’s other animals, and even then, the level of aggression and violence is nothing like this.” His gaze fell again on the gaping hole where the woman’s ribs showed through. Was that where the bear had hold of her when she was being thrashed about?

He surveyed the scene. Blood had spattered high on tree trunks, rock outcrops, and several feet in every direction on the ground. The woman had suffered horribly.

“So, you’re saying this is unnatural?”

“Something like that, yeah. I thought you said this wasn’t your first rodeo in the middle of the woods.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “It’s not. It’s my first time seeing something like this, though.” She leaned for a closer look at the wounds. “Only one bite did that to her side. That’s a big bear.”

He agreed. “You sure you don’t need any help?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for offering, though.” She turned and opened her case.

Alcott walked in the opposite direction of the scene and the detective and the sheriff. There were bear tracks in the soft dirt leading away from them. The tracks led to a boot lying on its side. Blood had run down and over the side and toe; the strings had been snapped. It was a testament to the ferocity of the attack.

Twenty feet around a sharp bend, Alcott found the man.

The first thing he noticed was that the man’s death had been quicker and cleaner than the woman’s. He had fallen on his side, and there he stayed. His throat had been torn out, and there were deep lacerations across his back. There were small sticks lying around the body as if he had been gathering firewood when attacked.

Hearing someone tromping toward him, Alcott yelled a warning to stay out of the scene.

“Gotchya,” a familiar voice responded.

Alcott breathed a sigh of relief as Detective Adam Senn appeared. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re working on this one.”

Senn looked at the body. “Not a Miller fan, huh?”

“The beer, yeah, definitely. The man, not so much. Since you’re here, maybe the sheriff will send him someplace else.”

Senn chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Alcott pointed out the sticks. “Looks like maybe they were just gathering firewood when the attack happened.”

“I see that, and I agree. What I’m not seeing is any reason for the attack. Did they just get too close to the bears?”

“Black bears are usually docile. Mostly docile. Unless it’s a mother and her cubs, but I’ve seen no signs that’s the case here. Looks like an unprovoked attack to me. Game and Wildlife have a pair of brown bears they tagged in West Virginia. Those browns are somewhere in Acadia Forest. Even though they’re not docile like the black bears, I just don’t see them doing this, but then again, I can’t say the attacks look like anything other than bear attacks.”

“The woman over there has substantially more wounds, too. Maybe due to her man being attacked first, and then she ran, or fought.” Senn put his hands on his hips and his brow furrowed.

“I don’t know for sure, but there’s a bloody trail from the firepit at the campsite all the way to where she is now.”

“So, I would imagine that she was attacked at camp and then he was attacked out here. Maybe she had a confrontation with the bear, it killed her because she was fighting with it, and then it ran up on him.” He pointed to the man’s body. “Hmm, that doesn’t sound right.”

“He would have heard her being mauled and would’ve gone to help her. At least, I would think that hearing her screams, he wouldn’t remain here collecting firewood.”

Senn looked back toward the other site and then to the body of the man with confusion. “Two bears killing two people at the same time? Would they do that?”

“Not to my knowledge. Not without serious provocation.”

Carter and Miller joined them.

“We got this now, Alcott. I think you should be busy finding the bear responsible for this travesty. I want the bastards euthanized, yesterday. Do you understand me?”

Alcott understood, but he also understood that he was well within his rights to do what he needed to do to figure out what had really happened to the victims. “There are procedures we have to—”

“Oh, to hell with your procedures. This isn’t the time to be a tree-hugging sap. I got two dead hikers here, and we all know a bear did it,” he bellowed.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Alcott said. “When we find the bear we think is responsible, he or she will be tranquilized and tests will be performed to determine what caused this, and if the bear is even the real culprit.”

Carter’s right eye twitched at the corner. He put his finger in Alcott’s chest. “Catch the bear and put it down, or I will. That’s a promise.” The finger went from Alcott’s chest and pointed to the corpse. “You see that man? Take a good long look. You think this was an accident? A bear is to blame. Now, go do your job, and we’ll do ours.”

To avoid any further conflict, he turned on his heel and left. Tensions, emotions, and tempers were high. Rightfully so, but there was no need to engage in an argument that would lead to unnecessary tensions later.

As Ranger Alcott got within sight of the group of teenagers again, his radio went off. Two black bears were running through Glencoe. Two other rangers confirmed their response would take at least twenty-five minutes as they were miles away from town and up the mountain farther than Alcott was.

Dr. Nathan Holden and Walt Johnson were on their way. ETA was fifteen minutes. Officer Jenkins was already on-scene and requesting immediate backup with tranquilizer guns.

Alcott thumbed the radio. “Linda, Alcott here. Twenty minutes out and heading to Glencoe with a tranq gun. Confirm there are two black bears.”

“Confirming. Two black bears. They are terrorizing people and destroying property in a rampage. Two adult black bears.”

A few moments later, Linda came back on the radio. “Dr. Holden and Jenkins have the situation under control. The bears are tranquilized and they need you to bring the hauler with the bigger cage. They said to meet them in front of Briarwood Grocery.”

Alcott exhaled heavily. “Did anyone get hurt, Linda?”

“No reports of any person being hurt, but there are reports of animals being attacked by the bears.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible. The hauler is at the office; I’ll have to go by there.”

“Ten-four,” Linda said.

Twenty minutes later, Alcott pulled onto Main Street and was shocked at the destruction there. Nothing had been safe from the bears except the people. Thank god, the people had not been unlucky enough to be in the bears’ path.

Hannah Green and Lucas Bennet, the other rangers in Glencoe, had already reached the scene. They were helping Jenkins and the other cops interview witnesses, take reports, and generally try to calm the residents.

“Chip,” Nate said, approaching the truck. “You missed all the excitement.”

Walt laughed dryly. “Don’t let him fool you, he likes being the big hero.” He went to the back of the hauler to unhook the other cage.

Chip and Nate walked to the large black bear lying on the pavement. Blood and gore were smeared in the matted fur from its muzzle to its chest and neck. Its left front paw was bleeding from two gashes on the pads, one canine tooth was broken off, and there was a cut down the center of its muzzle all the way to the tip of its nose.

“Any ideas what caused this?” Chip asked.

“None. Disease maybe,” Nate answered.

Lucas Bennet joined them. “Old man Thompson is having a fit because of his car. I can’t get him to calm down.” He stared at the bear on the ground with anger. “This is crazy.” He squatted near the bear’s face.

“Lucas, get back from him,” Alcott said.

“He’s out, boss. Sleeping like a baby.” He reached out and patted the bear’s face hard. “You caused a whole lot of—”

The bear snorted and lifted its head. Its eyes rolled and then closed again. Its massive chest heaved, and its front paws twitched.

Alcott quickly stepped forward and took Lucas by the shoulder. “Get up and get away from him, now.”

Lucas shot to his feet, irritated.

Alcott stepped back and motioned for him to get a move on.

“Not like he can hurt anybody laying there knocked out,” Lucas said as he started around the bear.

Without warning, the bear shifted and swiped at Lucas’ leg. It was a clean sweep that took his foot out from under him. Alcott’s heart stopped for a split second as he saw the younger man going down, saw the look of pure horror on his face, and then he leaped into action.

Alcott lunged forward, mindless of the imminent danger, and grabbed for Lucas’ outstretched arm. He caught it at the wrist and yanked him to the side. They both hit the ground just out of reach of the bear, who was struggling to its feet again and swiping wildly with one huge paw. The claws zipped through the air inches from Lucas’ hip as he got to his feet again.

Alcott ran for the hauler. A tranquilizer gun lay on the seat. Nate had gone back toward the Blazer, but it was too far away. Lucas would be mincemeat by the time he made it back.

“Chip!” Lucas screamed.

Hannah ran from the left, reached the hauler ahead of Alcott, and tossed him the gun. “It’s chasing him!” she screamed.

Alcott turned, aimed, fired. The shot hit the bear in the side, but it remained on its feet somehow. He fired a second time and hit the bear in the hip. It gave one last mighty swipe at Lucas and then fell.

Lucas’ scream was loud enough to echo as he rolled onto his side and looked toward his hip and leg. Two cuts ran from hip to knee.

Alcott bolted for the injured man and moved him to the bench in front of Briarwood’s where several terrified faces peered out at them.

“How bad is it?” Lucas asked.

Alcott pursed his lips together as he tried to assess the damage.

“Dammit, Chip, how deep are the cuts?” Lucas nearly squealed. “It feels like my whole leg is on fire.”

Hannah arrived, took a quick look, and put a hand on Lucas’ shoulder. “You’ll live, but it’s going to be painful for a while. You need to get to the hospital. I think your cheek needs stitches.”

Lucas put a hand gently to the side of his face and then looked at his fingers. “My face isn’t cut.”

Hannah pulled his arm to get him to stand. “Not that cheek. Now, come on. You need to get away from that bear.”

Nate came over clutching his own tranq gun. “What the hell was that, Chip?” His face was ashen.

Alcott shook his head. “You’re the doctor; you tell me.”

“I would, if I could.” He bumped Alcott’s shoulder with his fist. “Looks like you just took the hero badge from me.”

“You can keep it. I just didn’t want to lose a ranger. Let’s get this beast loaded before he decides to wake up again. How many doses did you shoot him with?”

“Two,” Nate said.

“Well, he just got two more from me.”

“He shouldn’t have come out of it that soon.”

“But he did, Doc. I just came from one of the smaller camping areas out in Acadia. Two dead hikers. Mauled to death. I think I found the culprits.” He pointed to the bloody muzzle and paws of the bear.

“Black bears don’t attack unprovoked. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Yeah. I should. But I also know what I just saw.”

“Nate!” Jenkins yelled. “Come over here. See this.” He motioned from the edge of Ms. Hager’s yard near where the broken pieces of wooden fence lay.

Walt, Hannah, and two police officers helped load the big bear into the cage. They had to keep maneuvering him to get him inside. After the cages were secured to the hauler, Alcott called ahead to the Game and Wildlife office so they would have the proper enclosure ready when he got there.

By the time he arrived at the Game and Wildlife facility, Mayor Roger Blankenship was just parking and getting out of his car.

Alcott took a deep breath. Blankenship was going to have an array of questions to which he would demand answers. He was a good man, but he could be overbearing and too demanding in stressful situations. He wasn’t someone Alcott wanted to deal with while he still had the bears to unload into the enclosure. That alone was enough stress.

Blankenship strode toward the front door of the office barely glancing at Alcott. The determination in his walk and the hard set of his expression was enough to know he was already angry at the whole situation.

Alcott drove straight to the enclosure. He backed the hauler in and set the parking brake. He hadn’t finished unstrapping the first crate when he heard the side door of the building slam open.

“Don’t tell me I can’t disturb him right now,” Blankenship said loudly. “I’m the mayor, and I’ve got questions for him.”

Alcott turned to Blankenship as he walked into the enclosure.

“Sir, maybe you shouldn’t be in here,” Alcott said. “It’s against proto—”

“Aw, to hell with your protocols, Alcott. Don’t give me that crap.” He jabbed a finger toward the bears. “What are you doing with them?”

“Well, I was getting ready to lower the cages and open them. Then, I’ll leave and secure the enclosure on my way out.”

“Why on God’s green earth would you do that?”

“So the bears can roam in here after they wake. They’ve been heavily tranquilized.”

“Leave them in the cages, Alcott. What the hell happened in my town? Why did these bears destroy the town and kill those hikers?”

“Sir, we don’t know that they did kill those hikers—”

“I respect you because of your knowledge about wildlife, Chip. Don’t make me lose that respect by saying such dumb things. We all know they did it. They even killed Ms. Hager’s little dog, and don’t think she’s taking it lightly. She held it together until they got the dog taken away, and then she started bawling like a baby. I have two well-liked hikers who are now dead. Mauled to death. They were minding their business, enjoying a little camping trip, and now they’re dead.” He ran a hand over his hair and then put both hands on his hips. “I want them dead, Chip. You put those bears down. They’re already asleep; just go on and finish the job.”

“I need to run tests, Roger. You know the procedures. What if they didn’t kill those hikers?”

Blankenship shook his head. “Doesn’t matter if they didn’t do that; look at what they did. You can’t let them back out into the wild. Not here; not anywhere. They’re a danger now that they’ve had a taste of blood. They’ll be killing livestock and pets all over the place.” He moved closer to the hauler and peered into the cages. Shaking his head, he backed away with a disgusted and angry expression. “You put them down. That’s an order, and I won’t stop until it’s carried out. You know I’m right, and if you fight me on this…” He didn’t have to finish the hateful thought.

After thirty hours, Alcott was no closer to figuring out exactly what happened to Laura and David Harris than he was at the beginning of the investigation. Nor was he any closer to a determination about why the bears came into town and tore it up, or killed Ms. Hager’s schnauzer, or why they attacked cars as if they were fighting for their lives.

He watched the bears in the enclosure. They acted normal. Not like crazed killing machines. In his heart, Alcott knew the bears had attacked the Harrises, and that the attacks had been unprovoked. No matter how badly he wanted to believe those poor people had not been mauled to death, he knew better. Their deaths had been horrific and terrifying.

Dr. Holden stepped beside him. “You get any sleep?”

“None. Couldn’t stop thinking about the Harrises. If these two bears killed them…” He exhaled and shook his head.

“I know. I’ve been here all night.” He shifted from one foot to the other as he watched the bears. “They act mostly normal today. They seem a little agitated, but that’s it.”

“What would cause them to act the way they did yesterday, Doc? I’ve never seen such ferocious attacks from black bears.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t answer that still. I drew blood from them before they woke up yesterday, but the results aren’t back yet. All I can say is that they are disease free.” After several moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “The autopsies on the Harrises came in a few minutes ago. Well, the prelim.”

Alcott didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to. Not to know it was bad news. “And?” He didn’t think he wanted to know, but he had to know.

“They were alive for most of the injuries.” His voice was low. “Mrs. Harris died from massive hemorrhaging after the chunk was taken out of her side.”

“God, Nate,” Alcott exclaimed. “Is it really possible that one of these bears did that to her?”

He cleared his throat again and nodded. “The male. He’s big enough. Mrs. Harris wasn’t a very big woman. You said she was…was…thrashed around?”

“That’s what it looked like, yeah. That’s what Senn put in his report, too.”

“That’s how he tore the chunk out of her like that. He bit into her, shook her…”

“Did you get any samples of the blood from their fur while they were out?”

“It’s at the lab being matched to the Harrises’. The types are a match, but there was also other blood. From animals.”

“Ms. Hager’s dog. The Whitmans’ horse. The cow on the Monroe dairy.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, but who knows what other animals they encountered before the ones we know about. Or if they ran into any other people.”

Alcott’s already sour stomach churned at the thought. He had been thinking it since the previous day but hadn’t said it aloud.

Mayor Blankenship came through the small office. “Is anybody running this place?” he asked loudly.

Alcott groaned and turned on his heel to meet the mayor. “We’re out here, Mayor,” he called out, resisting the urge to be confrontational. Lack of sleep and stress did nasty things to his normally calm nature.

At the back door of the office, Alcott nearly ran into Blankenship.

“Jesus, man, watch where you’re going,” the mayor grumbled, taking a quick step back to avoid the collision.

“Sorry. I thought you were still inside.”

“Where’s Nate?” He glanced at the papers in his hand distractedly.

“Out by the enclosures.”

Without another word, he brushed by Alcott heading for Dr. Holden. Alcott thought about leaving. He didn’t want to deal with the mayor, didn’t feel like it. Whatever information was in those papers would likely be something Alcott wouldn’t just want to know, but something he needed to know. Instead of leaving, he straightened his hat and jacket, then followed Blankenship toward the enclosures.

“Why are those two beasts still alive?” Blankenship demanded. “These are the two killers, I assume.”

Nate looked from the bears to the mayor, and Alcott wondered if he was considering lying to the mayor.

“These are the two bears from yesterday,” Nate answered coolly.

“And?” Blankenship held his arms out.

“And, what, Mayor?”

Alcott couldn’t tell if Nate was trying to get under the mayor’s skin on purpose, or if he was actually unsure of the question.

“Tests are still being run on them, Mayor,” Alcott supplied.

Blankenship spun to face him. “Oh, so now you’re the veterinarian?”

“No, I’m the Forest Ranger Station Chief. Dr. Holden is the veterinarian.”

“Don’t be facetious with me, Alcott. Not today. I’m not in the mood. I want answers.” He held the papers out to Nate.

Nate took the papers with a small amount of trepidation and started reading over them. Blankenship moved closer to the pen to watch the bears. The male rolled onto his side and looked at the mayor with disinterest. He was sunning, and no small-town mayor was going to interrupt that for him. The female pulled a log toward her and nosed the ground underneath.

Alcott took the opportunity to stand by Nate and read the papers as the other man flipped through them. After the last page, they exchanged a disheartened look.

Nate’s face began to redden as he walked toward the mayor with the papers crumpling under his tightening grip.

Mayor Blankenship glanced at the angry expression on Nate’s face and looked back at the bears. “I don’t want to hear the argument, Nate. You know I’m right, and you know it’s your job.”

“This paper says I have twenty-four hours,” Nate said.

Mayor Blankenship faced him with a stern, set expression. “I know you like animals more than you like most people, but don’t buck me on this. Not when you know, in your heart, that it’s the right thing to do. And don’t get any bright ideas of how to save them in those twenty-four hours.” He tapped the top of the papers that Nate was still holding. “It’s twenty-four hours from the date and time that I got the papers. If you look right there, you’ll see that you are down to…” He looked at his watch. “…six.”

Nate read the top page again. “You got these yesterday?” he asked incredulously.

“I was trying to give you time to get the material you needed for testing and then do the right thing on your own. This morning it became apparent that you were not going to do it on your own, hence, the orders in black and white.”

Nate thrust the papers back to him. Blankenship dropped his hands to his sides and shook his head. “Those are for your records. Keep them so you can look back later and know that your hand was forced, if that makes you feel any better. Nobody will hold it against you, Nate.” He reached out to clap him on the shoulder, but Nate twisted and took a step back.

“They wouldn’t have attacked unprovoked. Something else made them do it, Roger. This should have never happened.”

“But it did, Nate. It did. They attacked unprovoked, and no one cares about the why of the matter.”

“You’d care if it was because of a disease outbreak,” Nate said, looking to the bears.

“Is that what you’ve found? That they are diseased and that we might have a wider case than the one against just these two bears?”

Nate stared at him for a moment. Again, Alcott wondered if he thought about lying. Finally, he turned his back on Blankenship and gripped the bars of the enclosure with both hands, crumpling the papers even more.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll be back before you close up shop today.” He stopped at the doorway, turned, and jabbed his finger in Nate’s direction as he spoke to Alcott. “You see to it that he does his job. If he doesn’t—”

“Yeah, I got it, Mayor,” Nate said loudly and without turning. “If I don’t, I’ll be in hot water; if I don’t, you’ll find someone who will. Thank you for visiting your local Game and Wildlife office. Have a good day.” His tone was snarky bordering on irreverent.

Blankenship nodded to Alcott. Alcott returned it before joining Nate again.

“Do me a favor,” Nate said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, if I can.”

“Don’t lecture me about why I should do this. I know I have to. I have to do an necropsy, too.” He exhaled sharply and turned his eyes to the ground between his feet.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Nate stood and faced him as if getting ready to square up. “What the hell? You know how I feel about this. How could you say it’s a good thing?” His voice rose until he was nearly screaming in Alcott’s face.

“The necropsy might reveal something. You said it yourself that they wouldn’t have attacked unprovoked unless something went horribly wrong. Here’s your chance to figure out what went wrong.”

Nate glared at Alcott and then turned the heated gaze to the papers in his hand. He raked the fingers of his other hand through his hair before walking to the door.

“Hey, where you going?” Alcott called.

Nate simply held up the papers and opened the door. Alcott watched the bears for a few more minutes. Did they know what was about to happen to them? That was stupid. Of course they didn’t know. But he couldn’t keep the thought away. As a Forest Ranger, his first priority was the safety of the citizens—the ones from Glencoe, and the ones visiting. It sucked to have to make the decision to end an animal’s life, but it was part of the job for people who worked with them.

When Nate didn’t return, Alcott went into the office. It was empty. He walked out the front and toward the main office building. Nate wasn’t there, either. He found Hannah Green and asked if she had seen Nate.

“Yes, sir. He headed down the road about five minutes ago. He was really upset and didn’t say boo to anybody. Just stormed out of his office in back and out the door.”

“On foot?”

She nodded.

Alcott spent about an hour searching for Nate. He was on foot; it wasn’t like he could have gotten far, but he sure got far enough that Alcott couldn’t find him. He was probably upset and needed a little while to breathe and think before the euthanasia. The woods were the likeliest spot for him to be. But the woods were big and dense; he could have gone anywhere.

Alcott took care of some business before returning to the office later that day. He was glad that he had beaten the mayor back.

Dropping off some paperwork at the front desk, Alcott went to Nate’s office out near the enclosures again. When he pushed the door open, he called out. There was no answer, but there was noise in the examination room at the end of the building.

He was shocked when he stepped into the room and saw both bears lying on low tables and unrestrained. It took a second for his mind to comprehend that the bears were no threat. They were already dead.

Nate stood straight from where he had been working and peered over the male bear. “I’m here,” he said before sitting again.

“Do you need help with any of this?”

“No. You’re not going to believe what I found.”

Alcott shimmied around the edge of the table with the male bear. “You found whatever went wrong that caused them to go on their rampage.”

“No, well, yeah and no.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Injection marks, Chip. They both have injection marks on them.” He grinned and held up his reports. The grin wasn’t one symbolizing happiness or joy in any form. It was an angry grin.

Alcott took the report folders. “Yeah, as they should have. They were shot with tranq guns, Nate. Are you feeling okay?”

“Not those injection marks. These are other injection marks. Ones not caused by our tranquilizer guns.” He took back the reports and put them on the table.

“Well, that just got interesting.” He leaned over the reports. “Where were they?”

Nate put his finger heavily on the drawing of one of the bears. “Right there. On their backs; right over their shoulder blades.” He flipped that one over, found the other report and pointed. “Almost the same place on both of them.”

“And you’re certain these marks weren’t made by—”

“No, they weren’t made by us. Not unless someone shot them from the back while I wasn’t looking, or while you weren’t looking. Did you have anyone shoot them from behind?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing. This proves I was right, you know. Roger just wanted the townspeople to see him in a good light; like he was doing what was best for everybody by having the bears put down. Never mind that it wasn’t their fault. Never mind that…” He stopped short and raked a hand down his face.

“It might have felt wrong, but you know it was right, too. So do I, even though I don’t like it and it makes me feel kinda sick. You know you couldn’t set them back out in the woods. Not after they, well, after they got a taste for blood like that.”

Nate shoved the reports back into the folders and tossed them to his desk.

“Did you send off for a tox screen in light of the new information?” Alcott asked.

“I already did that. That’s what the vials of blood were for. I checked for diseases, and when I didn’t find any, I sent for the tox. I knew it had to be something unnatural.” He turned and held up a finger, his face pinched and red. “I want whoever is responsible for this to pay, Chip. Do you hear me? I want them to pay and pay and pay.” The finger swung to the carcasses. “That was such a useless, unnecessary loss of life. What kind of sick bastard would shoot drugs into bears? They mind their own business. They don’t hurt anything. They just live, doing the jobs in the wild that nature intended for them to do.”

Alcott nodded. Nate’s behavior and his anger over the situation worried him. “You’re right, Nate. Useless and unnecessary. We’ll figure it out. If someone did this; they will pay. They have to answer for the deaths of those two hikers. Have you told Sheriff Carter yet? Or Detective Senn?”

“No. They’ll hear it from me when they get the reports I wrote. I don’t want to talk to them right now. Matter of fact, I have work to do. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to do it alone.” He dropped his head and leaned with his hands heavily on the table.

“Don’t need help? I don’t mind.”

Nate’s only reply was to shake his head.

Alcott left him to it.

Sheriff Carter shook his head and sighed as he watched the big blue and green bus painted with various animals and birds roll up Main Street. “There goes the neighborhood,” he said to the mayor as he stared after the bus.

“What does that mean, John?” The mayor moved closer to the other window and rubbernecked to see up the street.

“Damn activists. Whole busload of them.” Carter pulled out his rolling chair and sat heavily.

“What kind of activists? The only thing I saw was the two giant letters U and P. Up?” Scoffing he turned to the sheriff. “You worry too much. Probably just some hippie tree-huggers going to spend the weekend, or the week, in the campground and ‘get in touch with their feelings’ by meditating under the moon, or something loopy like that. Now, back to the business of the funerals for Mr. and Mrs. Harris.”

“Not tree-huggers. Not hippies. UP stands for United Paws, and they are one of the largest animal rights activist groups in the country. No doubt they heard about the bears being put down.” He picked up the phone to call in the auxiliary deputies who usually only worked during festivals to help direct traffic and keep the peace when someone had done too much celebrating with a bottle of alcohol.

“They know those bears killed two people, right?” the mayor asked, his face tightening.

Carter shrugged and dialed the first number. “Doesn’t matter to them. Animal lives trump human lives with them.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Carter bobbed his head once. He didn’t need or want to appease the mayor right then; he just wanted his nephew to answer the phone and say he’d be there in fifteen.

“John, who are you calling?”

The demanding, rude tone made Carter’s head snap toward the mayor. “The auxiliaries, Roger. We’re gonna need them.” He tilted his head in the direction that the bus had gone.

“Again, ridiculous. We’re not going to need help from them. No need to call them in. It will be an expense the town doesn’t need right now. Not in light of all the repairs that need to be done. Not to mention the hit our tourism income is probably going to take.”

“Xander, it’s John. Get into your uniform and get to the station,” Carter said in a less cordial tone than intended. The mayor was getting on his last nerve. He listened to Xander for a second and then cut him off. “No, it’s not a disaster, just some activists. They’ll be mixing up trouble, though.”

With his hands in the air, Mayor Blankenship gave him an incredulous look. “What did I just say? Are you even listening to me?”

“Roger, not now. I know what I’m doing.” He dialed the next number.

“Calling in backup to deal with a few of those limp-leaf idiots?” He scoffed and let his arms drop. “I won’t approve it.”

Carter tucked the receiver under his chin and shrugged again. “Do what you have to and I’ll do the same.” Drew answered, and the sheriff turned his attention to the call while the mayor continued to rant about the cost and the stupidity of the decision.

Finished with the call, Carter put the phone in the cradle heavily. If he were criminally inclined and didn’t care about his pension, he might have chucked the phone at Roger. “You know we go way back, right?”

The mayor stopped and put his hands on his hips. “What of it?”

“Don’t make me throw that out the window over this. For once, just take my advice. If the auxes aren’t needed, they won’t clock in, but it’s my guess that by the time Xander gets here, we’ll wish we had three more just like him on the clock.”

“John, if we weren’t old friends—”

The screech of a bullhorn keying on and a woman’s voice yelling something that sounded like a command interrupted the mayor. He stopped mid-sentence still pointing at Carter, who was on his feet quick as a cat and much less gracefully. He crammed his hat on and brushed by the mayor.

“They’re starting sooner than even I anticipated,” Carter said as he flung the outer door open and trotted down the steps.

At the end of Main Street, a group of activists stood. Some of them were on the sidewalk, and the others were in the street. Two cars slowed to a crawl and moved to the other lane to keep from stopping.

The woman with the bullhorn was yelling about the inhumane euthanasia of two innocent animals.

Ms. Hager opened her door and poked her head out.

The mayor caught up with Carter. “What the hell?” he asked. Awe tinted his tone as he stared at the gathering.

“They’re at the wrong property to be protesting about those bears.” Carter pointed toward Ms. Hager, who was slowly emerging from her house. “Guess I better go over and play buffer. She’s liable to punch one of them.”

Carter hurried toward the older woman’s house. Her beloved Sandy had been eviscerated and torn almost in half by one of the bears. She would be sore over that for years to come as she wasn’t a woman who let go of things very easily.

“There’s one of the men responsible for murdering those bears,” the woman with the bullhorn bellowed as she pointed at Carter. “We’re well within our rights, Sheriff,” she continued. “You can’t make us leave. You can’t shut us up. We’re going to let the whole world know what you did here in Glencoe.” Fourteen sets of accusing eyes turned to him.

“You are not within your rights,” he announced as Mr. Turnbull stopped his car in front of the activists. Carter motioned as if making an air-pen circle around the people in the road. “This right here…” He made the motion again. “You can’t do this. I can make you leave if you keep up with the disorderly conduct.”

The woman lowered the bullhorn and motioned hotly for her group to all assemble on the sidewalk and get out of the road.

Carter motioned Mr. Turnbull through with a tight smile.

Ms. Hager was at her gate, pointing a crooked finger at the woman with the horn. “What the hell is she on about, Sheriff? Did she say those bears were innocent?” Her other hand fumbled with the double latch on the gate.

Miss Bullhorn let go with another tirade about how wildlife should be protected, not eradicated. She likened the situation with the bears to that of innocents in World War II.

A few people from Glencoe had heard and seen the gathering and had started trickling toward them from every direction. When the bullhorn lady wouldn’t stop spewing her diatribe, it turned into chaos. Carter did his best to keep the activists and his citizens separated, but the task was too great. He radioed for backup, and even the mayor waded into the melee to try to help.

Two hours later, the mess was sorted as best as it could be. Carter had seven of the fourteen activists in his office lecturing them about their conduct and what charges could be levied against them for the small riot. He paced as he talked. The adrenaline was still coursing heavily through his veins and it was impossible to sit still. Being mad as an old wet hen didn’t help his demeanor, either.

Another bullhorn keyed to life. He spun and looked at the one on his desk that he had confiscated. A man’s voice echoed outside. He went to the window, expecting to see the other seven activists, and was shocked to see an entirely new and larger group gathering in the town square. A quick headcount showed twenty-six people. All of them wearing the same t-shirts. Powder blue covered the top part of the shirts while a jagged wide green swatch covered the bottom portion. The group’s logo, UP, was written on the fronts and backs encircled by numerous paw prints.

Carter sent the deputies out to quell the chaos that broke out again and put the seven activists in the holding cell.

“You can’t just put us in here,” one of the men said. “Fair treatment, innocent until proven guilty, our rights. Those are real things, Officer.”

“It’s Sheriff, and you can thank your friends outside for this. I don’t have time to deal with you right now, so you’re in holding until this is under control. Linda will see to the details unless I have to take her out with us to get this under control. How many of you are there, anyway?”

“We’re everywhere, Sheriff,” a woman said in a mysterious tone. The others puffed up their chests and nodded gravely.

“How many?!” Carter yelled.

“We are many,” another woman said.

There was laughter and then scathing remarks as Carter turned on his heel and exited the building.

Xander joined him at the door. “Don’t let that bunch of spare-time LARPers get under your skin, Unc.”

“I don’t even know what you just said to me. Try not to hurt anyone, but don’t let this turn into a barroom brawl out here, if that’s possible.”

They walked in separate directions and started yelling orders at the citizens and the interlopers.

A woman took the bullhorn after most of the group had been subdued. The deputies had split into teams and moved the citizens back from them.

Carter had dealt with enough from UP, and he walked straight to the woman with the bullhorn. Without any further niceties, he wrested the horn from her hand, pulled both her hands behind her back, and mirandized her as he marched her toward the station, still bellowing to anyone and everyone.

Lori Haynes knew her rights, and she knew them well. She had started the group back in 1981 and had studied the law to keep up to date on them. She also knew which buttons to push and wasn’t afraid to push them. Not with her followers, the townspeople, or with Sheriff Carter.

The mayor waited in Carter’s office, pacing with his hands on his hips and his head downcast.

Carter walked into the office, wanting badly to say ‘I told you so,’ but he didn’t. Instead, he went to his seat. “Have a sit-down, Roger. Pacing won’t help anything.”

“You can’t hold them forever, and if you charge them, they’ll just call in their backups. What are you going to do?”

Carter smirked. “What am I going to do with this bunch of limp-leaf idiots?”

“Dammit, John.” Blankenship stopped and glared at the man. “Jokes at a time like this. Do you really think that’s appropriate behavior for the sheriff of Glencoe?”

“Wasn’t a joke. That’s called sarcasm, my friend, and I’m chock-full of it this evening. I’m tired. My deputies are tired. The townsfolk are tired. What do you say we sit and discuss this situation instead of just pacing and taking jabs at each other?” He held out a hand, indicating a seat in front of his desk.

Mayor Blankenship sat. “Everybody’s tired but those…those…” Flustered, he jabbed a thumb in the direction of the holding cell.

“Activists,” Carter supplied.

“Rabble-rousers, troublemakers, borderline criminals is more like it, but yeah. The activists. They seem to have all the energy in the world.”

“Guess that happens when you don’t have a job.”

“Causing grief is their job.”

“You know when I let them out, this is all going to start up again. And they might be causing it, but they’re not the ones starting the altercations. They have every right to protest.”

“Peacefully, John!” Blankenship yelled, cutting the air in front of him with a hand for emphasis. “They have every right to protest peacefully. If they don’t, then you arrest them.”

“Roger, there are forty of them. Forty. What am I supposed to do, take twenty-five of them home with me?”

The mayor groaned. “Threaten them, then. Tell them if they don’t stop inciting riots, you’re going to put them under the jail so far they’ll have to have air pumped in to breathe.” Blankenship’s cheeks burned crimson and his lips were a paper-thin line cutting through his tight face.

“I’ll hold them a few more hours. Maybe that will get through to them. Give them time to think about it and decide if it’s really worth sitting in the clink.”

Blankenship stood and moved to the door. “Give them time to think up worse tactics if you don’t at least threaten them. Put the fear of the law in them.”

“You heard that Lori Haynes. She knows I can’t really do much, not that would make a difference anyway, unless they break the law. She knows how to push everybody’s buttons.”

“Can you keep them ‘til daylight?”

Carter looked up at the clock. It was quarter after two in the morning. “Sun will be up around six, so yeah. Why daylight?”

“Just to give me some time to think what to do next. It’s obvious you’re not going to come up with anything.”

Carter bit his tongue as Blankenship stormed out of the office. He swiveled in his chair and watched the mayor walk up the sidewalk and take a right turn at the end of the block where the courthouse sat. “Smug, self-important prick,” Carter mumbled. “Not changed since junior high.”

At dawn, Carter returned to the station. He had slept two hours at most, and that was broken. He kept waking up with the bullhorn voice ringing in his ears.

Helen walked down the sidewalk. Carter waited, holding the door for her. “Looking spiffy this morning, John,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you. Looking fresh as a daisy yourself, Miss Helen,” he said. The butterflies in his stomach had long since stopped fluttering every time she made eye contact with him, but her light chuckle, the way she looked over her shoulder at him appreciatively, and the smell of her simple perfume made him grin like a loon.

“You’re going to release the horde on the world this morning, I suppose?” She paused before turning toward her office.

“No way out of it.”

She bobbed a shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know, Sheriff. Maybe lose the key for a few more hours, let them out one at a time and have lengthy interviews with each, or just charge them with disturbing the peace and inciting riots.” She bobbed her shoulder again and headed in the opposite direction. “Just a thought. No one could blame you,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

He chuckled and went to his office. If only it were that simple. If he did any of that, Lori Haynes would have him swimming in lawsuits for the next five years.

After warning the UP group not to cause any more disturbances, Carter released them. What good would it do to hold them for a while on a charge that would soon be dismissed or served within a very short time if it caused the others to retaliate and cause more trouble? He didn’t want the group exacting revenge for the foreseeable future. Better to release them and give them a chance to go the polite route with their activism.

Hours before lunch, Mayor Blankenship burst into the office. His face was red, and his stride was determined. “Sheriff Carter, we have a problem. I think it’s time to call in more than the auxes.”

“What’s happened now?” Instinctively, Carter looked over his shoulder and out the window for the group of activists. There were none.

“Part of that busload of activists is out at Game and Wildlife having it out with Nate Holden, Chip Alcott, and the other rangers. There’s going to be a full-on riot this time. Call the FBI before they tear apart what’s left of my town.”

His town? Carter didn’t like the sound of that, and he didn’t really want to call in the feds, but something had to be done before people started getting hurt badly. Maybe even getting killed.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare at me slack-jawed, John, or are you going to call them? Time’s not on our side here, and we need the feds anyway.” He ran a hand over his hair, careful not to ruffle it.

“What’s that mean, Roger? Why do we need them anyway?” John’s hand paused midair on its way to the phone.

“Holden got that report back on the bears.” He waved a hand in the air as if trying to pull the words magically from the ether to his mind.

“What report?” He pulled back his hand and narrowed his eyes at the mayor.

“The tox report, or whatever the thing is called.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, the important thing is that the activists know about it and they’re pissed even more than before.”

“What was in that report?”

“The bears were injected with meth and that likely made them aggressive and violent. I don’t know because I’m not a veterinarian or a wildlife expert. That’s just what Nate said. He’s got his hairs in a twist about it, too.” He moved to the desk and removed the phone from the cradle. “Call them. We have more problems than we can handle right now. Or ever. Just make the call.” He thrust the phone into Carter’s hand and stalked out of the office.

Ava sat hunched over the open file in her lap. The desktop had become too cluttered with the other files to be of much use. The artists who had died in Fairhaven and New York City were somehow tied together, but the only connection she had found between them was Connor Aldridge, who was now dead himself, and Connor’s wife, Margueritte, who was doing life in the penitentiary for murder.

Her cellphone trilled, demanding to be answered. Ava shuffled the papers on her lap into a loose pile and reached for the cell in her back pocket. The papers on her lap waterfalled to the floor, and she exhaled sharply as she brought the phone around. This better be important, she thought, looking at the mess of papers.

The ID screen said the call was from Detective Reinhold in New York City. Before she could press the button to answer, her desk phone rang. She looked at it, torn as to which one to answer first. Before she could move to answer either phone, someone knocked at the office door. The folder on her knees slipped and she grabbed for it. The cell tumbled from her grasp and joined the papers on the floor. Maybe they were going to have a party. She reached for the desk phone and yelled for whoever was at the door to enter.

Sal stepped in with a case folder in one hand.

Ava lifted the phone from the charger and a notification rang from her computer.

She put the phone to her ear. “Special Agent James,” she said, pinning the phone between shoulder and ear so she could bend and retrieve the still-ringing cell from the floor. “Hello? Special Agent James speaking. How may I help you?” She sat straight. Reinhold was still on the cell screen. She hung up the desk phone and answered the cell. “Special Agent James speaking.” The line was dead.

Sal sat in a chair. Her small smile said she was amused by the situation she’d happened upon.

“I’ll be right with you, Sal. I just gotta…” Ava reached down and scooped up papers and then reached under the desk to retrieve the folder. As she made to straighten up, she bumped her head on the desk. “Really?” she asked rhetorically, inching her seat back farther before sitting fully upright. The papers refused to be shuffled back to neatness before being returned to their rightful folder, and Ava pushed them in as best she could before dropping the whole shebang onto the messy desk. She laced her fingers and forced a smile as if to tell Sal everything was a-okay. Just peachy. “Sal,” she said with a sigh. She shifted her eyes to the file in Sal’s hand. “Another case?”

“From the looks of your desk and the state you’re in, I’m not sure you can handle another one right now, but yes.” She flipped the end of the folder up. “Another case. Weird one, too.”

Heart sinking at the thought of more work and spirits lifting at the prospect of getting out of the office for a while, Ava held out her hand. “Really? How so? Where’s it at?”

“West side of the state. Acadia Forest? Glencoe? Know them?”

“Yeah. I’ve been to Acadia Forest when I was younger. Beautiful place. Glencoe is a really small town, too, but there are thousands and thousands of tourists and visitors there every year. I think it’s because the place is so quaint and old-fashioned.” She opened the file, afraid her fingers would let it fall if she wasn’t extra mindful of her grip.

“There’s been some bad work going on out there. You don’t know any of the people there, do you?”

Ava shook her head. “No, I was just a tourist like almost everybody else. I went there with my 4-H group once. My dad took me twice, and Mom went with us another time. Just short jaunts to enjoy the hiking and fishing. I think the longest we ever stayed was four days. Why? Is that important?”

“No. It’s just that there have been some nasty deaths over the last few days, and the town is getting bombarded with animal rights activists. The whole thing is just chaos.”

“That doesn’t sound like our kind of case, Sal. What is it, a favor for a friend kind of thing, or what?”

“No. Two black bears went on a rampage, killed two hikers that they know of, killed some livestock and pets, tore up the town pretty bad. The bears were euthanized.”

“Naturally,” Ava said, her heart heavy for the animals, but heavier still for the dead hikers and their families. “Still doesn’t sound like what we usually work.”

“And it wouldn’t be ours now if not for the necropsy on the bears. Dr. Nathan Holden, the veterinarian for Game and Wildlife out there, found that the bears had been injected with drugs prior to the rampage, and he says the drugs are what caused the bears to be so aggressive and violent.”

Ava waited for Sal to add something else. Something that would make it a federal case, but nothing more was offered. “I don’t get it. Someone injected the bears and suddenly it’s our case?”

“Why would someone do that? Inject black bears to make them violent and aggressive?”

“I don’t know, but what drug would cause that reaction?”

“Exactly,” Sal said. “That’s why it’s our case. If those bears were injected with something powerful enough to make them violent and act against their usually calm and gentle nature, then the town of Glencoe has more problems than those activists causing a stink.” She stood. “Oh, you’re supposed to leave this evening. All of you are going, but you’ll be a day ahead of the rest of the team. They have cases that can’t be put on hold, and Ashton might not make it at all. The sheriff says there have already been a couple of riots, and a third one was getting wound up to start while we spoke on the phone. Even with auxiliary officers and loaners from the next county over, they don’t have enough people to quell the riot. So, be prepared to do whatever you need to get it under control.”

“Will do. What time do we leave?”

“Take an early lunch. Your flight is at eleven-thirty.”

Ava waited for Sal to close the door after exiting and then she opened the notification on the computer. At least it wasn’t like the calls. When she clicked to open the message, it was still there. It was a message from Reinhold. There had been another artist murdered in the city. This new one had been found dead in his apartment, and they thought his paints had been poisoned. Reinhold was waiting on the tests to confirm.

Ava answered him back quickly. Although further intrigued by the artist case, she had been warned off it by Sal and the suits upstairs who thought it a waste of resources for her to go on a wild goose chase looking for a connection to the Connor Aldridge case. They didn’t think a connection existed. And everyone knew they had to be right. No way they could be wrong. That’s why they were upstairs, perched on their pedestals looking down at Ava and the other peons as if they were gods on Mount Olympus.

The desk phone rang again, and Ava snatched it before the first ring stopped. “Special Agent James speaking,” she said in a rush and hoping the caller was the one she had missed moments before.

“Special Agent James?” Dr. Bran asked.

Ava closed her eyes and dropped her forehead onto her fist. “Yes, Dr. Bran. It’s Ava,” she replied in a dull voice. She didn’t need Bran down her neck, but there it was. Might as well get it over with.

“Ava, you were doing so well with the appointments. You were making great progress. What happened?”

“Life. My job. Mercury went into retrograde. Take your pick.”

“See, it’s that combativeness that hinders your true potential for progress. I thought we had moved beyond that. You missed three appointments—”

“Seriously? You want to know why I get combative, Dr. Bran?”

“I’d love to know, Ava.”

“Because I’m all better now. I’ve been coming to you for months. I’ve done all your exercises, practices, and everything you’ve told me to do, no matter how ridiculous I thought they were. I don’t need to keep seeing you, and I would appreciate it if you would end this. I have far too much to do with my job and my life to keep worrying about appointments with you. I don’t need to be in therapy anymore.” She enunciated each word in the last statement with emphasis.

“Have you gone out with—”

“No, and I’m not planning to. He’s just a friend, and not a very close one at that. I mentioned him in one session, and you became obsessed with me dating him.”

“No, I became obsessed with getting you out of your guarded shell. You have to eventually let people get close to you again. Not every man is Jason Ellis, and you need to come to terms with that if you ever hope to live a full life again. To live to your potential.”

Ava squeezed her eyes tight and clenched her teeth against the retort. Taking a deep breath, she forced a neutral tone. “Dr. Bran, I know not every man is Jason Ellis. Not every man is a serial killer who wants to see me bleed. Right now, at this very moment in my life, I have no interest in dating. I don’t have the time to properly focus on building a romantic relationship.”

“Any relationship takes dedication, commitment, and time.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not in one. If and when I do get into a relationship, I want to make damn sure I have enough time to build it into a strong, lasting one.”

There was a moment of silence from Dr. Bran, and then she cleared her throat lightly. “Okay. Maybe I was wrong about your progress. One last appointment, and I’ll close the case. How does that sound?”

A thousand pounds lifted off Ava’s shoulders. “That sounds phenomenal, Dr. Bran.”

Glencoe was chaotic when Ava arrived that evening. Officer Jenkins had picked her up at the airport. He had warned her that Main Street was pretty much wrecked, and that the whole place was poised on the verge of a complete implosion over the euthanasia of the two black bears.

“I won’t endeavor to give you more details than that,” Jenkins said, maneuvering slowly around a group of protestors holding up signs. He hit a button and whooped his sirens. Sticking his head out the window, he said, “Y’all are gonna have to stay out of the roadway. Last warning. You can’t be jammin’ up the traffic.”

His ultimatum was met with jeers and shouted remarks about his fascism.

“The regular folks who live around here don’t take kindly to this group slinging mud about the treatment of the bears. Especially when it was their town, livestock, pets, and neighbors the bears tore up and killed,” he said, pulling up to the side door of the small brick building that housed the sheriff’s office and the jail. “It’s right there.” Jenkins pointed to the windowless metal door. He glanced out the back window. “Want me to walk in with you so no one bothers you?”

Ava chuckled. “Thank you, Officer Jenkins, but I think I’ll be okay.” She got out.

The activists carried signs denouncing McDavid Lumber Company for the mass-depletion of the natural habitat for all wildlife. They shouted that McDavid Lumber was the reason two innocent bears were slaughtered. Apparently, those two black bears would never have killed any person if it hadn’t been for McDavid Lumber and the town of Glencoe being in business together.

Shaking her head, Ava rang the buzzer at the metal door and looked up at the camera. She held up her badge, and the lock clunked open. She went inside to find Sheriff Carter.

“What seems to be the main trouble, Sheriff?” Ava asked the frazzled man.

“That damn group of activists, that’s the main trouble. That Lori Haynes is a thorn in my side.” He grabbed his hat and motioned for her to follow him out the door.

Having only just arrived, Ava stood from the chair she’d sat on exactly five seconds earlier. “Are we going to Game and Wildlife?”

“Yeah. That’s where you need to go to, isn’t it? See about the bears, talk to Dr. Holden.”

“That’s right.”

As Sheriff Carter drove them to Game and Wildlife, Ava realized that she much preferred Jenkins’ driving to that of the sheriff. The roads were narrow and winding. Sharp curves abounded on the fifteen-minute drive.

As soon as the cruiser was in park, Ava was out the door, hand against the side of the vehicle for support as she breathed deeply to calm her nerves.

“You all right, Agent? Look like you saw a ghost.”

“No, just my life passing before my eyes a few times.”

The sheriff laughed. It was the big belly-laugh of someone who was truly amused.

“And he laughs as if I’ve made a joke,” she mumbled, taking up the slack between them quickly.

“Where’s Nate?” the sheriff asked the young woman behind the half-wall of an open office.

She poked her head up again, saw Ava, and stood fully. “Dr. Holden is out back. So’s that woman from that group. They’re arguing. I was just getting ready to call you, Sheriff.”

“Told you she was a menace,” Carter said over his shoulder for Ava’s benefit. He strode across the room and to a big wooden door. As he pushed it open, the sound of heated arguing echoed in the semi-open space.

“Is that Lori Haynes? The woman you told me about at the station?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” He hurried toward the woman. “Hey, stop. You can’t be on this property. Just back it on up.” He held up his hands and made shooing gestures at the woman and her three friends.

“I know my rights, Sheriff. I’m not breaking any laws here.”

“Oh, really?” He chucked his thumb over his shoulder indicating the red spray-paint on the cinderblock wall under the heavy chain-link that encircled the animal enclosures. “So, I guess that paint won’t match any cans you might have with you, then.”

“None of my people did that. It was there when we arrived.” She opened her arms wide. “Check me. Check us all. Won’t find a single can of paint.” She pointed to the man that Ava assumed was Dr. Holden. “Who knows? Maybe your animal murdering buddy there did it himself.”

“Ms. Haynes, that’s ridiculous. Now, I want you and your group to tone it down. If not because what you’re doing is stupid, then because there are deaths to be dealt with here. Think of the families of the Harrises, would you? They just arrived from Oklahoma, and they’re going through a ton of grief right now. They don’t need you and your group out hollering about how wrong it was to put down the two bears that mauled their babies to death.” Carter’s face went an alarming shade of crimson.

“We don’t have to tone it down. Those deaths are no—”

Carter’s eyebrows shot up high. “They’re not what? Not what matters to you and UP? They are nothing compared to the deaths of two killer bears? Spit it out. Go on. Get it off your chest. Better that I have to hear it and deal with it than the families of the Harrises.”

Lori looked down and chuckled. It was a sound without humor. A sound that said she had stuck her foot in her mouth, and she knew it. “You know the real culprit here isn’t the bears, Dr. Holden, or you. It’s McDavid Lumber Company. If it wasn’t for them depleting the natural habitat of the wildlife in Acadia Forest, we wouldn’t be here.” She pointed at Ava, Dr. Holden, and Carter. “None of us.”

“That’s not true,” Dr. Holden spoke up. “It was the injections. Those bears were injected with something that made them aggressive. I told you that already.”

“I don’t think so, Doc. You’re saying that to make it easier to deal with the fact that you just murdered two innocent animals. You should be ashamed.”

A small truck idled to a stop behind Lori on the street. Three people spilled out of the tiny cab, and six more got out of the bed. They all wore the same blue and green shirts announcing their affiliation to UP.

Ava joined Carter. “Listen, no matter what caused this tragedy, it happened. It’s over, and there are people who need to grieve. They deserve to be able to do that in peace, and there will be no peace while you and the group are shouting into bullhorns about the innocence of the bears.”

“And you are who exactly?”

Ava introduced herself.

Lori looked in disbelief at Carter. “You called in the FBI already? Making a bit much out of a little public disturbance, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

“That’s not—”

“It’s worse than a little public disturbance, Ms. Haynes. Now, if you would kindly back up until you are off the property, that will keep the sheriff from arresting you on trespassing charges. He and the doctor have tried to reason with you, and they didn’t have to. Don’t make it harder than it has to be. Go protest properly. You seem like a smart woman; don’t prove me wrong.”

Lori blinked at her and Ava thought she couldn’t have had a more surprised look if she’d been slapped. After a moment of stunned silence, Lori spoke in a low voice to the group and ushered them to the other side of the street. She keyed the bullhorn to get the sheriff’s attention, and when he turned to her, she asked, “Where are the funeral services and interment going to be?” Her tone was defeated, sulky, but not contrite.

“Grace Fellowship Baptist Church. Services and visitation will happen in just about an hour. Interment will be at Forest Lawn Cemetery tomorrow morning. If I so much as catch a glimpse of you or your group disturbing either place, I will arrest you. I won’t tolerate such behavior during funerals. Do you hear me?”

Lori glared at him but nodded twice to indicate that she would keep it quiet until after the interment the following morning.

The group around her didn’t have the same mindset. They argued with her, and jeered at Carter and Ava and Holden.

Carter removed his hat and pinched the bridge of his nose. His face was still beet-red all the way to the collar of his shirt. “I won’t warn you all again,” he said, turning away from them and gesturing toward the enclosure. “Let’s go, Nate. They’ll lose interest and go away in a few minutes, surely.”

After he gave her the reports, Dr. Holden sat heavily in his desk chair and motioned toward the two mismatched folding chairs to his left. “Have a seat if you want.”

Ava sat and read over the report. “What was the injected drug? I don’t see it in this report.”

“That’s because it’s in the tox screen report,” Holden said in a flat tone. He spun the chair around so he faced a long steel table, rifled through a mess of papers there that reminded Ava of the file that had landed in a pile on her office floor not long ago, and then he turned with the folder in-hand. “This is it.”

She took the report and wondered why he hadn’t given it to her to begin with.

“Methamphetamine,” he said loudly, pointing an accusing finger at the damning file. “Someone shot those bears up with dope that set them into a rage. A drug-fueled rage that ended up costing them their lives. Two people, two bears, and a handful of livestock and pets. All because some meth-heads thought it would be a riot to shoot their poison into two black bears that were likely doing nothing but minding their own business.” The rage in his voice was mirrored in his eyes.

Ava put the reports on her lap, keeping a securing hand on them. “Would meth really cause the bears to behave so aggressively? I know what it can do to humans; I’ve dealt with that ugly aspect of my job plenty, but bears?”

“Yes. Yes, it would. And it can cause their blood pressure to spike, cause cardiovascular disturbances, and maybe even hallucinations. We’re not even sure of what all the effects could be, but I am positive that’s what caused them to attack and then tear through town. Positive of it. There’s no other explanation for their behavior.”

“The bigger questions at this very moment are: Where did that meth come from, and who injected those bears with it?” Sheriff Carter said, his expression darkening. “Special Agent James, I believe we might have bigger problems than the activists riling up the townsfolk.”

“I would wager that you are correct,” she agreed.

Mayor Roger Blankenship was a tall, portly man with a long, clean-shaven face and questionable taste in shoes. While his suit looked to be hand-tailored, his shoes looked as if they had been picked up at the local thrift shop. Possibly from a clearance rack. The black leather was cracked in high-stress areas and worn away to reveal the fabric beneath in other places. If they ever shone, Ava thought it had been more than a decade ago.

“It’s good to see you’re here so quickly,” Blankenship said, pumping her hand hard and looking around as if expecting someone else.

“Glad to be of assistance, Mayor.” She glanced over her shoulder and back to the mayor. “Are we expecting someone else to join us?”

“Oh, no, no. I just thought…” He smoothed the sides of his jacket over the pockets and his eyes darted down the hall again. “I just thought there would be…more of you. That’s all. There are other agents, right?” he asked nervously.

“Not right now, no, sir. I’m it for now.” She gave him a wide smile even though his assumption grated at her. Was she not enough? Did he think she wasn’t equipped to handle the situation, or to make the call for more agents if she needed them?

“I’m not slinging shade, as my niece would say. I’m just very worried. These activists.” He said the two words as if they were a complete thought, a complete sentence, and as if she would understand exactly whatever he was trying to convey.

“Yes, I know UP are here, but the sheriff got them to quiet down yesterday. They’re going to at least hold off their protesting until after the funerals this morning.”

“So they say. This morning, while I was having coffee with Bonita, that’s my wife, that group already tossed it out there that they’re going to confront McDavid Lumber workers. There are a lot of those lumberjacks, Agent, and they come into Glencoe every day. Sometimes, twice a day to get food from the diner, fill their trucks with gas, grab a few groceries and whatnot before they head home, or to their campers for the night.”

“Are they camping in Glencoe?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. Some of them stay in pull-behind trailers up on the mountain a few miles from Acadia Forest, though.”

“They stay with the equipment, or because they live too far to drive home every night?”

“I think both. They’ve been working on the far side of Acadia for going on a year now. Clearing it right to the bare nothings. The activists are right about that much, but what do you do? That’s not Glencoe business. Not yet anyway.”

“I don’t have an answer for that, Mayor, but I do have a request.” She looked at her watch. The funerals would be in full swing at Forest Lawn Cemetery.

“What’s that?”

“I need to set up a base of operations somewhere, and this station just isn’t big enough. There’s no room to set up in. You have any ideas?”

A man dressed in a forest ranger’s uniform strode up. “How about over at Grace?” he asked the mayor.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chip.”

The other man stuck out his hand and smiled politely to Ava. “Chip Alcott.”

“Forest Ranger Station Chief,” Mayor Blankenship added.

Ava introduced herself and shook Alcott’s hand. “Who is Grace?”

“Grace Fellowship Baptist Church,” Alcott clarified. He turned to the mayor. “Why isn’t that a good idea? They have a fellowship hall that should offer more than enough room, and I’m sure the pastor and congregation would be glad to host the FBI for this case.”

“I’m sure, but they’re having those support meetings for that group of teens who found the bodies. Their families are coming to the meetings with them every evening, too. They use that hall because the Women’s Auxiliary is using the office and rooms behind the pulpit to put together and run the donations for the Harrises’ families.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll let everyone at the station know. They’ll want to donate.” Alcott’s expression turned deeply troubled.

“I think the better option would be the high school gymnasium. They’re taking recess outside this time of year.”

“If we could go there?” Ava prompted, not wanting to sound callous or demanding but needing to get a move on all the same. The others would arrive shortly, and she wanted everything in place so they could focus on work and not on setting up.

“Of course,” the mayor said.

Ten minutes later, Ava and Blankenship walked up the long sidewalk to the front doors of Glencoe High School. He rang the buzzer, announced himself, and waited for the door lock to disengage.

The first thing Ava noted upon entering the school was the absence of metal detectors and guards. She asked Blankenship about them.

He chuckled bemusedly. “We are a small town, Agent. No need for all the big city precautions. We have a total of two-hundred-and-twelve students in four grades here. Next year, we’ll have even less as the seniors move on and the elementary kids move up. When the school staff knows your name, your family, and probably which pew your family sits on in church on Sundays and Wednesdays, it’s hard to get by with anything. The kids here are mostly good. We have a few bad apples, just like anywhere else, but so far, we haven’t had anyone bring a gun to school or threaten to blow it up. Even with all the tourists, Glencoe is usually a quiet town as far as crime goes.”

“Good to know. That doesn’t explain where the meth came from, though. I guess not everybody is good, and there’s a little more crime than you admit here, Mayor.”

He stopped with his hand on the office door and looked squarely at her. “I said here at the school, Agent. And I said Glencoe was usually a quiet town. Of course we have crime, and of course there are junkies who call it home. That shit’s everywhere, and unfortunately, we’re no exception here.” He jerked the door open and replaced the stern, glowering expression with a politician’s smile. “James, how are ya?” he said, sticking out his hand for ‘James’ to shake.

They spoke in hushed tones for a moment, and then decided to include Ava.

“This is James Anderson, school principal.”

The man moved from behind the long counter and shook her hand. “I hear you would like to use our gym, Agent.”

“If that wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience,” she said. She didn’t want to bowl over someone and just take a place to use, but it wasn’t out of the question. The day was burning, and no one seemed in as much of a hurry as she.

Principal Anderson nodded emphatically and led them to the gym. After making sure it was suitable for the FBI’s use, he texted something on his phone, and offered for Ava and Blankenship to sit by the stage.

“I really don’t have time for a social call, James,” Blankenship said. “I have business to attend. Glencoe won’t run itself, you know.”

“Sure it will, Rog. I think that’s what it was doing until you got elected, wasn’t it?”

Both men laughed.

Blankenship took his leave. His shoes were so worn they didn’t even click as he moved swiftly for the exit door. Unable to quell her curiosity, she asked, “What’s with the mayor’s shoes, Mr. Anderson?”

“He is going out to talk to a couple of farmers today. He won’t wear his good shoes out on the farms. That’s what he says, anyway. Between you and me? I think he wears them because he feels like it endears him to the farmers.”

“Wow. I hope that’s not the reason. That’s insulting, in my opinion.”

Anderson nodded. “He’s always doing things like that to try to keep in people’s good graces, though. A true politician. But make no mistake about it, he loves this town, and he would do anything in his power to protect it and the folks who live here.”

A few minutes later, a group of people walked in. Ava assumed they were staff at the school, and when they were introduced, she found she was right.

With their help, and donations from classroom excess supplies, one end of the gym was transformed into a command center Ava was proud of. Two large whiteboards had been rolled in and placed on one side, a mobile chalk board of similar size was also put in place. Two extra cafeteria tables were set end-to-end down the center of the room, and a library table with chairs was set at the end of the makeshift room closest to the door Blankenship had exited through.

Ava looked at the handywork and thanked everyone. “Looks like all I need now is some tape and a corkboard with pushpins,” she quipped to Anderson.

A short woman with straight blonde hair that curled under at the ends turned and held up a hand. “I have that. It’s not a corkboard per se, but it’s a roll of the cork I put in the frames at the front of my classroom. And pushpins? Pfft. I have a bucket full of those things along with rolls and rolls of clear tape, paper tape, painter’s blue tape, and even some electrical tape.” She adjusted her glasses and then clasped her hands. “Which do you prefer?”

“Uhm, clear. I guess,” Ava said, taken off-guard. “Thank you,” she called after the woman. “If everyone in Glencoe is this helpful and friendly, it should make our job all the easier,” she said to Anderson.

“Well, it should be pretty darn easy then because this is how ninety percent of the people around here act.”

Finishing up at the school, Ava called to check when the team would land. Sal told her they should be there within the hour.

“And Ashton is stuck working on that money laundering case,” Sal said.

“Money laundering? I didn’t know—”

“The one that involves the internet, two US Attorneys, a renowned senator, and that whole team of tech wizards trying to erase all traces of the wrongdoings. Ashton is working with the geek squad on this one. They have their hands full.”

“I thought they were close to closing that case.”

“Until the guys on the other end hired that team of professional bad-behavior-erasers.”

“I’m headed to speak with the detective now. I will be ready for the others when they get here.”

They ended the call, and Ava walked the few blocks back to the sheriff’s station and the detective’s office. Surely, he would be in. It was almost lunchtime.

Detective Adam Senn wasn’t thrilled that the FBI had been called in on the case, but when are they ever thrilled about it? Ava navigated his initial distrust, cynicism, and jabs like a racecar driver avoiding crashes on the course, with speed and agility, and she didn’t let him see that it ruffled her at all. It worked because twenty minutes into their meeting, he stopped trying to get under her skin, and all attempts to let her know how angry he was about her taking on the case ceased.

Once they were settled and being productive, Ava got to see the autopsy reports of David and Laura Harris, the two human victims. To her, that was the heart of the case. If someone injected the bears, and that injection caused them to rage and kill the Harrises, that person, or persons, needed to pay for the deaths. She would call it murder-by-proxy, but she wasn’t sure what the courts would call it, or if they would call it anything at all. Negligent homicide? Not their fault? At least she could hope to find who had the meth and make them pay for that crime. She would do everything in her power to get murder charges but wouldn’t hold her breath. The families left behind to grieve the loss of Mr. and Mrs. Harris deserved more than the culprits getting tagged with drug charges.

“The bears definitely killed the Harrises,” Senn said. “Their DNA was all over the animals. Paws, claws, teeth, fur.”

“Do you have a working theory about what happened?”

“I do, actually. I didn’t think you’d care, you being a bigshot fed and all.”

“Detective Senn, let’s dispense with the dividing lines. There is no you and then me; there’s us. We’re a team here, and I would like to continue this investigation knowing that you agree with that.”

Red-faced, Senn sniffed loudly and turned to the papers on his desk. “I think one bear attacked Laura, the other attacked David, and then the bears were off to wreak havoc in town. That’s my working theory. We’re having to clean blood and gore from the windows, doors, sidewalks, and the shelves of Buena Breads. You don’t know the bakery. You don’t know the owners. It’s not your bakery, but it is ours here in Glencoe. And those two hikers were residents. New ones, but still, they had moved in and made themselves part of this community.” He lowered his voice and shot daggers from his eyes. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to clean pieces and traces and smears of two people you knew? Clean them up all over town. And then the activists come in and just drool at the chance to stir up trouble, to squeal and howl about the rights of those two bears. To hell with the people who were ripped to shreds, right? So, if I come off a little less than cheerful, you have a clue as to why.”

“I can’t say that I understand how you feel because I’ve never been in your situation, Detective. What I can say is that I want to work to get this case solved, and that means figuring out who shot those bears with meth.”

“Those people are the real criminals here; I agree. But I cannot hide my disgust and my anger at the activists for coming down on us for destroying the bears. I won’t stand for much of it, I tell you.”

“Then, by all means, we should avoid having you near them as much as possible. Just remember that you are a representative of the law in town. People, both residents and visitors alike, look to you to see how to handle these sorts of high-stress situations. If you blow up and start a fight with the activists, how do you think the residents will react? How do you think they’ll handle their rising anger toward the group?”

“And maybe I’d turn a blind eye. If that meant the group would load up their buses and trucks and get the hell out of Glencoe, I might. Representative or not.”

“That would bring more trouble to the town, and you know it. I understand how difficult it is to keep your cool all the time, but the residents and the town officials expect no less of you. Neither do I. If you can’t handle being part of the investigation, just say the word.”

He eyed her for a few moments. “I can handle it. I’m just angrier than ever at the activists. It’s just wrong, what they’re doing.”

“But it is their right as American citizens. As long as they act within those rights, there’s little to be done.”

“I don’t need a government, law, rights, or ethics refresher, thank you very much. I think you should talk with Chip. Ranger Alcott, I mean. We all call him Chip because—”

“It’s a small, tight-knit community and you’re all friends and acquaintances. I get it. I don’t need to be schooled in how small towns work. Not my first rodeo.”

Senn scoffed. His anger had not been assuaged much, and Ava thought the best course was to let him simmer a while longer. He would come around soon enough. His kind always did. He was angry, and he had every right to be.

“Do you have Chip’s phone number?” She took out her phone and punched in the number as Senn read it off his. “Thank you.” She walked out of the office and toward the exit as she called Alcott’s phone.

Ten minutes later, Ranger Alcott pulled up in front of the station and motioned to her.

“Senn not helpful?” he asked as she got in.

“Why would you think that?” She gave a half-grin.

He smirked. “He’s upset, and rightly so. He’s taking all this pretty hard. Don’t hold it against him. He’s a good guy and a better detective.”

“You on his payroll?” She laughed. It was the first time since arriving in Glencoe.

“It’s cash. How could I say no?”

The activists had not arrived at Game and Wildlife.

“Looks like they lost interest already,” Ava said, noting their absence.

“Oh, no. They didn’t. You can bet your bottom dollar they’re somewhere cooking up a way to get everyone riled again.”

“Where are they staying? Do they sleep on the bus or what?”

“Acadia Forest’s main campground. The one closest to the teaching center and the conservatory and gardens.”

“I bought a keychain from the conservatory shop last time I was here.”

“Really? What was it, a rabbit or a fox?”

“Neither. It was a white oak. On the back, it had information about the tree, how long it typically lived, the types of soil best suited for its growth, and how the wood is prized for its strength.”

“Color me impressed. When were you here last? I wasn’t aware you were a regular visitor.”

“I’m not. Not really. I was about thirteen last time I was here. I came with my parents, my best friend, and her mother.” Memories of Molly and herself as preteens and new teens flooded her mind, and she smiled. The smile fell away as the newer images of Molly replaced the old. She didn’t look much like her old self anymore. Her physical beauty had been pretty much stripped away at the hands of her captors for those seven long years. She was still beautiful on the inside, though. Mostly.

“Sounds like a good time.”

“It was,” she replied simply. “So, what’s your take on the bear attacking the Harrises?” She wanted to get back on track with the investigation. No need to exchange pleasantries with a man she would never see again once the case was closed.

“I think one of the bears attacked Mrs. Harris near the tent and firepit. Maybe very close to it. That bear dragged her away from the site, thrashed her, killed her. It was frenzied, and probably completely unprovoked. From what I could gather from looking at the undisturbed scenes, David had been gathering firewood when he was attacked. His death was less…brutal than Laura’s. And again, it seemed unprovoked. They were just going about their business. There was no food in sight, and Laura’s bear spray was found unused on the ground by the tent. David’s knife was still in its sheath. The strap hadn’t even been unsnapped.”

“So the attacks were fast and lethal. Out of the blue. Unexpected. That’s what you’re saying.”

“That is exactly what I’m saying. The Harrises wouldn’t have walked up on the bears or provoked them. They were knowledgeable and conscientious campers, which was obvious by their past and the little camping mementos in their home. They weren’t newbies. They were well-seasoned hikers.”

“Why do you think one bear attacked Mr. Harris and the other attacked Mrs. Harris? And wouldn’t one of them hear the other screaming if a bear was tearing into them? Were they far apart? There are so many questions.”

“They weren’t too far away from each other, and if one screamed, the other would have heard for sure. That’s one reason I believe the attacks happened almost simultaneously. There were no signs of either person running to help the other. Laura might have heard David yell, she started away from the campsite to see what was going on, and the larger bear attacked her. Still, she did not provoke or try to protect herself with any of the weapons or the bear spray, and she didn’t get far from the tent and firepit.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a coordinated strike. We can both agree that bears aren’t out in the woods practicing warfare tactics, right?”

“It is also very, very rare for black bears to attack people, but they did. I guess when they’re loaded on drugs, they can act as out of character as people.”

“Did you see which direction their prints came from? Were the bears traveling together or separately?”

“Yes, they seemed to come upon David together from the same direction. I don’t know what Nate thinks or knows about the effects of meth in bears, but I’m willing to bet my salary that the effects are short-lived and ferocious. They got injected somewhere relatively close to where the carnage began.”

“Are we sure the carnage started with Mr. and Mrs. Harris?”

Alcott looked troubled. “We searched the perimeter and found nothing, but we didn’t have a clear direction to follow. The tracks weren’t visible past a certain point, and it became impossible to trace their route.”

“What I’m hearing is that there could have been other attacks before the Harrises.”

Running a hand under his hat, he ruffed his short-cropped hair and shook his head. “God, I hope not.”

A cold, heavy pit lay where Ava’s stomach once was. She looked across the way at the eastern side of Acadia Forest. The place was vast and covered in dense woods. If there were other victims, how long before they were discovered?

Metford, Santos, and Dane arrived at three that afternoon. Ashton stayed in Fairhaven to continue with the money laundering case.

“Glencoe makes me think of that movie Wrong Turn,” Santos said. There was no humor in her voice.

“I think it’s charming,” Dane said.

“Smells like adventure to me,” Metford said, taking a deep breath and looking toward the mountain peak visible in the distance.

“There’s something wrong with all of you. This place is isolated, closed in with mountains all around, and Glencoe is just a wide spot in the road from what I’ve seen,” Santos noted. “Makes me feel claustrophobic.”

Metford scoffed at her. “Why does the ranger think this was two different bears that attacked the victims? Isn’t it more likely that one bear did it and the other was just there, maybe following its mate, or whatever?”

“The degree of violence differed drastically from one vic to the other. Now, with the bite marks and claw marks matched up with the actual bears, they can tell that the larger male bear killed Mrs. Harris, and the smaller female killed Mr. Harris,” Ava explained.

“What’s the game plan?” Santos asked. “I’d just as soon be done with this case and get out of here.”

“We’re set up in the high school gymnasium. I’ve spoken with Sheriff Carter and his people. We’ve come up with a list of preliminary interviews to do. The first one should arrive soon.”

“The first one is who?” Metford asked.

“Pastor Jamie Rivers. The youth group and their parents will be there as well. Detective Senn is going to assist with the interviews. Detective Miller will be joining us later to assist, too.”

“How old are the kids in the youth group?” Dane asked.

“Ages twelve to seventeen, I believe,” Ava said.

“And they’re the ones who found the vics?” Santos asked, her face twisted into a shocked expression mixed with sadness.

“Yes, they found the Harrises.”

“Can anyone say ‘traumatized for life’?” Metford said.

“That’s years and years of therapy,” Dane said.

“I doubt that,” Santos said. “That’s not usually how things play out in a small town. They play their cards close to their chests, and they believe going to therapy would be a sign of weakness. Places like this? You don’t want to be seen as a weak person.”

Dane gave her a doubtful look. “You talk about it like you have experience.”

“She does,” Metford said. “She’s from one of these little backwoods small towns, aren’t you, Santos?”

“I might know a thing or two about small-town mentality.”

They reached the high school and prepared for the interview process to begin.

“Are there any more drug-dazed bears on the loose?” Metford asked.

Sheriff Carter walked briskly toward them. “Well, I certainly hope not, Agent,” he answered while still halfway across the gym.

“Ranger Alcott was speaking to people returning from longer hikes and some campers to see if there had been any sightings,” Ava offered. She didn’t know if the sheriff and Alcott were in close communication on the situation.

“That’s real good,” Carter said. “I got my deputies out there rounding up all the known druggies in the area.”

“Why?” Metford asked. “You think one of them got close enough to the bears to inject them?”

“Probably not, Agent, but those drugs had to come from somewhere, and I want to find out who’s cooking meth, transporting it, dealing it, and using it. All infractions need to be dealt with, but I want to find the source.”

“You don’t know if anyone’s cooking in Glencoe?” Santos asked.

“No, ma’am. We know a few of the worst junkies who come through here are on the stuff, but we’ve never had any indication of anyone cooking it here.”

Pastor Rivers walked into the gym wringing his hands lightly. Ava thought it was his default setting to look slightly worried all the time. She motioned for him.

He looked over his shoulder as if to make sure she was speaking to him. When he turned back, he said, “The kids and their parents will be here in a moment. They were in the parking lot just now.”

“That’s fine, Pastor Rivers. We can go ahead and get started. They can join us when they get in here.” Ava smiled and motioned for him to sit across from her at one of the library tables. It felt more intimate than the long cafeteria table with the attached round seats. That felt a bit too much like a prison table for her liking.

Pastor Rivers was a compassionate man and gentle in his nature. He was more worried for the members of the youth group than for himself. Ava liked him, and she sympathized with his worry for the kids.

“I know that Ace has some troubles,” Rivers said in a tone of confidence. “If you could find it in your heart to not judge her by her brother’s actions like the others in town do, I would appreciate it. I’m sure she would, too.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Ava admitted.

“Ace’s older brother is Needles Martinez. Because he’s a bad seed, a lot of people just assume that she will follow in his footsteps. That’s not so. She is trying hard to be a better person even though she is being raised in the same environment he was.” He gestured toward a girl who looked to be about fourteen and sitting alone. “You see she’s the only kid without a parent present.” He gave Ava a knowing look.

“Needles. I take it that’s not his real name.”

“No. It’s just what everyone calls him because of his addiction. His real name is Eddie, but he even refers to himself as Needles. Kid wears his addiction like a badge of honor.” He shook his head sadly.

“I can get him help, if he wants it.”

“If he accepted, it would be a miracle. Not that I don’t believe in miracles, but he never wanted help. I even tried to get him into rehab and got a black eye from the encounter.”

“Duly noted. Eddie Martinez has violent tendencies,” she spoke aloud as she wrote the note on paper. Eddie could know something about the meth used to inject the bears. Maybe he knew the source.

Ava thanked the pastor and gave him her card. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful. Call anytime day or night.”

Metford interviewed Ty Johnson and his parents. Dane spoke with Meg Carter and her parents. Santos was speaking with Ethan Brooks, and from the look on his face, she was causing him some distress. His parents seemed fine with the questions, so Ava let it ride. Detective Senn spoke with Lonnie Jenkins and his parents. The kid kept laughing, but it was nervous laughter. Ava figured it was his coping mechanism.

Two girls were left to speak with. Ava motioned for Ace Martinez to come to the table. She looked as if she were overcompensating for feeling seriously out of place and scared. She sat with her arms slung over the back of her chair, left ankle on right knee, and chewing gum loudly. The dark, bold lines of makeup around her eyes and the deep red-wine lipstick stood out starkly and made her seem older than she was.

Ace nodded and made a finger-gun at Ava as she moved from the chair. Her self-assured, leisurely strides were a little too confident to be natural. Overcompensating again, Ava thought.

“Where should I sit, Big Gun?” Ace asked, grinning. It was an expression that never fully reached her eyes.

“It’s Special Agent James, and you can sit wherever you’re comfortable, Miss Martinez.”

“Wow,” she said, drawing out the word as she eyed the wooden chairs. “You know, I’d be most comfortable sitting on my bed.” She leaned forward and twirled a chair backward before straddling it and putting her arms on the backrest. “At home,” she finished.

“This won’t take long, I promise.” Ava smiled. She couldn’t tell if it was forced or not. The brash girl had her off her game a little.

“That would make me happier than waking up rich.” She made a rolling gesture with her hand. “If we could get it going, that’d be great.”

Ava sighed and looked to her paper.

“What?” Ace asked, offended.

“Nothing. I can’t think of much that would make me happier than waking up rich, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Well, that ain’t never gonna happen. In the realm of things that will make me happy, I prefer to stick to reality.”

Impressed, Ava nodded. “That’s a good way to look at it, Ace.”

“A minute ago, it was Miss Martinez. I say two things and all of a sudden we’re on a first-name basis?”

“Do you prefer being called Miss Martinez?”

For a moment, the badass attitude slipped, and Ava got a glimpse of the vulnerable girl underneath. “Nah,” she said, recovering quickly. “Ace is my name, and I like it fine. Call me Ace.”

“And you can call me Ava, if you would like. I just need to ask you about—”

“The dead bodies,” Ace finished for her. Again, that hard outer shell cracked and revealed the true Ace hiding underneath.

“Yes. The victims. Did you see the bears or any other people around?”

“No bears. You mean, like, people other than the group I was with?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“No. Not around where the bodies…uhm, the victims were. There were people at the campground below, though.”

“Did you recognize any of them?”

“Why? Are they in trouble?”

“No. Not at all. We just need to know who to question.”

“Bears killed those two people. Why do you need to question people?” She narrowed her eyes with suspicion.

“Because this is an ongoing investigation, and I can’t discuss particulars with anyone.” Ava smiled to take the sting out of her words.

“But you’re asking me for particulars about dead bodies I saw, right?” The smirk didn’t have to appear on her face, it was in her voice.

“That’s my job, Ace. I thought you wanted this to be quick.”

“I do.” She held the backrest in both hands and leaned back. “So, yeah. I saw a couple people I recognized at the campground.” She chomped the gum annoyingly for a moment and looked as if she were sizing Ava up, deciding if she really wanted to tell her anything more.

“Ace, who did you see at the campground?”

“Okay, I guess you’re legit. If not, at least I know they are.”

“Who is?”

“Miss Adams. Rachel Adams and Sticks Everett. They are the most legit people other than Pastor Rivers that I know.”

“Okay, so, Rachel Adams and Sticks Everett? Is Sticks a real name?”

Ace snorted laughter and covered her mouth quickly with one hand. “No, dummy. We all call him Sticks because he’s bone-thug skinny and got these long spindly arms and legs. He like watches birds all the time. Seriously, all his spare time is spent out there watching birds. He’s a little weird, but I like him. Most people avoid him because he looks at you weird, but he’s harmless.”

“Okay, but what’s his real name? Do you know it?”

“Yeah, it’s Sam.” She shrugged. “See? Sticks is a way cooler name.”

“If you say so. What about Rachel Adams?”

“Oh, she’s this environmentalist who lives in Carlos, but comes here for Acadia. She’s real passionate about protecting the environment and especially wildlife. I like her. She’s cool to just hang with and listen to. She knows a lot about animals and birds.” She smiled and held up a finger. “Her and Sticks would make a super-cute couple. Well, maybe not in the looks department, but they definitely complement each other.”

“An environmentalist. Interesting that you like her so much.”

She shot forward in the seat and glared. “Why’s that so interesting? You think I ain’t smart enough to like somebody like her? Somebody so smart and accomplished? Screw you.” She shot up from her seat so fast that it banged into the table.

“Ace,” Ava called. Her tone suddenly reminded her of her mother’s scolding tone. She tried again. “Ace, that’s not what I meant, and we’re not finished yet.”

The girl spun and smirked again. “Would you look at that?” She looked at her non-existent watch. “It’s getting late. Gotta go or my parents will be worried.” She twiddled her fingers and turned to leave with long strides.

“Looks like that went well,” a man in a suit remarked as he entered via the nearby side door.

“Yeah. Guess my skills with teens are lacking.” She introduced herself and asked who he was.

“Detective Mark Miller, Glencoe Sheriff’s Department.” He took a seat at the short end of the table. “Your skills in general are probably fine. Martinez is the problem. Just like her brother, mother, and father. You know what they say about the apple and the tree.” He stood and reached for the interviewee list without asking.

Ava pulled the list back. “It might not fall far from the tree, but it can grow taller and stronger. All it needs is a little help. A little water during a dry spell; a trim at the right time, and maybe a support when winds are high.”

Miller grinned and leaned close. “And when it grows up, it will still be the same kind of apple tree as the one it fell from in the beginning. If you’re not going to let me see the interviewee paper, there’s a ballgame on television I’m missing.”

“I’ll finish these. I think Sheriff Carter will have some interviews lined up for you.” She looked pointedly across the gym at the sheriff.

Miller glanced in that direction, stood straight, pulled his hand back, and said, “It sure was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” The word rolled off her tongue tasting sour. It was rare that Ava met someone and disliked them so much right from the start.

Taking a brief moment to collect her thoughts, Ava called the last girl from the youth group and her parents. “Sophie Guy?” she said, making sure all the edge was gone from her voice.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she looked questioningly at her mother and father. Mom patted the girl’s leg and whispered a reassurance as she motioned for Sophie to stand. Dad put his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and led her to the table.

Sophie was eager to cooperate, but she had to stop several times to cry during the recounting of finding the bodies. Ava thanked Sophie and gave her parents a card. “Call anytime if she remembers anything else.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Sophie said, her voice rising. “I told you everything, every horrible detail, and you can’t make me talk about it anymore.” Panic drove her tone higher and louder, drawing the attention of everyone in the gymnasium.

“It’s okay, Sophie,” Ava said in a low voice. “You don’t have to unless you remember something else. You can just tell Mom and Dad, and they can call me. Okay?”

Sophie stared wide-eyed at Ava, her bottom lip and chin quivering. Unshed tears in her eyes sparkled under the fluorescents high above. Suddenly, the girl broke away from her father and ran sobbing out the door.

Ava watched her go, sighing heavily. She couldn’t remember a time when she was so emotional as a teen. Maybe she had been, but she couldn’t recall it.

“Wow, that went splendidly,” Metford said. He tossed up a hand at Ty and his parents as they left quietly. “You made one cuss you out and the next one run away crying.” He grinned and tapped her shoulder lightly. “I’d say that’s two for two. You gonna do the other interviews that way?”

“Teenagers, Metford. They’re like tornadoes of emotions. Bring on the adults.” She hoped the adults were more composed than the kids.

“Don’t look now, but here comes the first group, and they don’t look real happy to be here.”

Ava saw the two men come in first. Deputy Jenkins and another officer escorted them and a woman who looked to be floating somewhere just shy of the stratosphere.

“Ten bucks says you can make the guy with the face tattoos run out of here crying, too,” Metford said.

“You just won the draw,” Ava said. “Don’t drag out your wallet.” She motioned to the cafeteria table. “You get to interview Mr. Face Ink.” Smiling, she walked by Metford and motioned for the other man to come to her table.

Jenkins walked him over. “Want me to sit in, Agent?”

“No. I’ve got it, Jenkins, but thanks all the same.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s wily. Want me to put a cuff around the table leg?”

Ava held her measured smile although she wanted to reprimand Jenkins. Looking into the interviewee’s eyes, she asked, “You are going to behave, right? No funny business, no trying to attack anyone, nothing stupid, right?”

“I ain’t that stupid, sis.”

“What’s your name?” Ava ignored how he addressed her.

“Needles. Martinez is the family name.” His eyes slid to the side, stopped on a chair, and he flopped down on it, leaned back, legs spread, hands draped between his legs. He sucked on his teeth, and for a moment, Ava was reminded of Ace and her extremely loud chewing gum. “You got a name, sis?”

Ava gave Jenkins a glance that let him know it was okay to walk away. “Special Agent James. And you are Eddie Martinez, correct?”

“Yeah. Why am I here? I don’t know anything about dead people and bears, lady.”

Again, Ava chose to ignore his lack of manners in addressing her. “But you know something about the drugs in Glencoe, don’t you?”

The color drained from Eddie’s face. “The cops done checked me. I ain’t got nothing on me. Can I go now?”

“Eddie, I want to know where you get your fixes.”

“You wanting to sign my death warrant? I ain’t dying for you.”

Ava wrote. “You’re afraid of your supplier. Not surprising. It’s meth or heroin, which is your preferred drug, Eddie? I’m thinking maybe both, but from the looks of those tracks on your arm, maybe it’s heroin.”

Looking down at his exposed inner arms, he snickered. “Those are old.”

“Which means you either got clean or switched to something else. It’s meth, isn’t it?”

He shook his head and looked at the floor. An admission without uttering a word.

Ava lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Where do you get the meth, Eddie? Two people are dead. Mauled to death by bears that were injected with it. What if there are more animals out there running around in a drug-induced rage? You want to wake up with a drugged-up bear in your room one day?”

“Psssh,” he exclaimed, giving an air of nonchalance. His eyes told a different story. The thought worried him, but he wouldn’t show it so easily.

Ava sat back in her seat and twisted a pen in her fingers. “What about your little sister, Ace? She likes going into the woods, being close to nature. She could be in danger.”

“Don’t try to guilt trip me, and leave my sister out of this. She’s smart enough to stay out of the woods after what happened.”

“Did you know she was there? She saw those hikers after the bears killed them.”

His eyes went wide, but he caught himself and lowered his eyelids to half-mast again. Still playing like he was a West Coast thug. “Nah, man. She woulda called me if that happened.”

“Would she? She was there with the Grace Fellowship Baptist youth group. Nice bunch of kids.”

“Ace was with a church group?”

Ava nodded.

“Did you talk to her already?”

“Only a few minutes ago. Seems like she’s got her head on right. Not on dope, tough as leather, but she’s heading in the right direction to make something of her life. She’s smart, too.”

He smiled, and for a second, he looked like any other young man in town. Charming, handsome good guy. “Smartass, too. Man, she’s mean with that mouth sometimes. She can fight like a wildcat, too. I feel almost sorry for her future husband.”

“So, where do you get your meth, Eddie? We know there aren’t many suppliers around, but you and some of the others always seem to find it somewhere. If you want to make sure Ace is safe out there, tell me where you get it?”

He hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees. “I ain’t know anybody stupid enough to let a bear get in his stash, okay?”

“The bears were injected. They didn’t accidentally get into someone’s drugs.”

“Why the hell would somebody do that?” He looked genuinely shocked.

“The real question is who did it, Eddie. You have prior drug convictions. Possession, possession with intent, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and two recorded overdoses. You almost died, Eddie. And you gave alcohol and opioids to a minor.”

“Hey, she said she was twenty, and excuse me if I didn’t check her ID. I did my time for my crimes. How you know I ain’t went straight now?”

“Because your last sentence was finished only three months ago.”

“And I coulda gone clean after serving it.”

“But your last overdose was only a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t get drugs anymore. I don’t know anything about your case.” He sat back and crossed his arms. His expression tightened and didn’t budge again. He was done.

Ava offered to get him into rehab, set him up with assistance that would help get him in better financial shape, but he only laughed and shook his head. She dismissed him feeling as if she had failed not only him but his sister as well.

Santos paced the gym’s office. “I want to be tested for everything,” she said angrily.

“You will be. I’m sure everything’s fine,” Ava said, bringing her a spare shirt to put on. It was black with big gold lettering across the front and back. FBI, it announced. Watch your step, I’m federal, it declared.

Santos pulled on the shirt and ran a hand down its front. “I feel like a billboard. What size is this thing anyway?” The hem reached almost to mid-thigh.

“I don’t know. It was in the spare box in the back of the SUV.”

Santos grabbed a handful of the material from the shoulder and sniffed it. “At least it doesn’t smell like rum puke and soured chili fries. I can’t believe she puked on me. No wonder they call her Lisa the Lush.” She stormed to the door and yanked it open. “I hope Ms. Reynolds is sleeping it off in solitary.” She walked angrily toward where two people were busy cleaning up Lisa’s mess from the table, floor, seat, and Santos’ papers.

Ava gave it a minute or two and then walked out. The team were finished with their interviews, and everyone was stressed. “I think it’s time to take a break,” Ava announced.

“I second that,” Metford said. “Is there somewhere to get something to eat in town?”

Santos made a face and groaned. “Seriously? You have an appetite after that?” She jerked her head to indicate the mess from Lisa the Lush.

He shrugged. “I didn’t get hit with the overspray.”

“Okay, that’s disgusting,” Dane said, holding up a hand to try to quiet Metford. “Let’s just go, shall we?” She looked to Ava for confirmation.

“Definitely. Santos, I can drop you at the hotel, if you want.”

They walked out the door and toward the SUV. “I don’t know. I guess, for once, Metford’s got the right idea. I’ve not eaten since before sunrise this morning.”

Metford laughed. “Cast iron stomach. I knew you weren’t that fragile. A little puke can’t keep you down for long.”

Ava drove through town, taking Main Street. There were only three traffic lights. At the last one, she turned left. On the corner of the next block was the diner she’d been told about. The Oak Table wasn’t huge, but it was larger than some of the other businesses in Glencoe. It was larger than the police station. Large, dirty pickups took up one entire section of parking.

Santos leaned to look back at the trucks as Ava circled the lot for a good spot. “What’s with all the dirty pickups?”

“Maybe they’re the backcountry equivalent to Ubers,” Metford joked.

“Probably the McDavid Lumber crew. They’re working a job a few miles south of here, but this is the closest place for them to get something to eat, I guess,” Ava said. “Or maybe it’s cheaper or easier to get to and from their job site.”

“If a crew like that chooses The Oak Table for their meals, then you know the eating is going to be good,” Metford said.

“If you say so,” Santos said. “I can’t get the smell of soured chili cheese fries out of my sinuses. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat them again.”

“Be glad the smell is all that got in your sinuses,” Metford said, cringing. “I thought she got you in the face the way she shot forward on her seat.”

“Can we stop talking about it now?” Ava asked in a tone implying it wasn’t really a request.

They went inside. A young, smiling waitress told them to sit wherever they wanted. Avoiding the large crew of men who smelled like sawdust and looked like they belonged to the trucks outside, Ava and the team went to a far corner at the back and took a large oval table.

The waitress took their orders to the kitchen and returned with their drinks. Her sweet smile had turned into a pinched, worried expression.

“Everything all right?” Ava asked.

“Yeah, I mean, yes, ma’am.” She glanced out the large glass front of the diner to the road, jerked her gaze back to the drinks, and frowned deeper.

Ava craned her neck to look out at the same place. Immediately, she saw the reason for the girl’s distress. Seven people in United Paws t-shirts stood on the sidewalk across the street. More members walked toward them through the end of the park. There was lots of finger-pointing, and it seemed the members were getting worked up over something.

The waitress left, and Ava stared at the activists outside. It took a few seconds for it to click what was getting ready to happen, and by then it was too late.

“Come on,” she said loudly to the team.

“What is it?” They all acted at once, following Ava without question and on high alert.

“Sirs, sirs,” Ava said, trying to get the attention of the men up front. “Excuse me,” she said louder as one of the men stood and yelled at the activists.

A heavyset man in his fifties came from the kitchen yelling that everyone better calm down and not tear up his diner. He carried a baseball bat.

Ava saw the bat. “Santos, take the bat from him before he gets hurt.”

Santos went for the man, who immediately put up an argument. Ava turned back to the men at the table, who were on their way outside to confront the activists.

“Don’t engage with them!” she yelled over the raised voices. “FBI!” she yelled when nothing seemed to draw even a glance from the men.

“Metford, Dane, outside. We can’t let this go down.” Ava ran for the side door. The main entrance was packed and crowded with big burly lumberjacks.

Ava and Metford made it around the corner first and started for the group, announcing themselves when the first punch was thrown. From there, the situation degraded quickly, and everyone swore, flung threats, threw punches, pulled hair, spit. It was complete chaos, and there was no way to stop it.

The melee seemed endless. Ava managed to pull two female activists off one of the lumber crew. She managed to get cuffs on one before she tried to fling herself back into the fray.

Metford pulled one of the lumber crew away from the ruckus and caught an elbow in the eye for his effort.

Santos came out of the diner pointing a pistol to the sky. She screamed for the men to stop fighting, and when they didn’t, she fired the gun. Ava rushed to Santos, panicked.

Ava snatched the pistol, and Santos gave it over easily. “What the hell are you doing, Santos?” Ava asked, her eyes wide and her head ringing with adrenaline.

“Relax, Ava, it’s just a starter’s pistol. I know the rules, teacher. I did the homework. I ain’t gonna discharge a firearm here.”

The shot rang out and most of the fighting halted as the men looked toward Ava and Santos. Three duos still danced and punched and tussled, though. No matter what Ava and the team did, they would not disengage.

Police car sirens cut through the air and the lights washed the scrabbling men and the diner with disco ball pulses of red and blue. Carter stepped out of the cruiser in the front, and Jenkins stepped from the one in back.

Carter did discharge his firearm. The fighting ceased, and he took control of the scene, wading into the aftermath of the multi-player street fight.

“What in Sam Hill is going on here?” he bellowed at two activists standing to the side and nursing busted lips and noses. “I told you: Not in my town. I won’t tolerate this, and now you’re under arrest!” He yelled the last two words so loudly that the sound echoed.

“Who are you arresting, Sheriff?” a lumber man asked. “They started this wildfire. We was just eating, and they—”

Carter turned on the younger, more muscled man. “Do I look like I give a tinker’s damn who started this mess, son?”

The man glared but said nothing.

“That’s right; I don’t. I pulled in and saw every single one of you fighting, disturbing the peace, and actively breaking the law.” He pointed toward the brick wall at the end of the diner. “Line ‘em up and keep your mouths shut,” he ordered, sounding like a drill sergeant.

Ava went to the woman she had cuffed and put her with the others on the sidewalk. A man with the activist group swayed on his feet. Ava grabbed his arm, but he was big, caught her off guard and off balance, and they both ended up on the concrete.

Metford rushed to them. He pulled the man roughly upward with an angry expression until he realized the man was out cold.

“I’m fine,” Ava said. “I tried to catch him. I think he hit his head on the concrete.” She moved to see the back of his head. A thin line of blood showed through his buzz-cut blond hair. “He did. Sheriff, we’re going to need an ambulance for this one.”

Two of the other activists broke from the lineup and ran to the fallen man. The sheriff yelled at them. The woman went to her knees and patted the man’s face.

“Adam, Adam. Open your eyes, Adam. Come on, you big lug.”

“What’s his name?” Ava asked.

“Adam Salyers,” the woman said.

The man with her felt for a pulse and sighed with relief. “You best be glad he’s alive,” he said to Ava.

“I didn’t do this,” she said. “You and your crew were warned and talked to and treated much better than you would have been in other towns, but you wouldn’t listen. This is the outcome. Don’t move him. The ambulance will take him to the hospital.”

Ugly dark bruises were already evident on the man’s face. His lip was swollen and split in two places, and Ava thought he might have been missing a tooth.

“Better call another bus, Sheriff!” Jenkins yelled from the end of the alley. “Woman just hit the ground, and her buddy is beat up pretty bad, too. They’ll need transport to the hospital.”

One of the lumber crew slid down the wall as if he were melting into the concrete under his feet. The man to his left looked at him with a cockeyed grin, and then panic swept over his features.

“Chains, man, you okay?” the man asked as he stepped away from the wall and reached down to help his friend who was on his butt by then.

Sheriff Carter jerked the standing man away. “Back against the wall, mister. I didn’t tell you to move. You are under arrest, which means your ass is mine.” Sheriff Carter bent to check the unconscious man’s pulse. He removed his fingers from the man’s throat and yelled at him to open his eyes, but the man didn’t respond.

“What’s wrong with him?” another man asked with fear in his voice. “Is Chains alive? Them two right there jumped him.” He pointed at the woman who had crumpled to the pavement at the mouth of the alley and the man at her side, sitting with her head in his lap and looking like a whipped dog.

Two ambulances whooped their sirens as they rounded the corner from Main Street. A third wailed in the distance.

All told, four people went to the hospital. One lumberjack and three activists.

Back at the station, Ava and her team helped sort the mess out.

Adam Salyers had jumped Casey O’Hara, the giant, muscle-bound redhead from the logging crew. Casey’s nickname was Knuckles, and from what Ava gathered, he came by the name honestly. He would fight at the drop of a hat, and when Adam Salyers threw the first punch, Knuckles worked him over.

Knuckles was arrested, and he went to booking without having to be handcuffed, wearing a one-sided grin the whole way. He would have a swollen cheek and a black eye the next day. Otherwise, he was no worse for the fight. The same could not be said of Mr. Salyers.

John Clemens and Lucy Bragg from UP, two smaller individuals who looked about as hardened as two goose-down pillows, had joined the fight by jumping Rusty Miller of the logging crew from behind. They all three ended up in the hospital, and their buddies ended up telling the tale of their squabble.

Sheriff Carter made three other arrests. Two more of the activists and a driver for the lumber company.

“Four in the hospital and four in jail,” Carter said. “Unbelievable. What is wrong with that group?”

Ava and the team exchanged looks but none offered an answer. It was best to keep their opinions about the activists out of the situation.

The lumberyard boss stood in the lobby with a cellphone to his ear. He paced and talked loudly, swinging his arm and making wild hand gestures the whole time.

Ava thought if he put that hand in his pocket, he might stutter when he spoke. He was a hand-talker of the highest order, and he was furious.

“Delmar’s still on the phone with Jack,” Jenkins said to Carter. “That’s gonna be hell rained down on us.”

“Who’s Jack?” Santos asked.

“Jack McDavid,” Carter said. “He owns McDavid Lumber. Delmar there said Jack was a couple towns over bidding on another job.” His tone had deflated some. Ava thought he sounded almost weary.

Moments later, Lori Haynes stormed into the station. Before anyone could try to speak, she held up papers and said, “I want Shelby and Whit out of that cell this minute. Do you hear me?”

Sheriff Carter made a disgruntled noise deep in his throat and headed for the irate woman. “Ms. Haynes,” he said, holding out a hand as if to ward her off. “Shelby and Whit broke the law. I warned you all what would happen. They were in a fight that landed four people in jail and four in the hospital. They’ll be lucky if they don’t get worse charges than disrupting the peace and fighting in public. Now, you go on home, or back to the campground, wherever you’re staying, and let this simmer down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to simmer down when my people are wrongfully imprisoned. Those loggers caused all this. Any one of them is bigger than two of my people, and you have UP members sitting in a cell?”

“They aren’t going anywhere. Not for a while, and definitely not until tomorrow when the judge hears the case. You’re wasting your time.” He turned away.

“And I can make sure it’s not peaceful at the station as long as they’re in there. I have nothing but time.”

Carter turned back to her. “And I have more empty cells. If you insist, you can stay in one close by and keep your friends company.” He smirked. There was no humor in his eyes. He meant every word.

Lori held his gaze for a few more seconds as if maybe she were trying to intimidate him, and then she spun and left in a flurry of half-threats and curses.

“That woman has a mouth like a sailor,” Carter said.

“I think you handled the situation with class,” Santos said, giving him a grin.

“Hey, that’s saying something coming from the woman who did not punch Lisa the Lush after she spewed on you earlier. I thought that took real restraint.”

“The restraint was not to yank off my clothes and throw them at her,” Santos said.

Delmar returned. “Jack just tore me a new one, Sheriff. You know those activists started all this. They meant to cause us trouble.”

“Then you and your men knew that, too, Del.”

“A man can only take so much, Sheriff. Would you let a punk like Salyers punch you in the face and not hit him back? That’s self-defense. Straight outta the book self-defense.”

“Hitting him back once or twice woulda been self-defense, Del. Knuckles in there, he plain tried to pulverize that kid’s face. He’s in the hospital, and you better hope he pulls through, or you’ll have a lawsuit to take back to Jack, and Knuckles might face life.”

“So, there’s no posting bail for him?”

Carter shook his head. “Not on these charges. Not before the judge rules tomorrow. Or the next day, if he is still in Carlos playing substitute judge.”

“What about Frenchie? He didn’t half-kill nobody.”

“No, but he elbowed a federal agent.” Carter tilted his head toward Metford, whose eye was darkening and cheek was puffy already.

“He grabbed Frenchie from behind while he was fighting. What did he expect would happen?”

“Can’t be helped, Del. He hit a federal agent all the same, and after he knew the guy was a fed, he kept fighting.”

Del took off his hat and slapped his thigh with it angrily. He walked out, leaving Knuckles and Frenchie to their fate for the night.

“Never a dull moment in a small town, eh?” Carter asked when he came back into the office through the open door. “You want to question some more people tonight? Jenkins should be able to round up some more of the ruffians in the drug scene for you pretty easy. It’s about the time of night when they start to crawl out from the shadows and start looking for trouble or drugs or booze or all three.”

“How long will it take?” Ava asked. The team groaned lightly in unison behind her, and she grinned.

“Probably about an hour. It’s only six. You could grab supper and one of us will call you when we have them over at the gym. I’m going to make some calls and see if I can get the other people from the campground to come on in and get this over with.”

“This is where we ended up last time we tried to grab a meal,” Dane joked.

“Let’s hit a drive-thru,” Metford suggested.

“Why? You don’t want anyone seeing that black eye and puffy cheek?” Santos teased.

“That doesn’t bother me a bit. I figure a drive-thru will be quicker, and at least we’ll get our food before something else happens.”

The women nodded.

“He has a point,” Ava admitted.

She asked the sheriff where the nearest fast-food was and they left.

Ava had gone to Glencoe thinking it would be a simple case compared to some she had worked. She was wrong.

After a greasy meal that sat heavily on her stomach, Ava called Sheriff Carter. There were no more ruffians to interview that night. Apparently, the ones they had questioned and let go earlier warned their acquaintances, who had made themselves scarce.

“I did get the others to agree to interviews tonight at the gym. They’re probably already there. If not, they will be shortly. I’m heading over now,” Carter said. His tone was weary.

“We’re on our way,” Ava said and hung up. Carter probably hadn’t seen so much action in Glencoe since he’d become sheriff.

Detective Miller was talking to an older couple. Detective Senn was speaking with a very expressive young woman with long blonde hair. Another woman sat alone at the library table. She looked bookish and reserved to Ava with her black-frame glasses. She sat quietly, hands folded on the table.

“I’ve got her,” Dane said, not waiting for anyone to argue with her. She moved straight to the table and introduced herself to the woman.

The woman introduced herself as Rachel Adams, and Ava immediately remembered that was the woman Ace Martinez spoke so highly about earlier. Thinking of her offhand comment to the girl, Ava watched Rachel and listened closely to the way she spoke. Her passion for the environment was evident, as was her intelligence on various subjects. She gave her statement and answered Dane’s questions quickly and efficiently, not spending any unnecessary time giving her opinions or thoughts, and then she was done. Dane thanked her, and Rachel walked out quietly with her eyes straight ahead.

Ava came away with the same opinion as before. It was interesting that Rachel was the kind of person Ace gravitated to. With her bad girl attitude and brash personality, Rachel seemed an odd choice.

Miller walked over after the older couple left. “That was Duke and Blondie Peterson. Not that I expect you know who they are, or anything about them, but their real names are Doug and Brenda. Duke is a retired forest ranger. Worked around here until he retired. Straight arrows don’t come any straighter than him.”

“And they were at the campground the day the Harrises were killed?” Ava asked.

“Yeah. They didn’t see anything out of the ordinary except the youth group as they went on up the trail.”

“Why was that out of the ordinary?” Metford asked.

“Just because it was such a large group of teenagers.”

“I thought Pastor Rivers took them hiking as somewhat of a routine thing,” Ava said.

“He does, but Duke and Blondie don’t usually see them, so they noticed them. It’s not like it’s a huge deal. What is it with you FBI always making something out of nothing and then vice versa?”

“Detective Miller, I don’t know what your beef is with us, but we are only here because Sheriff Carter and Mayor Blankenship called and asked us for help when they found out the bears had been injected prior to the killings,” Ava said, glaring at the despicable man. “If you have a problem with that decision, take it up with them. If you can’t fall in line with us being here maybe you should find somewhere else to be. We don’t have time for the junior high drama.”

“I know how this ends. We end up doing all the heavy lifting, and you come in flashing your badges and take all the credit once the case is solved.” He held up a finger to quiet her. “But only if it ends well, right? If it goes to hell in a handbasket, then you’ll gladly step aside and let us take credit. I, for one, don’t think we needed any of you here. We can handle our own.”

“Some people didn’t think so,” Ava said. “Now, did Duke say what he and his wife were doing at the campground? If he’s retired, I would think—”

“Well, don’t. That’s part of the problem with outsiders. You don’t know enough about the people around here to think anything about them. Duke spends most of his time since retirement in Acadia Forest. He and his wife were on day number three of a ten-day trip when this happened. They are respectable and trustworthy. If they said they saw nothing unusual, then there was nothing unusual going on at the campground.” He stood straight and walked toward the door without a word to anyone else.

“Love me some small-town hospitality,” Santos remarked.

“Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?” Metford said.

“Rachel Adams said she didn’t notice anything unusual, either,” Dane said, ignoring Santos’ and Metford’s banter.

“She seemed on the level, too,” Ava said. “Respectable and trustworthy, just like the Petersons.”

Dane agreed. “Dead ends all around so far. What now?”

“We have to figure out who’s cooking meth.”

“It’s such a small place, you wouldn’t think it would be so difficult to figure out who the bad guy is, or guys,” Dane said. “In a place even like back home, I can understand it, but here? There are what, a few thousand people at most?”

“But look how spread out the place is when you get away from Main Street,” Santos said. “You’d be amazed at how much bad can hide in just an acre or two of untamed forest.”

“And go undetected indefinitely,” Ava said.

“So, we get choppers to fly over and see if they find anything,” Metford offered.

“That’s a possibility,” Ava said.

A tall, skinny man walked into the gym. He clutched a well-worn paperback in both hands in front of his chest as he looked around nervously at them. His dark hair was unbrushed and his clothes wrinkled. A pair of old binoculars hung from a worn strap around his neck and bounced against his chest as he moved toward Ava and the others.

“One from the drug scene?” Metford asked quietly.

“No, I think that would be Sam Everett, better known as Sticks,” Ava said, standing and smiling at the man. “Mr. Everett?” she asked with certainty.

Sam stopped and stared at her, shocked. “Who are you?” The paperback was rolled into a tube shape, and he kept wringing at it.

“Special Agent James, FBI,” she said. “Sam Everett, right?”

“Sticks is fine. I like that better.”

“Okay, Sticks. You can sit over here with me. And just relax. I just need to ask you some simple questions about the day you were in Acadia Forest’s main campground when the bear attacks happened. Do you remember that day?” She wasn’t sure if the man had a mental deficiency, or if like Ace had said, he was just odd.

He wrinkled his face as if to say of course he remembered it. “What about it?”

“Did you see or hear anything unusual that day? Not just when you were at the campground, but anywhere in Glencoe?” Ava thought it a good idea to widen the area in question.

“I don’t think so. Ace ran over and talked to me for a couple of minutes, but then she had to get back to her group. The pastor is nice to her. I wish her family was nicer to her.”

Ava thought she already knew how Ace was treated at home and around town well enough to suggest that was why she acted the way she did. “What about any strangers? See any strangers around that day?”

“No. Miss Adams was out there. I didn’t speak to her, but I saw her gathering things to test. She’s an environmentalist. Smart lady. Nice, too. She’s nice to Ace, too. They talked for a little bit before Ace left.”

“Did you go from home to the campground that day?”

“No, I was at my cousin’s house up the way. Spent the night with him. We’re all the family that’s left around here and we try to stay close. I walked down the mountain from his place.”

“Down the mountain?”

“Yeah. His property is across the road from Acadia Forest, but it starts way up the mountain, you know? He has fifty acres up there.”

Alarm bells went off in Ava’s head. “Fifty acres? What does he do with all that land?”

“He used to raise cows, but he got too old and his legs don’t work right anymore so he uses it for hay and sells the hay to local farmers for their livestock.”

“How old is your cousin?”

“Sixty-two. Why does that matter?”

“Just curious, I suppose. What’s wrong with his legs? You said they didn’t work right anymore.”

“Cinderblock wall fell on him about ten years ago and he almost died. The doctors saved him, but his legs have never been the same. Full of pins and screws and hurts him to walk. He let me keep my bird nests in his barn when I got so many they wouldn’t fit in my apartment anymore. I have a house now, though, and they’re in it now. Well, out back. Did you know that some birds will steal the nests of other birds? Lazy, eh? Wait for someone else to do all the work, and then just move in and take it.” He gave a short bark of laughter.

Maybe Miller thought the FBI was that kind of bird. Was he a bird-watcher, too? She might ask him when they met again. “No, I didn’t know that,” she admitted. “Was there anybody else on the mountain when you were walking down?”

“No, but when I got to one spot, I smelled something that reminded me of Wally’s cow barn and ammonia. Wally’s my cousin up the mountain.”

“What part of the mountain was that, Sticks?”

“There’s no trail over there, and nobody usually goes there. But when I find an interesting bird, I follow wherever it goes. I stopped and went back to the trail that day because the smell made me feel strange. Like I was going to be sick and like I wanted to run for no reason. Weirdest thing. I was following a Falco peregrinus; a Peregrine Falcon. Did you know they were on the endangered species list for a while due to pesticide use? But they are recovered now. Still rare to see. I really wanted to see it get over two-hundred miles per hour when it went into a hunting stoop, but I didn’t get to see it. Maybe if I had ignored that smell and went on to the meadow, I would have.” He shrugged. “Maybe another time, right?”

“There’s a meadow in the mountain?”

“A few of ‘em. That one is small compared to the others, but they’re on the other side of the mountain. I never go to that side because people say there are bears over there where there’s no town for miles and miles.”

“Could you show me where that meadow is if I got a map?”

He shrugged again. “I could take you there, I guess. You just follow the wide hiking trail until you reach the loop around. In the center of the loop, walk off to your left and keep going in a straight line. You’ll find it eventually, but you can’t go any way except straight, or you’ll get lost out there.”

When she couldn’t find a map, she hurriedly scribbled his directions on paper.

“You want me to show you where it’s at? I could take you day after tomorrow when I get back from the oncologist. It takes me two hours to get there, and two for the appointment, then two to get back. I’ll have to eat something, but then I could take you. I won’t go to work that day.”

It wouldn’t do to wait so long, or to have him playing guide if he didn’t really know where the place was or how to find it. Better to ask an authority on the subject. Ranger Chip Alcott came to mind. “I appreciate the offer. Tell you what, if we can’t find it by following your directions, I might just take you up on the offer. Could I get your number just in case?”

Ava and the team compared notes on all the interviewees, including the ones from Miller and Senn on their subjects. Ava related the information from Sam Everett, and her suspicion that he might have gotten close to a cook-site, hence the foul odor he smelled and likened to a cow barn and ammonia. Ava knew what he meant, and she knew what it was indicative of. Cooking meth smelled strongly of ammonia, and sometimes, when it was being smoked, it had a sweet smell, or almost sweet. Cow barns often had that same high, sickly, sweet smell.

“What about the guy you interviewed earlier, Metford?” Ava asked.

“Jake Junkie Thompson,” he said. “That man is old hat on the drug scene. From his track record, it doesn’t matter what happens to him, he always goes back to the drugs. Priors for distribution, possession with intent, driving under the influence, domestic assault three counts in two years, assaulting an officer while under the influence. No license, no permanent address unless you count the county jail, no phone number, and almost any day or night, you can find him in one of the alleys on the westernmost edge of town. His only friend is a man called Spooky. Wouldn’t give me a real name. Said he didn’t know it, and that the guy wasn’t around much.”

“Not much of a friend,” Santos said.

“Jake doesn’t strike me as the friending type,” Metford said.

“We need to find out who Spooky really is,” Ava said. “And I’m going to ask Ranger Alcott about this meadow first thing in the morning.”

Alcott met Ava at the gym. “Better watch out for the activists after this morning in court,” he said, walking toward Ava.

“Why? What happened?”

“McDavid got his men out of jail, and the UP members are still there. Judge said if he had his way, they’d spend a month in county lockup for being the aggressors. That Lori Haynes came out spitting fire and damnation to every one of the loggers and half the officials of Glencoe. She’s threatening to get McDavid’s operation shut down and put the men out of jobs.”

“What happened to Glencoe being a quaint town; a nice place to live like it says on the sign coming into town?” Dane asked.

“It still is,” Alcott said. “Glencoe didn’t change. These activists just stirred up a hornet’s nest, and after they got stung, instead of letting the bees settle, they’re going to go kicking it again. Just goes to show trouble can find anyone anywhere.” He sat in front of Ava. “What did you need to ask me?”

Ava pulled out the scribbled directions and slid them to him. “Do you know if this is legit? Is there a meadow out that way?”

He chuckled at the writing. “Hard to say. Might know if I could make out the writing.”

She pulled it back and read it to him. “Ring any bells?”

“Who gave you those directions?”

“Sam Everett.”

“Ah, Sticks. He’s one of the most intelligent men I know when it comes to the forest and especially birds, but don’t ever follow his directions. I think he walks around going on instinct most of the time.”

“So, there’s no meadow in that direction in Acadia Forest?”

“Oh, there are meadows. Three good-sized ones and a smaller one, but if you walk in a straight line off the loop, you’re going to end up in West Virginia and you won’t see a meadow unless you walk onto someone’s farm over there.”

“What about in the general area?”

“Come with me. I’ll take you to the wall map and show you where there are meadows. I don’t think Sticks got close to one unless he had been walking for hours.”

“He had spent the night at his cousin Wally’s and walked down the mountain from there to the main campground where he saw Rachel Adams and spoke to Ace Martinez on her way with the youth group that morning.”

Alcott shook his head. “If he walked from Wally’s, he had to have started the evening before and walked all night if he got to the meadow and then to the campground in time to see the youth group. I think maybe he’s confused. It happens sometimes since his diagnosis. I don’t know if it’s the cancer or the treatments. You never can say which one does the worst damage, can you?”

There had to be something more sinister going on in Glencoe. More than just a couple of bears someone shot up with meth for unknown reasons. Someone had to have a damn good reason to dose two normally docile black bears with aggression-inducing meth and then turn them loose in the woods.

At every turn, she seemed to hit a dead end. The people who might know something weren’t talking, and the person who did talk was likely confused and didn’t know what he was saying.

“Show me the map. I need a copy of a topographical with the trails marked as well.”

Alcott stood. “Finally, something I can do with confidence.”

They started for the door and Ava’s phone rang. “James speaking,” she said.

“Agent, Sheriff Carter here. I think you should come to the campground. You and your team any good at finding missing people?”

“Who’s missing, Sheriff?”

“One of the activists. Young girl named Emily Larson. Ms. Haynes says Emily wasn’t at their spot in the campground this morning when they did their roll call.”

“We’ll be there shortly.” Ava gathered the team, told Alcott she would come by his office in a while, and she left for the campground.

“How old is this girl?” Dane asked.

“He didn’t say. There were a lot of voices talking over each other. The activists, I’m sure.”

“They’re probably panicked if she’s young,” Dane said.

“Probably scared they’ll find her the same way the Harrises were found,” Santos said.

“They’d never admit that,” Metford added. “And if it happened, they’d find someone else to blame.”

“No, they’d hang it on the lumber company,” Ava said. “They’ve already threatened McDavid and the crew with getting the operation shut down and leaving the men jobless. McDavid got his men out of jail this morning, but the judge refused to release the UP members because they were the aggressors.”

“Nah, he’s pissed because they ignored all the warnings and got the townspeople upset. As if they weren’t upset enough,” Santos said.

“Again, you speak as if you have experience with this kind of town,” Dane said. “Do you?”

“She’s just a small-town girl,” Metford said in a sing-songy voice.

“That song’s ancient, Metford. Shut up, ‘kay?” Santos said.

It wasn’t hard to spot the activists at the campground. They had taken over a large portion of it. Lori Haynes stood on a picnic table with her bullhorn. It was like an extension of her arm. Did she ever go anywhere without it?

As Ava was getting out of the vehicle, the UP group raised their hands in the air and shouted. There were no words. It sounded like a united war cry.

Carter reached into his cruiser and keyed the mic for the loudspeaker. “Settle down. Cease and desist immediately or you will be arrested,” he said, trying to drown out Lori’s voice over the bullhorn and the cacophony of the shouting voices.

The group ignored Carter, as did Lori. She spoke about the loggers being responsible for Emily’s disappearance, and how the law wouldn’t do anything about it because the sheriff and the judge were in cahoots with McDavid Lumber.

“There’s no stopping them with just us and Carter,” Santos said as they moved to be in a better position to block some of the group.

“We need to try,” Dane said. “This could get dangerous if they mob the loggers.”

When the group moved, it was like an ocean wave crashing over and around Ava. It was a sudden, unrelenting crush of people. Not quite a stampede in which people got trampled, but moving with determination and unstoppable.

Ava jumped back into the SUV and drove to the parking area. She pulled in tight at the front of the bus and motioned for Carter to do the same at the back end. With the bus blocked in, Carter and Lori confronted each other.

After ten minutes of heated discussion, Lori apologized and promised that the group would keep calm if Carter agreed to prioritize the search for Emily.

“I’ll put my best people on it, but you have to stay out of the way. One more outburst, and you’re all going to be removed from Glencoe even if I have to call in the National Guard.”

Ava and the team hung around at the edge of Acadia for the next hour to make sure Lori kept her promise. Carter thanked them after griping for the whole hour about the trouble UP was causing.

“Sheriff, I think I might have a lead on a meth cook-site,” Ava told him. “I have to go see Ranger Alcott and get a map. If the missing girl is out there, she could be in danger. Cookers usually have booby traps set in a perimeter to prevent anyone getting too close without them knowing.”

“And there could be other animals running around hyped on that mess. God, she could end up mauled just like the Harrises,” he said. “Why the hell couldn’t they just leave well enough alone and go back home?” He motioned, indicating the activists still cloistered at the campground.

“Who are you putting on Emily’s case?”

“Miller and Senn most likely. They’re the detectives. Only ones I’ve got, but Emily is a priority. We need to get her back safe and then we can concentrate on finding out who drugged the bears.”

It was a double-edged sword. If the one case wasn’t prioritized, many lives might be in danger. If the other case wasn’t solved, there was definitely a young woman in danger.

While Ava and the team pored over the map of Acadia Forest, the police radio crackled to life. The call was for a disturbance at Misty Mountain Motel at the western edge of town. Dispatch advised more than one officer to respond because it was ‘the group and the loggers’ again.

“Sounds like we might need to visit the Misty Mountain Motel,” Metford said.

“Lori didn’t keep her promise after all,” Santos lamented.

“Let’s go,” Ava said.

They arrived at the little motel fifteen minutes later. Jenkins, Carter, and Senn pulled in just ahead of Ava with their lights and sirens cutting through the evening air. All the UP members stood in a semi-circle around the loggers who had gathered in the gravel parking lot outside their rooms. Tempers flared, accusations and threats flew from both sides, and it seemed that it wouldn’t take much to set either side off enough to start with the physical altercations again.

Ava and the team flew into action, placing themselves between the warring groups.

Ava turned to the closest logger. “Get your men to go back into their rooms. Don’t do this again.”

“We’re not doing anything. They’re trying to start another fight, but we ain’t losing our rooms here. And accusing us of having something to do with the girl needs to stop.”

“Just get your men back inside so we can deal with them.”

The man glared over at the yelling group and then back to Ava. His head bobbed once, and she took it as a curt nod of agreement.

A man she recognized as Delmar, the lumberyard boss, came to her. “My boys didn’t start this, just so you know. They’re straight, and Knuckles is still in his room. He didn’t even come out this time.”

“That’s great. Just see that they go inside now.”

He grunted and turned away. “Come on, boys. Let’s get back inside and let the FBI handle this one.” His crew moved grudgingly the few steps to the motel doors. Most of them filed into one room, and the curtains drew back to reveal them watching the happenings.

Lori Haynes skirted around the group being held back and went straight for the door the men had entered. Ava intercepted her, and Lori jerked her arm free.

“You can’t put your hands on me,” she said.

“I can, and I will. This is getting out of hand, and you’re going to cause more people to get hurt. Don’t touch that door or you’ll be facedown on the sidewalk getting handcuffed. When I arrest you, you won’t get out anytime soon.”

“You’re really going to threaten to arrest me and throw away the key when they’re the ones who have done wrong? Ask them where Emily is.”

“Why would they know?”

“They did something to her. I know it, and so does the rest of my group.”

“Ms. Haynes, why would they have done anything to Emily?”

“Retaliation for the debacle at the diner, and because we all blame them for the deaths of those two hikers and the bears. It was their fault. Their irresponsible clearcutting of the forest. They don’t see it that way. They see us as the troublemakers.”

At that moment, so did Ava, and she was sure most of Glencoe felt the same way. “I’m sure you’re overreacting, Ms. Haynes. They wouldn’t do anything so rash.”

“How about murder? You think they wouldn’t do that to get back at us because I think they would. I know their type. We’ve run into serious trouble in towns like this before, and it was people just like them.” She jabbed her finger toward the window and the loggers who stared out at them. “What did you do to her, you murderers?”

Ava moved to block Lori’s view of the window. “That’s enough. Get your group and go back to the campground before this escalates and more of you end up in jail.”

“Pathetic,” Lori spat. “This isn’t over. We know they did something to her, and sooner or later, you’ll have to listen to reason.” She keyed the bullhorn and it bleated obediently. It was the rallying cry for the group, who also fell in behind her and walked toward the bus.

“I’m going to the station to file a missing person report for Emily,” Lori said as she stepped onto the bus.

“I’ve already…” Sheriff Carter tossed up a hand and turned away without finishing as Lori shut the door and ignored him. He watched the bus lumber away. “I already filed the report. That’s what I was doing when the call came in to get over here.”

“If she’s heading to the station, at least we know where she’ll be for a while,” Ava said.

“I’m not even sure the girl is missing.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe she got tired of all the drama between UP and the McDavid crew and she just left. Figured it wasn’t worth all the trouble. Or maybe she got tired of the same old diatribe from Lori Haynes, the Great and Powerful.” He scoffed and opened the cruiser door. “I need to get all the pertinent information on the girl anyway. Just in case she really is missing.”

Ava was glad he felt that way instead of continuing with the assumption that the girl left of her own choice. Better safe than sorry.

Ava and the team went back to the gym to plot out routes through Acadia that led to the meadows. Ranger Alcott came in and asked about the scene at the motel.

“I heard the call, but I was up toward Wally’s. No way to get down here in time to join you,” he said.

“Why were you up there?” Metford asked.

“Just checking things out. Never know what’s going on if you don’t check things out.”

“Because of Sam Everett’s story,” Ava said.

“And that. Yeah. Wally’s place checks out clean, though. How many lumberjacks and activists got a free room at the Crossbar Motel?”

“None,” Ava said. “McDavid’s crew held their tempers admirably, considering all the accusations being thrown at them.” She filled him in about the Emily Larson situation. “I think the cops aren’t going to take the report too seriously. They seem to think she left because of the drama between the two groups.”

“Well, that would be stupid on the cops’ part. I’ll take it seriously, and I’ll talk to the sheriff about it. In light of the bear attacks, they should take it very seriously. Emily might end up being a victim of another animal attack.”

“Or fall victim to whoever might be hiding out there and cooking meth.”

“If someone is out there cooking. I told you, Sam gets confused. He doesn’t lie on purpose, but he gets out of sorts in his head and his memory sometimes.” He moved to the map and stared at it while he talked. “I’ll scour around the area near where the activists camp. I’ll go out first thing in the morning and see if I can find any trace of Emily or where she might have gone. If she’s out in the forest, she needs to be found. Sleeping out there exposed to the elements is no place for a girl.”

“Or a man,” Ava said.

“Right. Or a man. It’s dangerous for a number of reasons, and the wildlife is the main one.”

Ava pondered the girl’s situation out there alone in the gathering darkness. No shelter, no supplies, and no way of contacting anyone because there was no cell service that far out.

The next morning, before the sun was completely up, Ava and the team went to their center of operations. The gym was located in a building separate from the school, for which they were thankful. It doubled as a place for community gatherings, and at first, when Ava saw the group of people standing outside, she thought it must be locals. As she pulled into the lot and parked, her heart sank. It was a small group of the activists, and Lori Haynes, She of the Bullhorn, was at the front of the pack without the annoying implement.

Ava and the team approached the four activists warily.

“Ms. Haynes,” Ava said, acknowledging the woman she knew to be the leader. “Is everything all right?” Her suspicion rose as she noted the serious expressions and the lack of drama. The high school grounds was the last place she wanted an incident.

“Agent James, I’m not here for any trouble, and we’re not going to give you any grief,” Lori started.

“We need to speak with you about Emily Larson,” the other woman said, stepping forward with her hand extended. “I’m Selma Collins, and these two men are Chucky Silvers and Tim Radford.”

Ava reluctantly shook the woman’s hand as she eyed the men.

“We’re the leaders of United Paws,” Lori explained. “We were up all night discussing this, and since you’re the only authority figure who spoke to me with anything resembling respect, we thought to bypass local law and come straight to you with our thoughts.”

“We can talk inside,” Ava said, not trusting that Lori wouldn’t cause a scene. At least in the gym, it would be contained and away from the students in the other buildings.

Inside, Ava introduced the team quickly, and asked the UP members to have a seat with them at the library tables.

“What did you want to discuss, Ms. Haynes?” Ava asked, readying her pen for notes.

“It’s Emily. We want to make this formal, and we want you to take it seriously. We think those loggers did something terrible to her. She still hasn’t shown up, and she hasn’t contacted anyone.”

“This is a serious concern for us,” Selma said. “We’re not slinging accusations or trying to get attention on the forest depletion. This is us, as parents ourselves, and friends of Emily being truly concerned that she may have been targeted by the McDavid crew.”

“You saw how calm and non-hostile they were at the motel yesterday,” Chucky said. “They are usually hotheaded and quick with their tempers, but not yesterday.”

“Which makes us wonder why,” Tim said. “Why were they so calm? Why were some of them standing there with crossed arms and little smirks on their faces as if they knew something we didn’t?”

“Maybe they didn’t want to get kicked out of the motel,” Santos said. “That was your ultimate goal when you went there, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Lori denied. “We went there to find out if they did something to Emily.”

“I don’t understand why you would think they did, Ms. Haynes,” Metford said. “A fist fight is one thing, but kidnapping? That’s a whole different level of lawbreaking, don’t you think?”

“I do think that, yes. And they are basically drifters. They aren’t from Glencoe, have no ties to it, and I’m sure they don’t have squeaky clean records. Why else would they be doing what they do? Working, tucked away in no-man’s land day in and day out, clearcutting forests without a single pang of regret or even forethought as to implications of their actions?”

“If I ran a background check on your group, would all your records come back squeaky clean?” Dane asked.

“Most, yes. A few have had run-ins with law enforcement, but not for anything violent or serious.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Haynes, but why would the loggers make the jump from a fight in the street—which your group instigated, by the way—to outright kidnapping?” Metford asked, trying to be the voice of reason. “It’s just as likely that Emily left of her own free will to distance herself from the escalating drama between the two groups, isn’t it?”

“Not without telling someone, and she did not,” Chucky said. “Emily is a responsible young lady. Smart, too. She wouldn’t have run off without taking her things, either. Only her daypack is missing.”

“And that’s what she had on that day,” Tim said. “All her personal effects are still at the campsite in a lockbox with everyone else’s.”

“What personal effects?” Ava asked, suddenly more interested.

“Her ID, passport, license, cash, cards, and her cellphone,” Lori said. “She didn’t take any of it, and wouldn’t she have taken those things if she was just distancing herself from the ‘drama,’ as you called it?”

Ava and the team exchanged worried looks. It was never good when a person left without taking their valuables.

“You think the loggers took her?” Ava asked.

“Yes,” Lori exclaimed. “They probably saw her alone and thought it was a way to get back at us for the whole diner thing.”

“They tried to hold her against her will, and things might have gotten out of control,” Selma said, dropping her eyes to her hands on the table.

“If they grabbed her, Emily would have fought for her life,” Tim said. “That’s just Emily. She’s a fighter; a survivalist.”

“Being riled over the diner incident, maybe one of them took it too far and hurt her badly,” Chucky said.

“Just say it already,” Lori snipped. “The big brutes probably slapped her around and got her fighting and ended up killing her. She’s not a big girl. Slight and short, but a real powerhouse. She wouldn’t have stopped fighting even if they were hurting her, and we all see how they get when someone stands up to them.”

“Oh, that took a left turn,” Santos said. “Kidnapping and murder are two different things. Do you think they nabbed her to scare all of you into leaving, or do you think they killed her?”

“We think they killed her. Otherwise, she would have found a way to get hold of someone by now. They’re all covering for each other. That’s why they were so calm at the motel,” Lori said with conviction.

“Okay, Ms. Haynes, we will follow every lead on this. These are very serious and very unfounded accusations, though. We can’t be sure about anything at this point, and I don’t want you or anyone from your group to inflame the situation by confronting McDavid’s men again. That could lead to more trouble than any of us want. Do you understand me, Ms. Haynes?” Ava held the woman’s gaze as she spoke.

“We understand, but—”

“No, there can be no but. Either you understand or you don’t.”

Lori and the other three exchanged looks and small nods. “We understand, Agent James,” she finally concurred. “Please, just find Emily.”

Unable to raise Sheriff Carter on the phone, Ava called Detective Senn and told him about the formal accusations laid against the McDavid crew by the activists.

“I’ll add that to the endless list of speculations to check out today,” he said.

“You are looking for the Larson girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I don’t think we’re going to find her hacked to pieces and stuffed in a box at the logging site.”

“I hope not, but we don’t know anything for sure at this point,” Ava said.

“We’re looking for her, and we’ll continue to look for her. I need the formal report. Want me to come get it in a few?”

“I’ll drop it by the office,” Ava said. “We’re on our way to see Alcott soon.”

Alcott didn’t answer his phone, either. Ava left a voicemail with the new information.

“Do you have any of the McDavid crew’s phone numbers?” Santos asked Ava.

“I have Delmar’s number. He’s the yard boss,” she answered, pulling the name up in her phone.

“We’re all going to talk to them,” Metford said. It wasn’t a question.

“Are we seriously going to accuse them of murdering that girl?” Dane asked, doubtful. “That could get nasty quick.”

“Their jobsite is only two miles south of here. That’s where they were when the Harrises were killed, and probably where they were when Emily initially went missing. Maybe they saw something, heard something, or know something they’re not telling. I checked the distance to the jobsite with Del. That’s a lot of rough ground between here and there. Let’s approach this just like the interviews with the youth group and the people at the campground. We’re mining for information, so let’s see if we can hit gold without any more bloodshed.”

The team agreed. The most valuable asset was good information.

Ava called the number, no one answered, and she left a message. “Didn’t answer. We’ll head to the jobsite. I’ll drop Lori’s official statement off with Senn on the way.”

With the map of Acadia rolled into a tube, Ava went to the car with the team. The drive was five minutes to Senn’s office. She went in alone to give him the paperwork, and they drove up Main Street.

“Wait,” Santos said, leaning forward and extending her arm between Ava and Metford in the front seats. “There. Isn’t that some of the lumber crew?”

Ava stopped at the red light and looked where Santos pointed. Immediately, she recognized Knuckles O’Hara as he leaned against the clock tower and held court like a king with some younger locals. On the other side of him were more of his crew.

“That’s them,” Ava confirmed. She pulled over and parked streetside in front of Briarwood Grocery. “Spread out so we can contain them if it hits the fan,” she said, opening her door.

The team fanned out as they walked across the street. The loggers seemed laid back, calm, and in good spirits. Was it all an act? Had they done something unspeakable and were hiding it so effectively? One person could do that, in Ava’s experience, but when there were more than one guilty party involved in the same crime, someone always cracked. When that happened, it was a domino effect. The others would cave, one at a time, until the mastermind was revealed as the last holdout.

If there was a mastermind of this group, Ava’s money was on Knuckles.

Shaking the thought from her mind, she assessed the situation. The youngsters gathered with the loggers looked to be older teens. Nothing criminal was going on unless some of the kids were skipping school. They looked to be old enough to have graduated already, but not old enough to get into bars.

Casey O’Hara was the first to spot Ava and the team heading across the street. He gave them a two-finger wave. It was a curt gesture of acknowledgement; nothing more. He turned his head toward the others, and before Ava reached the town square, all the loggers were staring at them and ignoring the chatter from the few teens around them.

“Help you?” Knuckles asked.

He would definitely be the unspoken leader in a crisis. “Just wanted to talk for a minute, if you have time.”

Alcott appeared out of nowhere and joined Ava. She spared him a quick look and then turned her attention back to the group of locals and loggers.

“We got a while,” Casey said. “We’re on extended lunch break until the equipment is repaired. We’re being entertained with a story. Might find it interesting.”

Two of the teens continued with their dramatic telling of a story to three of the loggers. The words ‘wild man’ kept being repeated.

“We’re not really interested in stories about wild men,” Ava said.

“I bet that’s what happened to that girl who is missing,” a pimple-faced boy with long black hair said. “That’s what the wild man does.” He was emphatic, eyes wide, hands open as if trying to hand Ava something.

She chuckled but didn’t outright scoff.

“She don’t believe you, Scoot,” another boy said. “Cops never believe kids, didn’t you know that? Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” Casey said.

Delmar held out his hand to the youngsters. “Yeah, hold on. I think they need to hear this. Come on back and tell them just like you tell everybody else.”

“Why don’t you, Del? You all know the story as good as we do.” The boy shot a look in Ava’s direction. “Hell, they might believe it if it comes from an adult.”

“Some of them tree huggers believed you, didn’t they?” Casey asked.

“Yeah, but they’re not cops. See ya.” Both boys cut across the square and disappeared behind a stand of trees where some girls of similar age sat on a public bench.

“Okay, now my curiosity is piqued,” Ava said. “What’s the story?”

“The wild man on the mountain,” a girl of no more than seventeen said, stepping forward. “He’s real. My parents told me and my brothers the story from the time we were big enough to listen.”

“Who is the wild man?” Santos asked with a little irritation clinging to the words.

“He’s just a legend,” Alcott said.

“No, he’s not,” a boy said vehemently as he moved to stand by the girl. “He’s as real as you and me.” He turned to Ava and Santos. “He kidnaps people who get too close to his place in the mountain. Grabs them and kills them.”

“And throws the body out like trash for the rangers or the cops to find,” the girl added. She stepped forward and lowered her voice. “Some people think that might have been what really happened to those two hikers.”

The boy chimed in, “Even some of the people in that group, UP, or whatever it is. Even they think that makes more sense than two bears on drugs.”

The teens who remained all laughed and joked about bears on drugs.

Casey stood straight. “He is supposedly real. We all know the stories of people he’s left dead in Acadia. Maybe a legit wild mountain man, or just a plain murdering bastard, but either way, it does make sense. That’s probably what happened to that missing girl.”

“I thought you were all from out of town,” Ava said, crossing her arms and tilting her head at the big man.

“We are. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If you’re from out of town, how do you know so much about the local legend?” Santos asked. She looked to Ava to see if she understood where the question had been headed, and Ava nodded.

“Because we’re from out of town, not from outer space. We’re just a couple towns away from here, and anyone over the age of twenty has heard this story more times than they can count.” He motioned to Alcott. “Ranger Rick over there knows a thing or two about it, don’t ya, Ranger Rick?”

Ava looked to Alcott expectantly and with mild shock.

“It’s just a legend,” he said.

“Is there any truth to it?” Ava asked.

“Nobody knows for sure. There have been a few victims found that could have been murder victims, but not for a long time now.” His tone was defensive and his words rushed.

“Urban legend, then,” Dane said.

Casey and the loggers laughed. “Not very urban around here, is it?” he asked pointedly.

Ava and the team questioned them casually to see if they had any useful information from the day of the slayings. They didn’t, and they swore to their innocence in the case of Emily Larson.

Delmar stepped up. “Anytime you want, you can check our motels, trucks, equipment, and jobsite. We have nothing to hide.”

Ava thanked them and stepped aside to speak with Alcott.

Alcott had searched around the Acadia Forest Campground Number One, where the activists were staying, and found nothing to indicate what had happened to Emily Larson.

Nate Holden called with more information about the male bear. When the tox screen was run on the second blood samples he sent in, ketamine was found alongside the meth.

Ava let Metford drive them toward Acadia while she made calls to the sheriff and Detective Senn with the new information.

“I think we need to question everyone who has access, legally and illegally, to the ketamine,” Ava told Senn. “I already discussed it with the sheriff, and he agrees.”

“We could question the veterinarians, and one is already cleared unless I’m badly mistaken.”

“Who?”

“Holden. He has access to ketamine.”

“Are there other veterinarians in Glencoe?”

“Two more.”

“Get them in for questioning. What about doctors? How many are in Glencoe?”

“Three.”

“And pharmacists?”

“Two.”

“Get them all in for questioning. We need to know who has been given ketamine, how much, and why.”

“Then we need to get Junkie Thompson back in for more questions, and his sometime friend, Spooky. I read the reports. I know who Spooky is, and he’s definitely in the same league with Junkie.”

“He have a real name?” Ava asked, growing irritated with all the nicknames.

“Ray Benson, late thirties, moves around a lot. Goes from shelters to low-rent apartments to living in the woods, which is probably where he is now since it’s still warm weather. Come fall, he’ll go into low-rent again, and then to shelters where he doesn’t have to pay for the heat in winter.”

“He stays in the woods? Meaning Acadia Forest?”

“Sometimes, yeah, but most likely he’s staying on Miller Hill in the woods there. It’s out behind Wally’s place on private property so there aren’t any hikers and campers to bother him.”

“Definitely get him back in. Was he even questioned in the first round?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t find a report, if he was. Probably nobody thought about him, or they couldn’t find him. And I don’t think we’ll be able to get the doctors and pharmacists in right away. I’ll go to their offices and speak with them. It’ll be more efficient. I’ll pull Miller in to help and send Jenkins out to bring in Junkie and Spook.”

“Could we use their proper names, Detective Senn? Just for a little professionalism?”

“Sure thing, Agent. I’ll send Jenkins out and have him bring in Ray Benson and Jake Thompson.”

“Thank you. Do you want me to let a couple of my agents help you and Miller?”

“Can you spare two of them? There’s only four of you, right?”

“I’ll let Agents Dane and Santos stay behind and help with the questioning. That way, if Jenkins is successful, my agents will be on hand to question them as well.”

Santos and Dane were glad to not be going on the hike through unmarked parts of Acadia Forest.

“Give me good old boots on the pavement any day of the week over trekking through the jungle,” Santos said.

“It’s not the jungle, but I’m not as comfortable in it as some,” Dane agreed. “I’d much rather be out in the town.”

“Call me if there’s any development you think I should know about before we get back,” Ava told them as Metford circled around and headed back to Main Street.

“I thought there was no cell service where we’re going,” Metford reminded her.

“Try the call,” Ava said. “If it doesn’t go through, send a text. If I don’t answer by morning, come searching for us,” she said, half-jokingly.

“That’s not funny,” Santos said.

“Couldn’t live without that dry humor,” Dane said, opening the door as the SUV rolled to a stop. “Be safe, and don’t get lost.”

Metford drove off toward Acadia Forest again. “You think maybe we should take Alcott or one of the other rangers with us? We’re not exactly wilderness survival experts.”

“It’s a marked trail, Metford. We have guns; they go boom; we’ll be fine. Don’t be such a chicken.”

“You know, your sense of humor is seriously skewed lately. What if we get lost out there?”

She raised the rolled-up maps. “That’s why we have these. So we don’t get lost.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. I just wish I could feel so confident about this.”

Several minutes into the hike, Ava and Metford arrived at the loop-around in the trail. The forest hadn’t been exceptionally thick, and the trail had been easy to navigate thus far. Ava moved to the edge of the marked trail and Metford stood beside her. They looked out into the unmarked territory, squinting into the undergrowth for signs of a trail.

“Any animal trail, deer trail, or even a rabbit trail at this point would be helpful,” Metford said. “I thought there was a marked trail here. Isn’t that what Ranger Rick said?”

“Don’t call him that, Metford. Casey O’Hara is a jerk, and calling Alcott that just proves it. And yes, there’s supposed to be a trail, but I’m not seeing it.” She opened the map and put her finger on the loop-around. “We’re here. See the trail there?” She moved her finger to what should have been right in front of them, but it wasn’t.

“Maybe it’s just overgrown?”

“Maybe, but that’s kind of the rangers’ responsibility. To keep it cleared, I mean.”

“I only counted three, and this is a big place. Maybe it just got ahead of them.”

Ava looked again, scouring the underbrush and finding no trail. “Sam Everett said we should walk straight and not veer off course for any reason.”

“And I thought he was often confused and very wrong about things.”

“Maybe he didn’t get lost because he picked up the trail farther out past where we can see from here. Maybe the trail is out there, just out of sight. We’ll just walk straight for a little while. If we don’t find the trail, we’ll just come back the same way.”

He looked skeptical but agreed.

A few yards out, they ran into a primitive trail. “See? I was right,” Ava exclaimed.

“But it’s not straight.”

“Doesn’t have to be as long as it’s a trail.”

But the trail ran out after zigzagging them around and into a very quiet and very thick part of the forest. Birdsong sounded far away, and Ava stopped.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left that trail,” Metford groaned.

“It was just a few hundred feet over that way. Come on.” Ava loped ahead without a worry about being lost.

After fifteen minutes of searching, Metford stopped. “Where’s the trail? We didn’t come this way. I don’t remember that huge tree there.” He pointed at a tall oak.

“Metford, it’s a forest, there are all kinds of trees.” But she looked around and knew they had made a wrong turn somewhere. He was right. Nothing was familiar. “Let’s keep the same trajectory. We’ll come out somewhere. We have to.”

“Yeah, maybe West Virginia sometime next week. We’re lost.”

The canopy grew denser above them. The sunlight filtered through, dappling the ground with a lacework of moving shadows. They walked for more than an hour, and Ava couldn’t be sure if they were headed toward the trail or deeper into the mountain anymore.

“We should have reached the main trail by now,” Metford said. He glanced at his phone. “Still no signal. We’re so screwed, Ava. I told you we should have brought Alcott or somebody with us.”

Ava looked around, trying to find any familiar landmarks and found none. She looked at the map, tracing their route as best she could with one finger. “I don’t know where we took a wrong turn, and I can’t find where we are now on this stupid map.” She rolled it up again and tucked it under her arm. “Who uses paper maps anymore, anyway?”

“That’s a first from you,” Metford said. “I thought you were all about old school this and old school that. You still use a paper filing system.”

“Yeah, well, GPS would be easier than reading a map of the forest. There’s a maze of trails that aren’t marked, aren’t on the map, and no way to know which is which. Glencoe is to the east of the mountain, so we should walk due east. That should get us back where we need to be.”

Metford looked at his compass. “We’ve been walking mostly to the north forever now.”

“Doesn’t matter. East.” She set off in a straight east direction without waiting for his input. Being wrong was not an option.

As they trudged through the undergrowth, every step seemed to echo her uncertainty. The trees closed in around them, the branches forming a claustrophobic tunnel. Ava’s instincts told her they were not alone, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on finding a way back.

The feeling of being tracked grew worse as the normal forest noises stopped and the air grew eerily silent around them. The only noises came from them, and every time she took a step, she could have sworn she heard a stealthy one matching it far out to her left. Something or someone was hiding the noise of their footfalls in the noise of hers. The fine hairs on her neck stood to attention, and she stopped to look around, hand on gun.

Metford didn’t say a word as he followed her lead and began searching the forest to their left with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. After a few moments, he turned back in the other direction and motioned for her to do the same.

He whispered, “Is that a trail?”

There was a small section of primitive trail, or perhaps a game trail, peeking out from under the low branches of a laurel thicket. They made their way to the trail, pushing through the edge of the laurels, and Ava had to stifle a relieved laugh. She almost hugged Metford, but stopped just short of the embrace.

Clearing her throat, she dropped her arms and whacked his shoulder with her hand. “Good job, Metford.”

He barely acknowledged the compliment and turned. “East?”

“Yep. East,” she said, falling in behind him on the narrow trail.

They followed the path, their pace quickening as their hope grew to palpable proportions when they heard laughter in the distance.

“People,” Ava said.

“The trail can’t be far,” Metford said, rushing ahead toward the sound of the voices.

Within minutes, the trees began to thin, and the sound of the voices grew louder. Another two minutes and they stumbled from the thick undergrowth back onto the main trail.

They stared at each other, and Ava wondered if he was going to bring up the near-hug. Had he read anything into that gesture? She hoped not because there was nothing in it to be read. She had simply been ecstatic that he had found a trail. Deep in her soul, she had been sure they were so lost that they might spend days trying to get out of Acadia.

“Let’s not get lost again,” he said with a wry smile. “Next time, let’s bring someone along who knows their way around this place. What do you say?”

“I say…absolutely.”

They left Acadia Forest with an unspoken promise not to mention the incident to anyone and headed back toward Glencoe.

Ava tossed Metford the keys as she checked her phone. “Santos tried calling three times.”

“She send a text?” He started the car.

“Opening it now.” Ava read the message. “They questioned most everybody on the list, and Jenkins just brought in Ray Benson. He’s at the gym. Let’s go. I want to interview him.”

“He’s the one who lives just wherever and part of the time in the woods, right?”

“That’s him.”

Metford pushed the car above the speed limit and got them to the gym in record time.

“We’re not saying anything, right?” he asked as they prepared to get out of the car.

“I’m not.”

“Me either.”

And that was as close as they ever came to voicing aloud that they had gotten lost in the forest.

Ray Benson sat at one end of the long cafeteria table gnawing on his fingernails and bouncing his leg. His mismatched tennis shoes, stained t-shirt that might have been white at one time, the threadbare red and black flannel, and faded, dirty jeans were tragic. He looked desolate, stricken, and like a man who lost hope for any better life a long time ago. His hair hung lank and oily against his pale forehead and stuck to his neck. His cheekbones were pronounced like those of a skeleton with only the thinnest layer of skin still covering them. Sunken eyes ringed with dark circles finished out his ghoulish appearance. Ava thought it was no wonder people nicknamed him Spooky.

“Mr. Benson?” she asked, nearing him.

The man jolted and stared at her for a second before bobbing his head. “Yeah. You the FBI lady?”

“I am Special Agent James, yes.” She started to offer a handshake, saw that his hands were filthy, and thought better of it.

“Ray, may I call you Ray?” she asked.

“Whatever. Don’t matter.” His eyes shifted and didn’t meet hers. His right leg bounced ceaselessly, and his index finger kept going back to his mouth. His teeth clacked as they slid off the nail over and over, and still he tried to bite it.

“I have an uncle named Ray.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked to the other side of the room where Jake Thompson sat with Detective Miller, and then he looked toward the exit. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Their eyes met for the briefest glimmer of a second, and then he was studying his nails. Probably looking for a better candidate to bite on.

“Ray, were you questioned about the drugs already?”

“I ain’t got any on me. Jenkins the Jerk done patted me down and turned out my pockets. Took my knife, my candy, and my change. Probably won’t get that back.”

“I’ll see that you do. Do you know about the hikers killed by the bears recently in Acadia Forest?”

His leg stopped and his ring finger didn’t make it to his mouth. He nodded and made eye contact briefly.

“Did you know the couple?”

“No. I don’t know anybody.” His eyes slid back toward Jake.

“You know Jake there. You know Jenkins, Detective Senn, Sheriff Carter.”

“Yeah, okay. I know a few people. What do you want?” He scratched at his head and looked toward the side door.

Ava looked over his rap sheet quickly. “It says here that you got into some trouble with ketamine a while back.”

“I don’t do that crap anymore. It almost killed me.”

“Scary, huh?”

He made a noise similar to a scoff and the leg started bouncing. It bounced faster than before, and he gave up on ripping off a nail and started biting the skin at the sides of his nails.

“Where’d you get that ketamine, Ray?”

He went still again and made full eye contact with her. Swimming in their watery depths, she could see fear.

“Ray, tell me who you got it from. We know whoever it is has sold it to others.”

Still, he said nothing, just went back to shifting, bouncing his leg, and pulling bloody places at the edges of his fingernails.

“Do you know anyone who might dose animals with drugs?”

His head jerked up and he looked at her again before quickly averting his gaze.

“Maybe they do it for fun, or to test the potency? I don’t know for sure why they would do it, do you?”

His laugh was the guiltiest laugh Ava had ever heard. “That’s crazy. Giving wild animals drugs.” He shook his head, looked toward the exit again, and seemed about ready to jump out of his skin.

“Ray, I didn’t say anything about wild animals. How did you know that?”

His mouth dropped open and then worked like a fish out of water. “I didn’t. There’s lots of wild animals. Pfft. Nobody would shoot up their pets.”

“Also didn’t say they were shooting them up. Tell me what you know, Ray.”

Tears swam at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know anything.” His chin quivered. “I don’t know anything,” he repeated, his voice slipping up an octave and cracking.

“Was it the man who gave you the ketamine?”

“No,” he exclaimed, arming a stray tear from his grimy cheek.

“I need his name. Don’t make me threaten you, Ray.”

“He’ll kill me, if I tell you.”

“Not if we get him first, and we will if you give me his name.”

The back-and-forth continued for another twenty minutes before Ray broke and said two words: Jim Buchanan.

“Where does Mr. Buchanan live? Where did you get the ketamine from him?”

“Between here and West Virginia.”

Ava had the name, she didn’t need an exact location. Buchanan could be found in a multitude of different ways, and Ray had shut down. He cried silently as he sat hunched over so far that his chin nearly touched his knees. He was the epitome of hopelessness.

Senn rushed toward Ava from the other side of the gym with an urgent look on his face. She sat straighter and held his intense gaze.

“You done here?” he asked, indicating Benson.

“Yeah, just finished. Why?”

“They found another body up in Acadia.”

Benson sucked in a sharp breath and turned paler.

“You know something about it, Spooky?” Senn asked accusingly.

Benson shook his head vehemently. “No, sir.”

“Better hope not.” He turned to Ava. “You coming?”

The death was one of the lumber crew. Daryl Mercer. He had been left in charge of watching the equipment on-site overnight. Ava and Metford had been on the scene of his death, and she had seen how much the death looked like a wild animal attack.

“It’s been twenty-four hours already,” she said. “A whole day, and the ME can’t tell me for sure whether Mercer’s death was an animal attack.” She tossed down the papers in her hand and started pacing alongside the table.

“The lumber crew sure didn’t think so,” Metford said.

“No, they think it was the activists.”

“Delmar made sense to me,” Metford said. “Lori and her group promised to stay out of the way until we figured out what happened to Emily Larson, but what if they didn’t? They are a little overzealous, in my opinion.”

“I don’t think anyone in Lori’s group would outright murder a man in retaliation for something they’re not even certain about. Even if they were certain, I don’t think they’d kill a person; they can’t even stand for an animal to be injured.”

“I’m just saying, we need to keep an open mind about this. The crew said they thought it was an act of retaliation for the missing girl. They might be right.”

“But they also swore they had nothing to do with the missing girl. Mercer looked like he was attacked by a mountain lion, or maybe a bear.”

Alcott, standing nearby and going over the notes about Mercer’s death, cleared his throat. “Actually, bear attacks are extremely rare, and we only have black bears around here. The two browns are down in the mountains of West Virginia according to their location tags.”

“And two black bears are what attacked and killed the Harrises,” Ava reminded him.

“But they were drugged. They’re not aggressive animals unless they’re protecting cubs or their own lives.”

“Then maybe it was another drugged bear. Why can’t the ME tell us for sure what killed Mercer?” Ava asked. “The only difference I could see between Mercer’s injuries and those of the Harrises was that Mercer had no obvious bite marks. But the slashes looked the same.”

“And you’re not a medical examiner,” Metford said.

Just then, Delmar walked in through the main doors. “None of us can get any answers from anyone. What killed Daryl? Was it a man or an animal?” he demanded, still walking toward them.

“That’s the information we’re waiting on,” Metford said.

“It seemed to be an animal attack, Mr. Wilson,” Ava said.

“That just shows you don’t know much about animal attacks. Animals bite and rip into their opponents, adversaries, or their dinner. That’s just how they’re designed. Daryl didn’t have a single bite mark on him that I saw.”

“And you were the one who found him, right?” Alcott asked.

“Yeah, I found him, and I moved him around trying to figure out if he was just passed out or if he was…if he was dead.” He sniffed loudly and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I still say it was those damn tree-huggers. They think we did something to that girl, and we didn’t. None of us even seen that girl. No girl at all, actually, except here in town.”

“I know you’re the boss up there, but is it possible that one or two of your boys—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Agent,” Delmar said to Metford. “Ain’t none of my boys did a damn thing to that girl. It’s best you come to terms with the fact that them animal-loving nuts out there might have just murdered an innocent man.”

“If they did it, why would they make it seem as if an animal was the culprit, Mr. Wilson?” Ava asked. “That would put another animal in danger of being destroyed by the authorities, and that’s what got them up in arms at the beginning. They wouldn’t even be here if not for those bears being put down.”

“I don’t pretend to understand the logic of people like them, and I don’t pretend to be no cop or doctor. I just know an animal didn’t kill Daryl and we didn’t touch that girl. My boys are under control for now, but if something isn’t done soon, I can’t promise they won’t take matters into their own hands.” He headed for the door.

“Was that a veiled threat, Mr. Wilson?” Ava called.

“Nothing veiled about it and it’s not a threat. It’s a fact. It’s human nature.” He went out the door.

“Should I go get him?” Metford asked.

“Why?” Ava said, turning away from the door.

“I’m pretty sure he just threatened us.”

“No,” Alcott said. “He meant that the lumber crew might retaliate against UP. That’s who they believe killed Daryl.”

The threat of more violence erupting and tearing Glencoe apart again wasn’t something Ava liked to think about, but it was a real possibility. Whether man or beast, she needed to solve all the smaller cases soon. The larger case still loomed over her like a dark cloud, too. Detective Senn was working on locating Jim Buchanan in the hopes that he was the key to learning who dosed the killer bears.

“It’s a very thin line that separates the actions of wild animals and angry men,” she said as she walked toward the stage to be alone.

Emily stumbled over an exposed tree root. When she tried to catch herself, her foot slipped on a mossy rock, and she went down hard. Thankfully, the ground near the creek was soft, but that didn’t stop the tears of pure exhaustion and frustration. She’d been lost for at least thirty-six hours. At least, that was to the best of her guesstimate of the passing of time.

“You might know with more certainty if you would just wear a stupid watch,” she grumbled at herself through the tears.

The ground was soft and comfortable. Not like her new sofa at home comfortable, but still, it beckoned her to curl up and catch some sleep while the sun was up. She couldn’t sleep at night. Not with all the animals moving around. Last night, she was sure a mountain lion had been following her at a distance. One time, as she was making her way through a thicket on the other side of the creek, she had looked up to an outcropping of rock. It was a casual glance that revealed the big cat as its green eyes caught the moonlight and glowed brilliant, blinkless green as it stared at her.

Fear had pierced her heart, but thankfully her legs refused to run because that was her first instinct. Logically, she knew it was wrong, and would cause the cat to chase her, but it was still her first instinct.

She had turned her attention back to getting through the thicket, and once on the other side, she didn’t see the cat anymore. Not knowing where he was, perhaps, was scarier than knowing. It kept her on the move through the night, but in the light of day, she wondered if that too had been a mistake.

Thinking back to when she first split off from the United Paws group, Emily tried to figure out her very first mistake. The group was arguing and fuming and getting themselves riled up for a fight with the loggers, and she was tired of hearing it.

“Your first mistake was thinking it would be fine to walk just a little way away from the group,” she chided herself as she pushed off the ground. “Your second mistake was to think it was okay if you just stepped a few feet off the trail so you could get a better view of the little ravine.” She spied a blackberry bush in full bloom a yard ahead and made a beeline for it.

After cramming a handful in her mouth, she thought that her very first mistake might have been deciding to join UP. She had done it more because her mother had sneered at the idea than because it aligned with her core beliefs and values.

She pulled two more handfuls of berries off the bush, took off her cute ballcap, and dropped them into it. She nibbled while she walked, trying to follow the stream. It was her only source of water. The farther she walked, though, the farther the mountainous terrain pushed her from the stream.

Biting into a bitter blackberry, she gagged. Roughing it was only romantic when it was in the movies or in a book. In real life, it sucked, and she couldn’t wait to get back to her life and all its conveniences.

How long could she feasibly live on what she could scrounge from the forest before she became so malnourished that she couldn’t go on? Muscles that had been strong and full of life only two days ago were struggling and trembling with weakness as she made her way slowly along a steep slope.

Every little while, Emily stopped, held her breath, and strained her ears for sounds of people. She heard nothing but birds above and small ground critters running around below. Somewhere in between, squirrels barked and chittered if she walked too close. Otherwise, it was the wind soughing through the lush, thick greenery and nothing else. Should she be glad because at least she hadn’t run into any dangerous animals or people, or should she be terrified that she might be so lost that she could perish before getting out?

She chose the former and pushed the latter from her mind. The sun had already crossed the midpoint of the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the shadows crept over the land, long and dark, and bringing back the mountain lion. He might be hungry next time they ran into each other.

A sob escaped her throat at the thought of another night without shelter or real food. Though she lost her appetite for the berries, she carried them in the hat for later. If she could find a cave, or a hollow in a big tree, she would feel safer, but she found neither.

Dragging one foot and forcing it in front of the other, she continued to walk in what she perceived as a straight line. As straight as any line could be in that crooked forest. Sometime later, maybe a few minutes, maybe a couple of hours, she stepped out of the thickness of trees and into a line of scarce trees. In front of her, thirty feet at most, sticking out of the tall windswept grasses was the roof of a structure.

Emily’s heart leaped in her chest, and she burst out of the tree line on numb legs. “Hello?!” she yelled in a scratchy, weak voice. “Anybody home?” Her voice didn’t carry far, and it didn’t matter anyway. The structure was made mostly of glass, and nobody was around it.

All she could see was shelter as she waded through the shoulder-high grass, hoping she wouldn’t step on a snake. She kept her eyes on the greenhouse, and a smile of relief bloomed in her heart.

The doorknob wasn’t rusted as she had expected it to be. Sunlight gleamed off its gold-colored surface. She chuckled and didn’t know why. The door looked ancient. Thinking it would be hard to open, she turned the knob, grabbed it with both hands and yanked. Her squawk of surprise as she landed on her butt sent a flock of nearby pheasants into the air. Their wings beat the air as loud as the whomping of helicopter blades.

The hot air rushed out of the little house and caused her to cough. It smelled horrible, but she went in anyway, taking small sips of air as she pulled the door closed behind her. The wooden bottom half of the walls seemed sturdy, and if she stayed low, a passing animal wouldn’t see her. And surely, the bad smell would mask her own scent.

Fanning her hand in front of her face, Emily turned to inspect the plants standing in beds along the back wall and some of both side walls. They were strange looking, but she thought familiar. She extended a hand toward the closest one, meaning to pull it close to her nose when she realized the smell was coming from them, and the smell was familiar.

“Oh, no,” she said, recoiling.

She had stumbled into someone’s marijuana greenhouse. Out in the middle of nowhere. Emily backed to the door in a near-panic. If the owners caught her in there… She didn’t want to think about it.

Opening the door again, she used the hem of her UP t-shirt to wipe away any prints she might have left on the knob, and stepped out, closing the door again. For good measure, she used her shirttail on the outside knob again. If the owners got busted sometime in the future, she didn’t want her prints being found there. Even if she didn’t make it out of the forest alive, she didn’t want to be associated with something like that.

Adrenaline had rejuvenated her muscles, and she jogged across the small open meadow toward the shadowy forest on its far side. For all its dangers, the dense forest was a place of perceived safety for her.

The creek was long gone, but she didn’t have time to worry about that or the missing hat with her evening meal still in it. She couldn’t remember where she had dropped the hat, and hoped it wasn’t in the greenhouse.

All that mattered was getting out of the open. Like a deer shying from the dangers of the open meadow, she felt exposed and wished she had skirted the area. If she kept running, she decided, she would come across someone eventually. She had to, right? Straight lines were supposed to lead to safety. That was a rule. She hoped it held true.

The welcoming cover of the forest enveloped Emily, and she slowed her pace. Her muscles hummed with threats of cramps, and her lungs burned. The stitch in her side tried to bend her double, but she pressed against it hard with one hand and continued to walk as fast as the woodland would allow.

Emily never even had a hint of the danger she had walked into. She didn’t hear anyone moving until it was far too late to react.

A big man with a long, full beard grabbed her arm and spun her around like a child’s toy. The last thing Emily saw was his brick-sized fist coming straight at her face.

Travis grabbed Marlene and shook her violently. His wife was the best woman he had ever met; that’s why he made her his wife, but sometimes she needed a good shaking to snap her back to attention.

The girl was a problem. A problem they didn’t need. What they needed less was for Marlene to stand there looking like a stunned deer instead of answering his question. He shook her by the shoulders again. Her head snapped back and forth three times before she finally blinked, breathed in sharply, and looked at him instead of staring through him with shock on her face.

“Grizz,” she said, pointing to the unconscious girl between their feet. “You hit her so hard.”

Travis let go of Marlene and breathed out. She was back. Being ditzy, but at least she was back. “You know it had to be done, Lynx. She came out of the greenhouse.”

“Maybe she didn’t know what it was,” Lynx said, raising her shoulders slowly into a shrug.

“Dammit, woman, look at her. Is there anyone in the world over the age of ten who don’t know pot when they see it growing all around them? Besides, what the hell was she doing in there? Not like we’re listed as a tourist destination way out here.” He jerked his hat from his head and slapped it against his leg, cursing in frustration.

“We can’t just leave her laying out here like this. What are we gonna do with her?” Marlene asked. She turned from the girl and squinted into the distance.

“Well, that’s what I been asking you since she hit the ground. What should we do with her? I mean, if it was just pot…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence.

Marlene’s face finished draining of color and she gave him a wide-eyed look. “Grizz, we can’t do that.”

“Do what?” But he knew exactly what. He also knew that he would need to broach the subject gingerly with his wife. Tough as nails, she was, but sometimes she just didn’t have the guts to do the ugly stuff. And in their business, there was often ugly stuff that had to be tended to.

“I won’t kill her. If it needs doing, you’ll have to do it.” She wiped a hand down over her mouth and looked around nervously as if already guilty of the crime.

“Killing her might not be the best idea, anyway,” he said after a few seconds of thought on the subject.

“Then what?”

“If she came out here and found us, who else might show up? I mean, she’s pretty, just look at her. Young, too. Nice clothes, and that shirt is from an animal rights group. How long before they miss her and report it to the cops?”

“So, we’re way the hell out here. No cops are going to come this far looking for her. Animal rights… Wonder what’s going on that activists came out here in the willywags in the first place?”

Travis hadn’t really thought about that, but once he did, he had no answer. “Don’t know. Don’t care. What I care about is that cops got dogs. Tracking dogs. They might lead the cops right out here in the middle of our set-up. Wouldn’t that be a steaming pile?”

“So, we take her back in the direction she came and dump her,” Marlene said, pointing with finality. “That’s the smart thing to do.”

“And have her wake up and tell the cops what she saw?”

“They won’t bother coming out just to check out a few pot plants in an old abandoned building. Not this far out.”

“They will when she tells them how I knocked her out.”

“Dammit, why didn’t you just let her run on by?” Marlene grabbed double-handfuls of her own hair and pulled as she voiced a wordless cry.

It was something Travis had become accustomed to seeing from his wife when she was really upset. Others thought she was touched in the head when she showed her idiosyncrasies, but he knew it was just Lynx trying to keep her emotions under control. She would usually hurt herself before turning that rage toward anyone or anything else. A childhood of beatings and bindings at the hands of her abusive father had conditioned her for it.

“We could keep her,” Travis said flatly, unsure of how to accomplish ‘keeping’ a young woman like her. Females could be so unpredictable. They could be near death one minute, and the next, rage with the strength of ten. “She looks pale and weak, and we would want to keep her that way.” He nudged her thigh with his boot. “That’s lean muscle. Young muscle. She was in prime shape not so long ago.”

“Why’s she look sickly now, you reckon?”

He shrugged and looked across the meadow to the other woods. “Maybe she got lost.”

“You know, if she was in Acadia Forest and got separated from her group, she’s been wandering around out here for a while.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Acadia. Heck, could’ve been farther away than that even.”

Marlene pointed across the open space to the shadowed woods the girl had come from. “Either way, if she came from that direction, there are creeks out there.”

“Streams, yeah.”

“Them tracking dogs can’t keep her trail if she crossed the water out there.” Marlene smiled and put her hands on her hips.

There was the beauty he’d fallen for all those years ago. She wasn’t gone, she just hid under the ragged exterior of a much-older-looking woman who was living rough. In his head, Travis renewed the promise he’d made to Marlene almost a decade before: I’m going to save enough money this year to get us out of this way of living.

“Those streams ain’t wide enough to throw off a tracker dog, Lynx, but it was a good thought. Smart of you.” He bent and turned the girl onto her back. He pulled her hands over her head and nodded toward her feet.

“What?” Marlene asked.

“Get her feet, Lynxie. We got to take her up to the cabin.”

“We’re keeping her?” she exclaimed loudly.

Crows fluttered out of a nearby tree at the sudden loud sound.

Travis dropped the girl’s hands and stood with a huff. He adjusted his hat, bit back an urge to scream at his wife, and nodded again. “Yes, we’re going to keep her in case we might need her.”

“For what? You looking for a housekeeper, a gardener, or a cook for the kitchen up there in that fine mansion we got?”

“In case we need her for leverage, Lynx. Don’t be stupid. Get her by the ankles and help me get her to the cabin before she wakes up.”

“Leverage for what?” Marlene spread the girl’s ankles and stepped between them, putting one on each of her hips and gripping them tight as she could.

“In case we’re discovered by the cops out here.” He walked backward toward the narrow path that led up the hill to their cabin.

“Jesus, Grizz. A hostage?”

“Might be necessary. Always have a Plan B. Always have a bargaining chip. Always have an—”

“Ace in the hole,” Marlene finished for him. “Yeah, I got it. Don’t think it’s a good idea, but here we are.” She glared down at the bobbing, lolling head of the girl. “Stupid girl. Why did you have to end up here? Of all places you could have gone, you just had to come here.” She gripped the girl’s ankles so hard that her knuckles turned white, and did that wordless scream through gritted teeth again. “Bad idea.”

“You want I should just kill her, then? Cause you know well as I do that we can’t let her go.”

“No. Yeah, maybe. No.”

“You always get this way when the hard decisions have to be made. You’re making me crazy, woman.”

“Sorry, Grizz. I was just thinking that if you kill her, we could just get rid of the body. No body, no evidence.”

“It’s ‘no body, no murder’.”

“Same thing. But it won’t stop them from looking for her. We can’t get caught cooking up here. This ain’t just a little dope, you know.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Even if it was just a little, I wouldn’t want anyone finding us. We’ll decide what to do with her later. Let’s just get her up there and get her tied up. Before she wakes up and I have to punch her out again.”

“Do brain damage hitting her that hard, too.” She adjusted the ankles and tilted her head in a ‘hurry-up’ motion.

Travis happily obliged.

As they maneuvered their package in through the small front door, Travis was again hit with the realization that he hadn’t exactly lived up to his promises for Marlene. The place was small, and most of it had been built using reclaimed wood, tin, and even windows from the dump down the mountain on the West Virginia side. Marlene had never once complained, though. She was tough and loyal. She was just the kind of partner he needed in life and in business, he supposed.

“I don’t like this, Grizz,” Marlene said in a low voice.

“You think I do?”

They put the girl on the two-seater and then looked at her with their hands on their hips.

“Now what?” Marlene asked, still looking at the girl.

“I’ll get something to tie her up.” He went into the other room and rummaged through the junk drawer until he found a short length of nylon cord left over from tying tarps over his crop last fall when the frost came earlier than anyone predicted. It would be enough to bind her wrists but not her ankles. He picked up a used roll of duct tape, ripped off what was left, and went back into the space they used for the living room.

“Roll her onto her side,” he ordered, shoving the cord into his pocket. The tape barely reached around the girl’s ankles, but he thought it would hold. He tied her wrists behind her back with the cord and put a knot in that would tighten when she tried to pull her hands apart.

“You think that’ll hold her?” Marlene touched the tape.

“It’s good enough. You’ll stay here with her all the time to make sure she don’t get loose. Even if she gets her feet loose, how far can she run with her hands tied behind like that?” He knew from experience that one couldn’t get far with their hands tied behind. It would always throw off the person’s balance.

“So, I’m the babysitter,” Marlene said, pursing her lips into a thin line. “This was your idea, Grizz. You sit with her. I don’t want to deal with it.” She thrust out her chin defiantly, fire in her eyes.

Travis chuckled and thumbed her chin. “You’re so adorable when you’re mad.”

She slapped his hand away and backed up. “And you’re big as a bear all the time. If she tried to run, you could just sit on her feet. I’ll have to fight with her, and she’s taller than me. Probably outweighs me by at least twenty pounds, too.”

“That came real close to sounding like a whine, Lynx. Come on. Where’s my wildcat?” He nudged her shoulder with his fist. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

“Screw you. You know I ain’t soft. Go on. Get out of here before I change my mind.” She flung the door open and turned her head away from him.

“There’s my bad cat,” he said, leaning and enveloping her in a hug. He nuzzled the side of her neck, growling like a bear.

Marlene squealed and batted at his head and shoulders before melting into laughter.

He stood straight and smiled down at her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, well that drying won’t tend itself, so.” She shrugged and glanced at the girl. “Don’t worry about her. I’ll watch her. We’ll be fine. You just do a good job out there. Can’t afford any screw-ups.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Got a lot riding on this next batch. Biggest one we’ve had.” And he almost made the promise again. The promise to get them out of the lifestyle, move them somewhere nice, and have a kid or two, but something stopped him. It wasn’t even knowing that it likely wouldn’t happen again. It was more a feeling of doom that settled first on his shoulders and then crept into his chest and stomach.

Marlene swatted at him. “Then go. Go make us rich, baby.”

Ava sat at a table in the gym with Daryl Mercer’s post-mortem reports. The townspeople were eager to blame the death on the Wildman of Acadia Forest, but that was just a legend. There couldn’t be any truth to such a claim. The deaths of years prior were only misidentified animal attacks. Had to be. There was no other explanation for it. A man, or men, living out in the wilderness and killing people was a crazy idea.

She pushed the reports into the folder and stretched her back.

Metford came in. “Was Mercer a bear attack, you think?”

“No. the ME doesn’t think so, either.” Reluctantly, she opened the folder again.

“Folks are still saying it’s the—”

“Stop right there,” Ava said, holding out a hand. “I can’t hear another story about the lunatic feral man of Acadia Forest or I’ll explode.”

“It’s Wildman of Acadia Forest, not lunatic feral whatever you said.” Metford plopped into a chair across from her and turned the folder so he could look over the reports.

Ava groaned. “You don’t believe that story, do you?”

“Who, me?” He feigned shock. “Nah, not me. I mean, just look who’s spreading the stories. All these lifelong residents. Pfft. What do they know about their local history that we don’t?”

“Being sarcastic is a pleasant way to avoid answering the question.”

“I thought so. Added a pinch of spice to the day, didn’t it?”

“I need coffee. Did you bring a side order of coffee with that sarcasm by any chance?”

“I did not, but I know this great little place in town, if—”

Carter rushed into the room, drawing their full attention. “There’s another body,” he said in a rush. He stopped at the end of the table, his cheeks flushed an alarming deep red as he heaved for breath.

“Are you okay?” Metford asked.

Ava moved toward the man, afraid he might fall down right there. “Were you running? Do you need to sit?”

Metford pulled a chair from under the table and positioned it behind Sheriff Carter. “Sit for a minute, Sheriff.” He reached for the man’s arm, but Carter shrugged it away and scowled at them.

“I don’t need to sit. I’m not having a heart attack, dammit, I was just in a hurry to tell you that another man was found mutilated just a half-mile north of where the Harrises were found.” Pushing upright from the table, his leg hit the chair and it groaned over the polished wood floor. He cringed. “These chairs and tables should be on mats. Going to ruin this gym floor.” He picked up the chair and put it back in its place under the table.

“Okay,” Ava said, still worried about the sheriff’s health. Nobody’s face turned that color if they really were fine. “What man?”

“Another hiker, from the looks of the scene. Two rangers and my deputy are keeping the perimeter secure for now, if you want to take a look, but the ME will take the body…” He looked at his watch. “In about ten more minutes. Said he couldn’t just let it lie there in the elements any longer than that. I tried to get here fast enough that you could get there before he hauled the body away, but it looks like I didn’t make it. Those activists have traffic backed up all over the place.”

“Who found the body?” Metford asked. “I hope it wasn’t another group of kids.” He glanced at Ava, who nodded agreement.

“No, no. It was the rangers. They stepped up their foot patrols since the Harrises and Mercer. I think they’re auxiliary rangers on loan from West Virginia or somewhere. I didn’t get all those details; I was more concerned with the new corpse found in the largest tourist destination in the western half of the state, just to be honest.” His tone was biting.

“Well, what are we still doing here?” Ava asked, directing the question to Metford.

He shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“Where to, exactly?” Sheriff Carter asked.

“The site. You lead the way,” Ava said.

“If you’re up to it,” Metford added quickly.

Carter’s eyebrows crawled together over the bridge of his nose. “I told you, I’m fine.” He turned toward the door and pushed his hat back on his head. “Work circles around you any day of the week, kiddo.”

Ava tried to stifle a laugh and failed miserably. Metford shot her a look, and she mouthed “kiddo” at him before more laughter bubbled up.

“Yuck it up back there,” Carter said, flinging the door wide and stomping outside. “One day, you’ll both be my age and have to put up with heckling youngsters who act just like you. Then we’ll see who laughs.”

Ava cleared her throat and stopped laughing. “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t laughing at you,” she said, glancing at Metford. “It was him.”

Carter stopped briefly before opening his car door and eyed them both. “Right. Anyway, keep up, and watch for that group of activists. They’ll walk right out in front of you.”

“Will do. Thanks for the heads-up,” Ava said, turning to the decommissioned cruiser on-loan from the county.

“I’m glad I went and picked up this loaner even if it is ancient,” Metford said, getting comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Better than riding with them everywhere. I can’t believe this town doesn’t even have a car rental business.”

“Not exactly a big city here. I don’t think they have much need for renting cars. Jeeps or four-wheel-drives maybe, but not just normal cars.”

“Wonder if this new body is the work of a bear?” Ava worried aloud.

“If it is, we have big problems, but not as big as if a person did it. If that’s the case, we could be looking at a serial killer.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. The rangers could hunt down a bear. Trap it, or whatever their protocol is.”

“Either possibility is bad,” Metford said.

They followed Carter out of the town proper and onto a narrower paved two-lane road. Only minutes later, the road narrowed again, and while still being deemed fit for two lanes of opposing traffic, there were no lines. If she drove a few inches too much to the right, she would end them up in a deep ditch. A few inches too far to the left, and she wouldn’t be able to pass by any oncoming vehicles. When a truck lumbered past them, she moved over and the tires on the passenger side dropped several inches from the edge of the pavement onto the hardpack earth. The steering wheel jerked to the right, and Ava almost overcorrected. The tires barked as she braked hard and pulled back into her unmarked lane. Sweat oozed from her palms and she gripped the wheel tight enough to earn cracks from her knuckles. Metford grabbed for the armrest and the oh-crap handle to keep his balance.

“Sorry,” Ava said through the tightness in her jaw. “I remember why I don’t really miss driving in the country.”

“Not much play room over here,” Metford said nervously. “Just saying.”

“Or over here,” she replied, not taking her eyes from the road.

“He’s signaling. Maybe we’re almost there.” He let go of the overhead handle and shifted in his seat.

Ava followed when Carter turned left, and to her dismay, the road narrowed even further. “This is a one-lane marked for incoming and outgoing. So stupid,” she muttered.

“There’s no drop-off into a ditch on either side, though,” Metford pointed out.

“No, I don’t have to worry about ditches, just trees. Makes it so much better.”

Metford snickered lightly. “Maybe someone should put out a public safety announcement to let people know that if they’re going to die, do it somewhere with safe access for law enforcement.”

“You’re a jerk sometimes, you know that?” She grinned despite her best attempt not to. He was using sarcasm to break the tension, and she knew that, but as usual, it was at the wrong time.

“And yet, you love that about me. Don’t even try to deny it.” He grinned his juvenile impish grin at her.

She didn’t answer. She did love that about him. Even though his comments and actions were sometimes misguided and always at horribly inappropriate times, he never failed to break the tension and drag her abruptly out of any bad humor she might be in. She would always be the first to admit she needed that every now and again. But she wouldn’t let him know it, or he would undoubtedly become worse with it.

After what seemed like an hour of crawling around hairpin curves and pulling off the pavement to allow vehicles to pass safely, Carter finally pulled off the road into a wide, graveled area marked as ATV parking.

The only vehicles there were official. The white ME van was nowhere to be seen, and Ava hadn’t passed it on the way up the mountain. The forest ranger green truck sat at the far end of the lot, a state trooper’s cruiser beside it, and a blue and gray early 2000s sedan on the other end of the lot. A woman stood there talking to a man in a white crime scene collections suit, the type that reminded Ava of a hazmat suit, which made sense if there was a lot of blood. The knees and lower legs of the suit were soiled deeply.

“Looks like there was a mess,” Metford said, looking pointedly at the hazmat-suited guy. He exhaled deeply. “Better get the gloves out.” He opened the door and exited the car.

“Hey!” Metford yelled over to Mr. Hazmat. “You already process the scene?”

“No. Wear the booties over there, and watch where the heck you step. They’re still working up there.”

Ava joined Carter. Metford fell in step beside them.

“Booties and gloves are over here,” Carter said, pointing to the place where gravel met grass. “Poor bastard,” he muttered. “Bits and pieces of him were everywhere.”

Ava and Metford exchanged a look. Her heart clutched. Maybe it had been another bear.

They got their gear and followed a silent Sheriff Carter up the slight incline. As he topped over the peak, he said, “Scene starts here. Watch your step.” He stepped three large steps to the right and motioned for them to catch up.

The small area was in the middle of a stand of tall evergreens and hickories. The grasses were smashed flat in what resembled bear wallows that Ava had seen near the river where she and her father used to fish, only this one covered much more area and was coated in blood and bits of tissue. The air was tinged with copper and something fouler. She thought human excrement but wasn’t certain.

A hiking trail cut across the far end of the scene. Yellow tape extended to the trees and grass beyond the trail. A crime scene tech was squatted near the trail with his back to Ava. She walked toward him and stopped short when he used long tweezers to lift a two-inch-wide and five-inch-long strip of flesh from the ground and drop it into a collection bag.

“Were there bite marks on the victim?” Ava asked.

“He was such a mess that I couldn’t tell,” Carter admitted. “ME won’t know until he gets the body cleaned up so he can tell what’s what. This was a frenzy-kill, for sure. Looks like the guy put up one heck of a fight, too.”

Ava agreed. The attack had been frenzied, but she couldn’t say it looked like the Harrises’ scene. “Make sure to get impressions of any tracks in the cordoned area,” she said. “I want all the evidence tested for hair, fibers, and look for DNA that doesn’t belong to the victim.”

The tech stood and turned to her with a tuft of what looked to be animal fur in the tweezers. He put it in a bag and scowled at her. “I might not be from here, but I assure you that I know how to do my job. Been doing it for twenty years, and I would guess that’s just a few years shy of your age.”

“So, you’re on loan?” she asked, keeping her expression set. She would never let someone like that know how deeply he had offended her.

The man scoffed and turned his back to place the bag in a box just outside the cordoned perimeter. “From Carlos. I worked in Houston before that.” He turned back to face her with a smirk. “Who are you, anyway? I don’t like people trampling all over my crime scenes. Makes it harder to collect pure evidence.”

“Special Agent James,” Ava said, smiling a smile that felt more like the smirk he wore. “And my partner is Special Agent Metford.”

He lost his smirk and defensive body language momentarily but was quick to recover both. “Conroy,” he responded simply with a bit of a snarl. “FBI. Carter, I thought this was your crime scene.”

“It is,” Carter said, holding up a hand to cut off any argument before it started. “She’s just here to assist.”

Ava was grateful that Carter vouched for her, but she didn’t miss the dark look shared between him and Conroy. There was history there. Corruption and power struggles were everywhere in politics. Even in small towns like Glencoe. Perhaps especially so.

“Where are the rangers who found the body?” Ava asked, hoping to move on from the moment of tension.

“Over here,” a man called from the far end of the cordoned area.

Ava and Metford walked outside the perimeter, looking at the scene as they made their way to the rangers.

“You think this was an animal attack?” he asked as they walked slowly.

“I don’t think so, but I could be wrong. Something feels wrong about it.” She scanned the dirt beside the hiking trail. Prints were clearly visible in the rich, black dirt. She stopped so fast that Metford bumped into her.

“What is it?” he asked, moving to her side and trying to look where she did.

“Right there. Do you see that?” She pointed at a patch of dirt that was about five feet in length and maybe eight inches wide. “See that? Bear prints.”

“I see them. Two and two. So it was a bear attack?”

“It was standing on its hind legs, advancing on them. See how the tracks are the same?”

The rangers came closer, leaning over the yellow tape. “What’s going on?” one of them asked.

“Come here,” Ava said without looking up. She pointed out the prints. “Is that a bear print?”

“Yeah. But the back feet only.” He looked at Ava, puzzled.

“Do bears walk on their hind legs?”

The rangers nodded to each other and then to her. “They can, yes. It’s not like they can’t.”

“How far do they walk like that, usually?”

“Oh, just a few feet. They get on their hind legs when they fight, too, but there aren’t any other bears here. Or, they didn’t leave any tracks if there was. No front paw tracks.” He leaned and looked again, squinting hard at the dark earth. “No human prints, either.” He looked up and to each side. “No berries or nuts or nests he would have been trying to reach, either.” He began looking in the opposite direction, and he pointed with excitement. “Here, look. The bear was walking on his hind feet for several yards.”

Ava saw the prints. “Conroy, have your team look for bear prints. I want pictures or impressions of every print you find. There are at least twelve or more over here.”

Conroy nodded once in acknowledgement.

“What are you thinking?” the ranger asked.

“Not sure. Anyway, you’re the two who found the body?”

“Yes,” they said simultaneously.

“Do you know who the victim was?”

“We only touched his neck and wrist to see if there was a pulse,” the first ranger said. “We didn’t touch anything else to look for ID or anything.”

“That’s good. Was there anybody else around the scene?”

“No. Nobody came through for a long time,” the other ranger said.

“Who, and how long?” Metford asked.

“Oh, we stopped him before he saw anything. Just a guy out doing a day-hike.”

“Did you get a name?” Ava asked.

“No. Didn’t think we needed to,” the first ranger said.

Ava put her hands on her hips and turned to look down the way at Conroy, who was still working in the same spot as before. She looked to the rangers again. “Have either of you ever seen the aftermath of a bear attack?”

The rangers shook their heads. She should have known from the lack of color in their faces and their identical frightened expressions.

“Ever seen a dead body before?” Metford asked.

“No,” they said in unison. Their voices had a hollow quality.

“What are your names?” Ava asked, taking out her notepad and pen.

“Bert Roberts,” said the first ranger.

“Frank Jones,” his partner said.

“I think that’s all for now. If I have questions later, I’ll get in touch. Can I reach you at Alcott’s station?”

“For as long as they have us here,” Roberts said.

Jones produced a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Ava. “This is the number for our station over in West Virginia.”

Ava took the card and thanked them. Metford followed her back the same way they had come. Carter stood in the same place with his arms crossed, frowning at the scene.

Ava stepped close to him. “Sheriff, make sure he gets all the bear prints like I asked.”

“I will, but I don’t see the importance of it. This is a forest; there are going to be a lot of bear prints, and maybe not from the bear that killed that man.”

“I still need them. Speaking of the victim, did you get his name?”

“Ramirez, I think was the name on his ID. Medical examiner has all that now.”

“Why didn’t you get the basic information?”

“Because I was busy securing the scene and redirecting foot traffic away from here. Are you questioning my ability to do my job now?”

“Absolutely not,” Ava said. “I was just asking questions. It’s my job, you know.”

“Well, you can go ask the examiner all the questions you want. He’ll have more answers than I do at this point.”

“I thought Stephanie Dean was the Chief Medical Examiner in Glencoe,” Ava said.

“She is. She was down in the parking area when we came up, but her assistant was handling the transport of this victim.”

“Why?”

“Does the name on my shirt say ‘Google’?”

Ava forced a grin and stepped around Carter. “I’ll go ask Dr. Dean,” she said, fighting the urge to engage in an argument that she would ultimately win.

As they descended the incline, Metford said, “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” she threw over her shoulder at him.

“Your response back there. What did you tell me once? You attract more flies with honey than with vinegar? Well, it would have been real easy to throw around some serious vinegar back there at least twice.”

“The day is young,” she said. “Plenty of time to ferment.”

Dr. Dean prepared to begin the examination and autopsy of the latest victim. Ava and Detective Senn stood across the room waiting for her to remove the sheet from the body.

Senn shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “You ever watch an autopsy before?”

“Yes,” Ava answered.

“I guess you’ve seen a lot of things the regular cops around here never will. Being with the FBI and all.”

She nodded once. Where was the conversation headed? What was his angle? She wouldn’t entertain the notion of sharing war stories with him, if that’s what he had in mind.

Dr. Dean looked at them from behind her plastic shield. “Are you sure you wanna stay for this?”

“Yes, I need to see the wounds and hear what you think caused them,” Ava said.

Senn shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, too.”

“If you feel faint…” She looked directly at Ava. “If you feel light-headed, sit before you fall, please. I don’t want to report an accident, and I don’t have time to deal with it.”

“Why would I feel faint?” Ava asked. “It’s not my first time in the autopsy room, Dr. Dean.”

Her age and gender were the cause of a lot of the reactions she had gotten from people. Instead of engaging, it was best to just prove their assumptions wrong. It wouldn’t do for a bad report to get back to Sal and Dr. Bran. An outburst in the field might land her on desk-duty for months.

Dean looked at Senn. “That goes for you, too.”

“I promise to aim for the trash can if I hurl.” He crossed his heart and then shoved his hands back into his pockets.

Dean removed the sheet from the body. She recorded her observations as she examined the wounds.

Carter had been right in assuming it was a frenzy killing. The condition of Ramirez’ torso looked like he had been on the wrong end of an argument with a power tool instead of a bear.

“Are there any bite marks?” Ava asked.

Dean shook her head. “None that I have seen yet.”

After a few moments, Dean motioned toward the window in the door behind Ava and Senn. An assistant entered and they rolled Ramirez over. The wounds on his back were cleaner, clearer, and easier to make sense of even though they were shocking.

Dean continued with her observations. Once finished, she pointed to the marks running down the center of Ramirez’ back. “See that?”

Ava and Senn moved closer and leaned in.

“Yeah, four claw marks,” Senn said, hooking his hand into a claw and swiping at the air over the victim.

“They aren’t consistent,” Dean said. “And there was hardly any blood.”

“Guy’s trying to run away, bear swipes get a little sloppy, victim falls onto his back, and his clothes soak up what blood there is while the bear makes mincemeat out of his front.”

“No. The marks on his back were made postmortem. He was already dead.”

“So, the bear was checking. They do that, you know?” Senn thumbed his nose and rocked on his heels again.

“But he was found lying on his back,” Ava said.

Senn shrugged. “Bear rolled him over as he was checking to make sure the threat was neutralized.”

“That’s not all,” Dean said. “Not only were the marks on his back made after he was dead. They aren’t as deep or ferocious. Like the attacker was getting weak. And I believe all the damage on his front side was done first. But it doesn’t make sense that a bear would kill him, roll him over, slash his back three times, and then roll him over again so he was found faceup. And, there was no indication of soil in the wounds on his stomach or chest.”

“There would be a lot of dirt mixed in with the blood if he had been rolled onto his stomach after being ripped up like that,” Ava said. “There’s dirt in the marks on his back because they contacted the soil.”

“Exactly,” Dean agreed. “His shirt was dirty on the left side like he had been rolled onto it.” She turned and removed the short-sleeved shirt from another table and held it so they could see.

“It’s on the sleeve, too,” Ava pointed out. She looked at the victim’s left arm. “Was there dirt on his left arm and hand?”

“There was. At the time, I thought it was just due to being in the woods and fighting with a bear. You’re going to get dirty if that happens.”

“Was this a bear attack?” Ava asked. In her heart, she already knew the answer.

Dean carefully put the shirt back in the paper bag on the other table. “In my professional opinion?”

“No, in your soccer-mom opinion,” Senn snapped. “Of course, in your professional opinion.”

“I have the power to make you leave the autopsy room, Mr. Senn. I would appreciate a little professional courtesy, especially when I’m extending mine above and beyond what’s protocol.”

Senn’s face curled into a scowl that sent his eyebrows low over his eyes. “It’s Detective Senn. And if you want professionalism, then be professional, and tell us whether or not a bear did that to him. I don’t like mind games.”

“Maybe you chose the wrong profession,” Dean said. “No, a bear didn’t do this. That’s what I think. I think someone did this and they were hoping we would think it was a bear.”

Senn laughed sarcastically. “Okay, why would you think it wasn’t a bear?”

“If you liked mind games and puzzles a little more, maybe you would have picked up on the fact that there wasn’t a single bite on the victim. That coupled with the fact that there were only prints from the back paws found at the scene make it pretty clear that someone did this, not a bear.” She turned her gaze to Ava. “I’ll be collecting samples for DNA from under his fingernails. You can stay until I’m finished, but he needs to go.”

“Yo, I’m right here,” Senn said, pointing to himself. “Got a problem with me, tell me. She’s not my boss or my babysitter.”

Dean turned to him. “Detective Senn, I’d like you to leave now. I’m finding it difficult to work with you here. I need to concentrate on my job, not on defending myself to you.”

Senn left in a huff.

Dean let out a stiff, deep sigh. “That man makes me crazy.”

“I could take some notes from your playbook on how to keep my cool under such circumstances,” Ava said with a crooked grin.

“I learned the hard way, trust me. Some men just can’t handle a woman in a position that has long been considered a man’s job.” She spread her hands toward Ramirez.

“Don’t I know that all too well?”

They shared a chuckle before Dean got back to work.

Ava left with samples of DNA from Ramirez’ right-hand fingernails to run through the database. It was human, and it didn’t match Ramirez, but it had to be someone’s.

“You’re telling me that you really believe Stephanie Dean over what you saw with your own eyes?” Senn exploded at Carter back in the gym as Ava and the team looked on.

“Stephanie happens to be damn good at her job, and if you weren’t so offended by her for whatever reason you got stuck in your craw, you would admit it and move on.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, gentlemen,” Ava said. “We have work to do here, and we’re getting nowhere by arguing with each other. I saw the victims; I saw the wounds. The Harrises’ wounds looked like they were made by a bear. The others did not. That, coupled with the human DNA found under Ramirez’ fingernails, is enough to let us know we’re dealing with a human culprit here.”

“Why would someone do this, though?” Senn asked. “It makes no sense. The victims had nothing in common. There’s no link between them.”

“Yes, there is,” Dane said from the table a few yards away where she was working.

“What is it, then? Because I can find none.”

“Acadia Forest,” Dane said simply and without stopping her work at the computer.

Senn laughed and dropped his head. “Okay, you got me there. I guess Glencoe is the second thing they all have in common, right?”

Dane bobbed a shoulder. “Looks that way.”

“You think we got a serial killer in Glencoe?” Sheriff Carter asked. The color drained from his face.

“I didn’t say that, but we have to consider all possibilities. As of this moment, any person in Glencoe with prior convictions of violent crime, and/or drug convictions, is a viable suspect. I want all of them questioned again, and ask for voluntary polygraphs from each.”

“You’re serious,” Carter said in a hollow voice. “None of our people could perpetrate such a heinous crime. Sure, they get in barroom brawls, have their troubles with drugs or drink, and have even been known to commit robberies, but they’re not killers. And I know you’re going to counter with the known drug offenders in town. I admit they get into worse trouble, and their violent encounters are a little worse than others, but I still don’t think they could kill a single person, let alone multiple. Not with such violence.”

“Even if they’re no longer in control of their full faculties because of the drugs?”

Carter looked to Senn. They looked worried, but neither said anything more to argue with Ava or her direction. Not that it would have done much good. She had made up her mind about the situation and what needed to be done next. She had known as soon as the DNA showed up under Ramirez’s fingernails.

“We’ll get them in here as soon as we can. It’ll probably be one at a time, as we locate them,” Carter said in a subdued tone.

“Thank you. I’ll get the polygraph tech and the interview areas set up while I’m waiting on results.”

“What if the perp’s DNA doesn’t match anyone in the database?” Senn asked.

“It will,” Ava said confidently. “The level of violence and confidence in these murders doesn’t happen all at once. This isn’t the first time the perp’s been in trouble. He’s escalated to this point. We don’t want it to escalate further.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, Agent James,” Senn said.

“That’s her area of expertise at the Bureau,” Santos said, stepping to Ava’s side.

“Not even thirty, female, and an expert on serial killers.” He chuckled and turned away. “I’m going to round up some troublemakers. That’s my area of expertise, right, Sheriff?”

Carter huffed and didn’t answer as he followed Senn out the door.

“Jerk,” Santos said. “Small-town bigshot right there.” She pointed to Senn.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I butted in to save his stupid ass from being chewed up and spit out, not to help you.” Santos grinned, mock-punched Ava’s shoulder, and headed back to move the interview tables into place with Dane and Metford.

Kris Bates, the polygraph technician from Carlos, set up in the gym office. He didn’t have to say anything. He wasn’t happy about being dragged out to Glencoe to administer tests for the FBI.

He adjusted his thick glasses and looked up as Ava entered the room. His grimace sent wrinkles toward the center of his face. Her mother would have said Mr. Bates’ face had character. Ava just thought he looked like the world’s grumpiest old man. If she didn’t miss her guess, he was beyond retirement age.

“Mr. Bates, thank you for coming out on such short notice. We appreciate—”

“You’re welcome. I’m ready for the first one. I would say while I’m still young, but that time’s passed already.” He motioned out the door. “Who’s first?”

“We haven’t even gone over the questions yet.”

“Don’t matter. Same questions as always. Get the baseline reading, and then ‘Did you know the victim? Did you kill the victim? Did you in any way contribute to the victim’s death? Do you know who killed the victim? Blah, blah, blah.’ And it goes on, and on, and on.”

“Mr. Bates, how long have you been doing this job?”

“I’m seventy-eight next month. I started being a cop at twenty-four. Was advanced slow as molasses in January over the next few decades, and then I ended up with this particular job probably about the time you took your first breath of air.”

What had started out in a way that led Ava to believe he was going to be a little nostalgic, ended with a jab about her age and a smirk. Again. Was the universe testing her resolve?

“So, nearly thirty years. Good. Means you must enjoy it and you’re good at it.”

“I’m too old to make friends, and I don’t want any new ones. Could we just get this going?”

“As soon as we go over the information.” She shut the door and pinned the smile to her face as she took the interviewee seat. She placed her notepad on the desk near the machine.

Twenty minutes later, Ava walked out of the office, and she was glad to be going. Mr. Bates was a character, and not one she liked very much. His misogynistic attitude was veiled only enough to keep him from being brought up to his bosses for formal complaint filings. If she had to deal with him in an office setting every day, she would have been the one to file that formal complaint that could have sent him on to where he clearly wanted to be: home on his couch in front of the TV with nothing more to do forever.

Metford grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t hear the end-of-match bell dinging. What are you doing back out here? Did your coach throw in the towel? Toss you out for a low-blow or a sucker punch?”

“He’s simply despicable, but he has the information now. As unlikable as he is, I’m confident in his ability to administer the tests properly and definitely without bias. That man doesn’t give a hoot about anything but himself.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Metford asked.

“A man after your own heart, huh, Metford?” Santos quipped.

“Yes, it’s good,” Dane interrupted. She dropped two files and nodded toward the door. “Unbiased is always good. Got our first two interviewees.”

Ava recognized the man Carter escorted in, but she couldn’t put a name to him. She motioned for Carter to bring him to her.

“Junkie Thompson,” Carter said by way of introduction.

“Jake,” the scraggly man said. “Jake Thompson. Jeff Thompson’s son.”

Ava nodded, having heard both names over the course of her time in Glencoe. “Of course, Mr. Thompson. Please, have a seat.”

“Mr. Thompson. That’s my dad. Thompson’s Tales in town? Heard of it?” He sat. His eyes tracked wildly from one side to the other, and sometimes they darted up and down a couple of times before taking off in that side-to-side movement again.

“That’s right. He was there the day the bears went on a rampage. I hope he wasn’t hurt.” She opened the file and adjusted in her seat.

“No, but his car was. That was worse than if the bear would have attacked him. He loved that stupid car. Loved it more than me, my brother, my mom combined.” He sneered and spittle flew from the corner of his mouth. He armed it away carelessly.

Ava asked him the standard questions and got the standard answers with the occasional veer-off to toss blame for his situation at his father’s feet.

“Did you know Laura and David Harris, Mr. Thompson?”

“You mean the Harrises who were ripped up on the mountain?”

“Yes.” No use correcting the way he referred to the deaths. It wouldn’t change how he replied.

“Everybody did. Done gave my alibi for that shit.”

“What about Daryl Mercer? You might have heard him referred to as Night Owl by his logging buddies.”

“Oh, yeah. No, I didn’t know him, but I heard the Wildman of Acadia Forest got him. Ripped him right to pieces.” He made tearing gestures and imitated the sound of duct tape being torn.

“The Wildman of Acadia Forest. You believe that story?”

“It’s not a story. He’s real.” Jake leaned forward. “I saw him once. He’s half bear and twice as mean.”

“You saw him? Really?”

Jake nodded emphatically. “Just a few nights ago.”

“Where did you see him, Mr. Thompson?”

“Uhm,” he said, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling and petting one cheek gently as if smoothing the three-day growth there. “I was coming out of the camping area and it was dark.”

“The big campground at the bottom?”

He shook his head. “No, it was the smaller one farther up the trail.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Yeah, but I can’t remember it. Something cheesy about birds or butterflies or something.”

She scribbled the words down on paper. “What about Alex Ramirez?”

“What about him?”

“Did you know him?”

“Never heard of him.”

“Emily Larson?”

He shook his head. “Don’t think so. I meet a lot of women at the bars, but I don’t remember any Emily. She dead, too?”

“Missing. Mr. Thompson, would you take a polygraph concerning the questions you’ve already answered?”

“Polygraph?”

“Yes, more commonly known as a lie-detector test.”

“I know what it is. I’m not stupid. And hell no. I will not agree to any such thing. Those tests aren’t even accurate.”

“It’s just a secondary way for us to confirm that you are being truthful.”

“No. I won’t agree to that. Am I under arrest for something?”

Ava cleared her throat. It was done. He was out. “No, sir.”

He stood. The chair screeched against the floor and the sound echoed in the cavernous room.

“Mr. Thompson, please. If you would just consider helping us out this much. People are dead; murdered right here in your town. We need to put this to bed as soon as possible, and if you would take the test, we could permanently mark you off the list, move on, and stop wasting time and resources looking into your activities.”

“Help you? Help the law like the law always helped me, huh?” He shook his head and did his best gangster wannabe strut right out the door.

“Well, that went well,” Ava muttered, tossing the notes to the side.

“We can’t force them to take the polygraphs, Ava,” Santos said. “As much as we’d like that, we can’t.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to just take their word for it and move on? No, I have to keep a watch on them somehow, and if they all refuse to take the tests, we’re not going to have enough people to watch them.”

“Yeah, there’s a list of ’em, but what else can we do?”

“We’ll narrow the list after we talk to all of them,” Metford said. “Maybe some will be more convincing with their alibis, and some might even agree to the lie detector test.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll figure it out,” Ava said.

“We always do,” Dane chimed in with a smile. “Hey, got another one.”

“Two more pulling in the lot,” Metford said.

Deputy Olivia Parker escorted Eddie “Needles” Martinez and Tommy “Trouble” Jenkins into the gym.

Ava motioned for Eddie and sent Tommy over to Metford.

Officer Jenkins brought in Lisa Reynolds, better known in Glencoe as The Lush. Dane motioned her over. As Officer Jenkins walked back out, he and Tommy Jenkins eyed each other. Officer Jenkins looked scathingly disappointed. Tommy dropped his gaze to the floor and ran a hand over his face. Metford noticed the exchange as well, but he said nothing to either man about it.

Ava sat in front of Eddie, who snickered under his breath as he stole glances at the two Jenkins men.

“Something funny, Mr. Martinez?” she asked.

“Yeah. That.” He tilted his head toward Officer Jenkins walking out the door looking sour and stiff.

“What’s funny about that?”

“You didn’t see how he was eyeing his cousin back there? Talk about being different as night and day.”

“Cousins? I thought Officer Jenkins wasn’t even from here.”

“He’s not. Little branch of the family broke off and moved down south somewhere. Tennessee, I think, but he found his way back here, didn’t he? What is it they say? Blood calls to blood, or some shit like that.”

It was an interesting side note, but not something Ava wanted to pursue at the moment. Did it really matter if they were related? In small towns, lots of people on opposing sides of the law were related. “Kinda like you and Ace, right?”

The snide laughter died, and his gaze settled hotly on Ava. He sniffed and rubbed his forearm through the dirty flannel shirt. “Yeah, whatever. Why am I here?”

Ava put the interview questions to him and got unsatisfactory answers. “Mr. Martinez, would you be willing to take a polygraph to back up your somewhat shady accounts of where you were and if you knew these people?”

“A lie detector test?” He snorted and waved a hand as if shooing a fly.

“Yes. If you’re telling the truth, what do you have to lose? And it would help us find whoever killed these people. Wouldn’t you want someone to help if it were your little sister?”

“Leave Ace out of this. She’s been through more than she should’ve at her age.”

“And I’m very sorry that she saw the Harrises the way she did.”

“Yeah, me too, but they was killed by bears, right, not by someone?”

“Right. It was terrible all the same, though. Ace is a strong girl, but I’m sure it affected her terribly.”

He snorted again. “Yeah, what do you know about it?”

“A lot more than you think, Mr. Martinez. As long as this killer is on the loose, everyone in town is in danger. You realize that, I’m sure.”

After a long pause, he rubbed at his arm again then leaned forward and propped his arms on the table. “Yeah. Including Ace. She won’t stay home where she’s supposed to. Can’t blame her for that. Yeah, I’ll take your test. I got nothing to hide. Not about the deaths anyway.” He grinned, showing a chipped front tooth and a missing lower one.

“Thank you.” She got the paperwork and motioned for him to follow her to Bates’ makeshift office.

Lisa Reynolds had gone. Another one who refused the polygraph. Another one to put on the watchlist. Ava reckoned Meatloaf had it right when he said, ‘two out of three ain’t bad,’ but she wished the numbers were better for the sake of the cases.

Returning to the interview area, Ava wasn’t surprised to see Detective Senn bringing in Ray “Spooky” Benson. Dane intercepted them as she was closest to the door. He looked even worse than when she’d interviewed him before. The man’s eyes were never still, and neither was any of the rest of him that she could tell. He was in constant motion, keeping vigil over every movement around him.

Minutes later, Carter brought in Bobby Whitfield, and he went straight to Santos’ table. Metford and Tommy Jenkins shared a laugh and then walked to Bates’ office. Metford gave her a thumbs-up as he passed nearby.

Five minutes after Metford took Jenkins toward the office, Eddie Martinez walked out.

“Hey, I took your test,” he called over to Ava.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Might say I ‘Aced’ it.” He grinned again and disappeared out the door with a little bounce in his step. He had done something he was proud of. Ava had to wonder how long it had been since he had done anything he was truly proud of. She hoped he aced the test, too, whether it was only in self-interest or for the sake of his little sister.

Deputy Parker walked in, passing Martinez in the doorway. “Darla Mitchell is here for you,” she said to Ava.

“Sure thing. Send her over.” Ava cleared the previous files and found Darla’s.

“Am I in trouble for something? Olivia wouldn’t tell me anything specific. She was real vague like she was hiding something.”

“No, you’re not, Ms. Mitchell. We’re just interviewing people in light of the murders that have taken place.”

“Murders? What the—” She shoved her chair back under the table. It clattered as she put her hands on her hips.

“Don’t worry; you’re not being charged with anything. We’re looking for information only at this point. Please, just sit and answer a few questions.”

“So, I’m not being held?”

“No.” As soon as she said it, Ava wished she had been a little vaguer.

Darla flipped her unbrushed hair and started for the door.

“Ms. Mitchell, please,” Ava said, standing to go after her.

“It’s DeeDee. Ms. Mitchell is my good-for-nothing mother.”

“Okay, DeeDee. Come sit with me for a few minutes. That’s all it’ll take. Promise.”

DeeDee turned on her heel and looked Ava up and down distrustfully. She moved back to the seat. “I don’t know why I trust any of you. You never did a thing for me. None of you. Neither did any of the murdered people.”

“Oh, so you knew Daryl Mercer and Alex Ramirez?” Ava grabbed her pen.

“Hell, no. Should I?”

“You said they never did anything for you. I thought you—”

“Don’t matter. Living or dead, none of them ever did anything for DeeDee Mitchell.” She put her finger to her own chest. “They don’t even see me. Nobody sees me, but now all of a sudden, I’m supposed to help out of the goodness of my heart. Well, there’s not much good left in it, I tell you.”

“I’m sure there is plenty of good left in you, DeeDee. I know your life’s probably been rough—”

“Are you going to get to the questions or make me sit through a puke-fest cheese-o-rama for the rest of the evening?”

Ava clamped her mouth shut and looked to the file. She resisted trying to be nice to the woman, and instead, focused on questions. In the middle of questioning, Tommy Jenkins left the polygraph office with his head and gaze down. Dane took Ray Benson to Bates’ office and showed him in.

“What are they doing?” DeeDee asked, pointing to Bates’ room.

“Polygraph tests.”

“Holy crap. Really?”

Ava nodded and continued with the questions. DeeDee seemed overly thoughtful, deliberately ambiguous, and sly with her answers.

“You know what would clear up all my misgivings about your alibis and answers, DeeDee?”

DeeDee crossed her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, I do.”

“What’s that?”

“You want me to take one of them tests, don’t you?”

“Would you?”

DeeDee laughed. “I don’t know. They seem a little hinky to me. Untrustworthy. I heard that if you’re nervous, you can get false readings on them.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No, but I’m getting irritated. Wouldn’t that count as being agitated? Would that cause a false reading?”

“I’m not the expert. Mr. Bates is. He could answer all your questions about the test.”

“He any good?”

“The best in Carlos, I hear.”

“Carlos, huh?”

Ava nodded again, not wanting to seem too eager. She felt that a woman like Darla Mitchell might delight in leading her on and then refusing at the last moment.

“I could talk to him and we might be able to work in some questions that would clear your name in the recent query about a drug deal that I saw in your file. I know you’re likely to be the one pinned with it whether you did it or not because you’re a frequent flyer down at the jail. Am I right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do what they said. I know who did, but I’m not a rat, either, so if you’re thinking you’ll get a freebie out of me on that, you can forget it. I like being alive even if I have to go to jail for something I didn’t do. Better that than the alternative.”

“There’s always the anonymous tip play. No one has to know you outed anyone.”

“But if they’re outed, I’m the first one they’re going to look for. I’m not giving names.”

“Did you have anything to do with these murders, DeeDee?”

“No, I told you that already. About ten times now.”

“Then prove it. Take the test.”

“Will you work in the stuff about the drug deal? Just so I can be cleared publicly.”

Several minutes later, Ray Benson left the office. His exiting manner was the polar opposite of Tommy Jenkins’. He wrung a worn, dirty ballcap in his hands, his steps were short, stuttery, and not in a straight line. His eyes darted up, down, side-to-side, and his face was tight as a drum as he hurried for the door.

Ava spoke with Bates. It took five minutes to work in the new questions. Like him or loathe him, Bates was good at his job. Efficient and thorough. He might have made a good federal agent if he were younger.

Ava ushered Darla Mitchell into the room, thanked her, and left again.

Metford and Santos met her at the table. “Well?” Metford asked.

“What?”

“The results. Did anyone pass or fail?” Santos urged.

“He wouldn’t tell me. He will give us all the results afterward.”

“How are we supposed to keep up with them until that happens?” Metford asked. “They’ll be in the wind within an hour or two, and we’ll be lucky if we see them again.”

“I know, but he’s running that part of the show. Told you he was despicable.”

“By my count, we got four to take the test and three refused,” Santos said. “It’s almost dark outside now. You think they’ll bring any more tonight?”

“Phone Carter and find out,” Ava said, moving to straighten up the files and notes she had accumulated over the last few hours. They needed to be put in some sort of order.

A few minutes passed and Bates’ door flung open hard enough to bang the wall loudly. DeeDee came out, red-faced, and stormed out the door flinging curses at everyone without slowing to aim at any one person.

Ava and Metford rushed to Bates’ office, fearing there might have been an altercation. The man sat chuckling behind the desk as he worked on marking Darla’s test on his report.

“What happened?” Ava asked.

“She said my questions were deliberately set up to make her look guilty, and she left in a huff. Ripped the cuff right off her arm and stood so fast she nearly pulled the machine to the floor. I barely got the waist lead off before she tried to rip the door off its hinges.” He chuckled again. “She sure seems guilty of something.”

“Did she pass or fail?” Metford asked.

“Oh,” Bates said ominously as he peered over his glasses. “She failed miserably, as did Ray Benson. If I were going to watch any of them, those two would be at the top of my list. But that’s up to you.”

“What were the other scores?” Ava asked.

Bates picked up the reports and flipped through them at a maddeningly slow pace. “Eddie Martinez’ test was inconclusive. He’s a sly little fellow, that one. And, surprisingly, Tommy Jenkins passed his. Every question was answered truthfully.” He handed the reports to Ava.

She took them. “That is shocking.” She and Metford stepped out and closed the door. “Martinez said he aced his test.”

“Well, I guess he didn’t study hard enough,” Metford said.

“Right? And now we have to figure out who will watch which suspect.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “Why does it always seem we’re short about a dozen agents?”

“If there were twelve more of us, there would be no cases left for anybody else to solve,” he quipped.

“If there were more of us, this case wouldn’t be so difficult. Okay, I need someone to definitely keep an eye on Jake Thompson, Ray Benson, and as much as it gripes me, Darla Mitchell.”

“Little, skinny DeeDee?”

“She failed. That means it’s likely she’s hiding something. Either she did something or she knows something. Either way, we need to watch her.”

Dane stood. “You got Benson on that list, right?”

“Indeed. He failed with flying colors,” Ava replied.

“I’ll take him,” Metford said.

Ava nodded. “I’ll talk to Carter and get him to put his people on Jake Thompson, Lisa Reynolds, and Bobby Whitfield. They refused the polygraph. I want us on the ones who failed. I have Mitchell and Martinez left.” She looked to Santos and Dane.

Santos held out her hand for the files. “I’ll take Lisa the Lush.”

Ava handed her the file. “It’s Lisa Reynolds, please and thank you. Professionalism here, people.”

Dane stepped up. “Guess that leaves me with Nee—, ahem, Eddie Martinez.” She grinned tightly as Ava handed her the folder.

“Metford has Ray Benson. Let’s get to it, folks. I’ll be here working, if you need me, call.”

A pulsing noise like ocean waves crashing in time with her heart woke Emily slowly. Confused about the sound, she opened her eyes. The world was unfocused like looking through badly adjusted binoculars. Where was the sound coming from, and why couldn’t she move her arms and legs?

Panic struck hard, and she bucked against something soft that had a sandpaper-like texture. Wool, she thought, but couldn’t be sure. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and something was around her ankles, but it was giving.

Tape. It was tape around her ankles, but not her wrists. She kicked wildly, forgetting about the rushing water sound for a moment. The tape tore loose from her ankles, and she was sure it had taken a scrim of flesh with it. She swung her legs and sat up on a loveseat. The world swam into focus as she worked her wrists furiously against the binding. Blood oozed warmly down her hands, but she didn’t care and she didn’t stop.

Suddenly, there was a voice breaking through the crashing waves of white noise in her ears. The room pulsed with the sound, and she knew something was very wrong with her. Something other than being bound.

A skinny little woman rushed in front of Emily, causing her to yelp in surprise. The woman shoved Emily back down onto her side and planted a knee painfully in her hip joint. Emily kicked, but with the woman’s full weight on her hip, pushing her deeper into the worn cushion, there was no real leverage. She was merely wasting energy. Something that was in short supply.

“Get off me!” she screamed. But it didn’t come out as a scream. Rather, it was a deflated, scratchy whine at best. Blood oozed from her busted top lip. The copper taste was bitter on her tongue. “What the hell did you do to me? Who are you? What do you—”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, take a breath, would you?” the woman said. “And for Pete’s sake, stop fighting. You’re only gonna hurt yourself.”

“Okay, okay. Just, please, get off. You’re hurting my hip.”

The woman slowly eased her weight off Emily. As soon as the woman was off and before she was stable on her feet, Emily threw herself forward, hitting the woman in the middle and crashing to the floor with her.

The string of curses the woman threw was punctuated with brutal and efficient movements that ended with Emily facedown on the floor, and the woman straddling her back. Emily screamed as the woman yanked up on her bound wrists.

“Now, stop!” she screamed loud enough to set Emily’s ears ringing.

Panting for air, Emily went limp. “Fine,” she said.

“Damn right it’s fine, missy. Nothing you can do about it anyway, so just behave before you get hurt worse. I ain’t trying to hurt you, but I won’t shy from it, if it needs to be done. Got it?”

Emily got it, all right. She got it loud and clear.

The smaller woman struggled to help Emily back to the loveseat. “Now look.” She pointed at the sofa cushions and then the threadbare rug on the floor. “Blood. You got blood on my stuff, missy. I gotta clean all that. If you’d just—”

“If I’d what? Just lie here and be good?”

“Yeah, exactly. Weren’t nobody hurting you.”

“I’m tied up. What the hell do you want?” She jerked her wrists to the side, making sure to smear more blood onto the cushion at her back. If she might die, she was going to leave as much of her DNA there as possible.

The woman sighed and ran a hand downward over her mouth and chin. “Girl, what were you doing way the hell out here? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away?”

“I don’t know where I am. I got lost in the woods, and this is just where I ended up.”

The woman nodded and shifted her weight from one foot to the other repeatedly while she curled her lips inward and bit down. She was a junkie, or maybe she was crazy. The strength she had was unbelievable for her size.

“Well, you shouldn’t have come here. Should have kept walking. Now, you’re in a pickle.” Her face melted into a mask of anger; she leaned forward at the waist so that her nose was two inches from Emily’s face. “And so are we,” she snarled.

Emily recoiled from the woman’s rank breath as it curled around her face like a toxic cloud. “Listen, I don’t know why you’ve got me—wait, did you say ‘so are we’? We, who? How many of you are there?”

“It’s just me and Grizz, idiot. You know, the guy who socked you in the face back in the woods? Yeah,” she laughed and bobbed her head wildly. “Just think, if you’d been a half a degree smarter, you would have run out of that greenhouse and straight back in the other direction. But no, you had to run right into us, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t like I meant to. And if you’re worried I’ll tell about the greenhouse, no worries. Who doesn’t smoke a little weed every now and then? Me and my friends all do it sometimes.” She forced a little laugh, but it felt stilted, and it split her lip open farther. She grimaced.

“That lip’s gonna hurt like hell for a while. Nose don’t look so good, either, but it probably won’t mess up your pretty looks much.” She turned her head away for a second and then turned back. “Thirsty?”

Emily wanted more than anything to taste a cool sip of water, but she didn’t trust the woman. “No.”

The woman’s eyebrows drew down in suspicion. “Lips are parched, you look dry as a bone, but you don’t want water?”

Fighting her instinct to beg for water, she shook her head. “Thanks,” she added, trying to seem as civil as possible. The last thing she needed was for the woman to take offense at something.

“Hungry?”

“No.” Emily’s thoughts raced. Was this a lucid moment in the woman’s thinking? Were the drugs wearing off? Or, kicking in?

“Not very needy, that’s for sure. Good thing.”

“I do need something, though.”

“What’s that? And don’t be asking for me to let you go, missy, because you won’t tell anybody about the greenhouse and whatnot, ’cause it won’t work. I can’t let you go.”

“Yeah, I got that. I need to pee. And my name is Emily.”

“Emily.”

“Yeah, Emily. And I really need to pee.” She squeezed her legs together.

“You can use our bathroom. Don’t reckon you got any germs worse than what we already have out here.” The woman laughed and helped Emily off the couch.

She pushed Emily ahead, through a doorway. The bedroom beyond was small, plain, and crowded with junk: clothes thrown everywhere, several boxes of different sizes, beer cans, cigarette packs, overflowing ashtrays, and tools. How did people live like that?

Emily leaned back against the woman’s pushing hands just enough to slow them down a bit. “I told you my name, what’s yours?”

“Lynx. Lynx is what everybody calls me.”

The bathroom doorway was smaller than the bedroom doorway, and there was no door on either. So much for privacy. The tiny round window over the toilet made Emily laugh. Had she really thought she might be able to go into the bathroom, close the door, untie her hands, and get out the window? Had she really thought it would be so simple?

“What’s funny, missy?” Lynx poked her knuckles into Emily’s lower back. “Think my house is comical?”

“No. I just realized something.” She stepped into the bathroom that was barely big enough for one person and turned to face Lynx.

“Yeah?”

“How am I going to wipe after I pee?” She focused on tears but didn’t know if she had enough moisture in her body to summon any.

“Wipe?” Lynx looked troubled and confused.

“Yeah, after I pee, I have to wipe. I’m a mess, but I don’t want to go around smelling like pee and maybe setting myself up for an infection.” There they were; the tears prickled at her eyeballs right on cue. All those drama classes hadn’t been for nothing, after all. “I’m humiliated to even ask, but could you clean me up…” She rolled her eyes down toward her womanhood. “…down there after I’m done?”

“Oh, that’s a big hell no, missy. No. Uh-uh.”

Pressing her thighs together tightly and imitating the toddler pee-pee dance, she let the tears fly. “Please. I don’t want to stink, and I don’t want another infection. I had one last year that took the skin off my—”

Lynx held up both hands. “Enough!” she yelled loudly. “I don’t want to hear another word. I’ll untie your hands, but if you get any funny ideas, I’ll hurt you. Do you understand me?”

Still sniffling and crying, Emily nodded and gave her a grateful expression. “Thank you. Thank you so much. My situation is bad enough, I already got blood on your couch and rug, I’d hate to make it all smell like pee, and in a few days, it would smell worse. You know I’ll have to go number two eventually.” She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She had never spoken of such intimate things with anyone before. Ever. And if she survived, she swore she never would again. She would do her best to put the whole incident in a tight little locked box and keep it in the deepest part of her mind where the shadows could keep it hidden forever.

“Stop. Just shut up.” Lynx worked at the knot.

Every few seconds, Emily would suck air through her teeth and press her thighs together again as if she might just urinate on herself at any second.

“Hold still, girl,” Lynx said loudly, yanking on the cord.

The biting cord loosened, tearing itself out of the partially dried wound it had made, and Emily smiled. It was the best feeling in the world. Better than getting to sleep late on a Saturday, better than buying her first car all on her own, better than sex with Tommy Tolliver a month ago.

“There. Now get to your business before Grizz gets back and has a cow because you’re untied.” Lynx pushed Emily again.

Emily let the force propel her forward a step, and she eyed the grungy toilet. Her gaze raced around looking for anything she could use for a weapon. The only thing she saw was the handle of a filthy plunger and it was half-broken. If it broke, she could use the sharp end… She stopped the thought because, no, she couldn’t. She couldn’t stab the woman unless she was under attack. And maybe not even then.

Emily faced Lynx with a shy look. “Are you…you going to…uh…” She motioned.

“Am I going to what? I’m going to stand right here, yeah. I heard plenty of peeing in my life, girl. Do it regularly myself. Get to it or I’m gonna tie you back up now.”

“Can you at least turn your head?”

“Jesus,” Lynx hissed and turned her head away. “Damn, I really need to clean out this—”

Emily tackled the smaller woman. The force drove her into the room three full steps until her body crashed into the side of a rickety tall chest-of-drawers. The thing looked ready to tumble down, but it was solid and heavy. It took the hit like a pro football player and stayed on its feet. The air whooshed out of Lynx, and Emily thought she felt a rib break. She hoped so, anyway.

As Lynx got stable on her feet and made eye contact, Emily shouldered into her, knocking her in the opposite direction and into a stack of cardboard boxes. Emily darted for the doorway. Ten steps from the spot to the front door, and she could be sprinting back down the mountain. If she could just make the woods, she could get out of sight before Lynx or the man could catch her.

But that daydream was shattered under the slight weight of Lynx pouncing her from behind. Lynx wrapped Emily up like a starfish, tangled her legs, and Emily went down like a cut tree.

Before she could even react, Lynx had her hands tied much tighter than before, and she cracked Emily’s head with an ashtray. Before the lights went out again, Emily saw the shrapnel from the ashtray glinting in the sunlight. It came down in a shower of sparkles and grey-black ash and twisted, orange cigarette butts.

What a way to die, she thought as she passed out.

Bates left shortly after Ava’s crew went out. Ava was glad to see him go and have the place to herself for a few minutes. Nothing like a little quiet time to be able to put the puzzle together a little better.

The wildman theory upset her, but it was even more upsetting when she couldn’t come up with a viable scenario in which she could completely dispel it. Why would someone kill three people randomly, in the same manner, in the same town?

“Serial killer,” she muttered under her breath. “Or, the Wildman of Acadia Forest,” she whispered even lower. God forbid anyone accidentally hear her utter those words. The tale had already spread like wildfire through a dry barn, and she didn’t want it spread any further.

She looked at all the evidence spread on the table as she paced the length. “What then?”

Again, all she could come up with was a serial killer was in Glencoe. And the most likely place for him, or her, to be hiding out was in Acadia Forest. Strangers were commonplace in the forest where the state park curled up and around that vast expanse of wilderness.

“If I were a serial killer looking for the perfect place to hide and curb my bloody appetites, Acadia Forest would be high on the list of perfection.” She made an effort to stop speaking aloud. Everything echoed in the gym, and anyone could walk in. She didn’t want the serial killer rumor spreading any more than she wanted the wildman rumor spreading.

Her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but answered on the second ring, anyway.

“Is this Agent James?” a woman asked.

“Yes, this is she,” Ava answered, trying to determine the owner of the voice.

“This is Agnes Bruner of Glencoe, sweetheart. I just wanted to call and let you know that I heard that group of activists ramping up for a confrontation with the McDavid boys again.”

“God, do you know where?”

“They were going to town. I’m at the campground. I was just resting at the picnic tables by the parking area when I heard that woman on the bullhorn revving everybody up. She said the McDavid crew did something to one of their little girls. Said she’s gone missing and is probably dead and that they should do something about it because you’re not. Is that true?”

“No, ma’am. How long ago did they leave?”

“A bus and a truck left out about two minutes ago. I don’t want anybody else hurt, so I called you. I got your number from Sheriff Carter after you came in on the Harris case. I hope that’s all right.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the call.”

“Sure thing—”

Ava disconnected the call and quickly dialed Sheriff Carter followed by her team. She walked toward the door and it flew open. Stopping in shock, Ava saw a group of five enter the gym. Two women and three men.

“You the FBI?” one man asked.

“Yes, sir.” She steeled herself for anything at that point. She didn’t recognize any of them.

“We’re concerned residents here. We want to know what’s going on in Glencoe. There’s not been anything like this to happen here ever, and now, we got a missing girl, two murdered men, and a couple mauled to death by two rampaging bears?”

“I told you Grandma wasn’t making up the story about the wildman,” a portly woman said, shaking a finger at the man.

“It’s not the wildman, Sherry,” another man said.

“No, it’s a serial killer,” the other woman said.

“No, it’s not a damn serial killer, Liz. Just shut up for five minutes, would you?” the first man retorted. “Or, is it?” he asked Ava directly. “You tell us what’s going on because we’ve heard these rumors and accusations flying around like a swarm of gnats on a humid summer evening. The townspeople are going to be turning on each other like rabid dogs if something isn’t settled soon.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we don’t know exactly what’s going on. I will tell you that there is no wild man roaming the woods and killing people. The man of that story is an urban legend. That’s all, and I wish you would all stop spreading it around. It causes panic and chaos when you spread things that aren’t true, and makes it difficult to do our job.”

Her phone began to ring again. It was another number she didn’t recognize. Pressing the button, she put it to her ear and turned away from the group. It was another resident calling in to ask questions and offer panicked accusations. While she spoke, the line beeped with an incoming call. Checking the number, Ava wondered what was going on. It was another unknown number.

The group in front of her grew as more people entered the gym. Bewildered, she hung up the phone, put it in her pocket, and held up her hands. “Everybody settle down!” she yelled over top of the din.

Everybody went silent and looked to her.

“Thank you. Now, I appreciate that you’re all concerned and scared. That’s why you should go home and lock your doors until we get this thing figured out. And don’t call to offer up your ex as a suspect. Or a friend you’ve had a falling out with, or anyone for that matter, unless you have something solid we can investigate. We need the phone lines for interdepartmental communications right now. There’s a lot going on behind the scenes that cannot be discussed, but rest assured that we are working together with Sheriff Carter, the forest rangers, and others to find a suspect as soon as possible. We can’t do that if we’re dealing with this.” She waved her hands to indicate the still-growing crowd pushing in through the doors. “Now, I need you all to leave. I need to get to town. I have work to do. Please, go home, and you’ll be notified of any and every development.” She wouldn’t call it an outright lie, but it certainly was a stretch of the truth. A long, hard stretch.

The crowd dispersed, but they let her know how displeased they were, and some still shouted names as their friends pushed them to get in their cars and clear out.

Officer Jenkins pulled up and whooped his siren at the crowd in the parking lot. “Come on, people, go home. You’re stalling our work, and it’s going to become obstruction of justice if I continue to see some of you. Liz, Sherry, Don, I’m talking to you three specifically,” he said over the loudspeaker.

Ava hurried toward his cruiser and got in the passenger side.

“Where’s the confrontation in town? Did you see?” Ava asked.

“No, but Parker just came over the radio as I pulled in here. She said it looks like the activists are down at the diner again. And guess who’ll be there soon?”

“The McDavid crew,” Ava said heavily.

“Makes you think back to the old Coca-Cola jingle, don’t it?” He grinned as he did a U-turn in the middle of the road.

“Huh?” Ava asked, confused. “Nothing about this makes me think of soda.”

He laughed harder. “I’d like to give the world a Coke, and—”

“Oh,” Ava said, unable to keep from smiling. “That’s really random, Jenkins. Really random.”

“Yeah, gotta do something to keep this crap from driving me mad. All this fighting and violence in this little town just makes me kinda sick to my stomach.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Sure enough, the activists were in front of the diner, and the McDavid white work trucks were pulling in at the same time Ava and Jenkins arrived.

The McDavid crew could have driven on by and avoided the whole confrontation, but they didn’t. The trucks pulled in, and the men flooded out. Either they were eager to prove they were innocent about the girl, they wanted revenge because they thought the activists killed Mercer, or their tempers were worn too thin and they were craving the altercation.

Three cruisers, including Jenkins’, flipped on the lights and sirens. Jenkins radioed Ranger Alcott and told him to get down there with as many rangers as he could to help. At the other side of the mob, Metford and Santos moved into position to block a couple of the McDavid crew. The others simply pushed by them as the activists flanked the sheriff and his people.

An eruption of violence in the center pushed everyone back. Carter, dodging bodies and wide punches, moved to his Blazer. He shouted into the loudspeaker that he was going to toss riotbusters and for law enforcement to be ready to collar whoever they could as they fled.

“Riotbusters? Nice,” Ava said.

“We’re not completely unprepared, but we’ve never used the smoke bombs before!” Jenkins yelled over the noise.

Carter’s arm arched up and over his head. The plume of smoke trailed, swirling and hanging heavy in the air as he backed away, poised to throw another into the uprising.

Ava trotted backward to avoid the choking smoke. “Zip ties, Jenkins?” She held out a hand.

“How many?” He fumbled in the cruiser.

“How many you got? Handful,” she said, spotting the first runner. She snagged the ties and bolted for the man, tackling him to the ground and binding his hands before he could resist much. A second man ran in their direction, his face covered as he coughed into his arm. Ava couldn’t get out of the way quick enough, and he tripped over her, knocking them both to the grass. She rolled onto his back with her knee and whipped the tie around one of his wrists, missing the other entirely. She jerked his other arm, and barely got the tie on it before he was on his feet again. She yelled for him to stop, but he was gone, and more were fleeing the smoke.

After twenty minutes of pure violent chaos, the cloud of smoke had dispersed enough for Ava to see the aftermath of the latest riot. Nine people were lying on the ground coughing, gagging, and bleeding. That would be nine definite hospital visits. Twelve more would probably need some moderate patching-up by professionals, and the whole group of twenty or more who were on their feet would be feeling the repercussions of their brawls for at least a week.

Anger settled in her chest, and she wanted to arrest every single person involved, throw them all in one large cell together, and tell them to get it out of their systems. If they were so intent on trying to kill one another, let them do it where they wouldn’t be eating up her time; time she needed to be finding a killer, not babysitting the masses of bickering brats they had become.

It took a total of five hours of work to sort out who needed to go to the hospital, be triaged, go to be patched, get oxygen, and who to arrest, but it was finally over as the evening closed on yet another day of what felt like a fruitless endeavor.

“Hey, you okay?” Metford asked as they left the scene.

“Just peachy. You?”

“Got a few minor war wounds, but I’ll survive. What’s our next move?”

“Did everyone find their marks to follow before this fight broke out?”

“Nope. Ray Benson was in the bar down the road, and when I went in a few minutes later, he was nowhere to be found. I don’t know if he realized I was following him and went out a back way or what. That’s when the call came in about this uncaged MMA fight. At least we didn’t have to pay to get in, right?”

Though his usual impish charm oozed, Ava wasn’t in the laughing mood. “If you don’t need medical, try to run him down again and find out what he’s up to. He was awfully nervous at the interview, I noticed.”

“He was so twitchy that I think it drew everyone’s attention. If I don’t miss my guess, he’s somewhere getting a fix. Probably the outskirts of town, in that direction.” He turned and pointed in the opposite direction of Acadia Forest.

“Be careful, and call if you find out anything.”

“Want me to tell Dane and Santos to find their marks again? They’re both still over with the rangers and Carter.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’m going to make some calls. I’ll be at the gym.”

Ava walked back to the gym, not in any hurry to get back. She could think when she was alone and it was quiet. Since the upset in town, most people were tucked back into their homes, hopefully, for the night. The air was warm, crickets chirruped, and the slow drone of occasional, distant vehicles was a nice ambiance for puzzling out what might be going on.

Opening the gym door, Ava paused and looked around. The door had been unlocked and the place unattended while they were out.

“Hello?” she called. The echo of her voice was the only reply.

She stepped inside. Suddenly, every shadowy corner, every stack of boxes, and every door seemed threatening. Jason Ellis had hidden in plain sight, and she still hadn’t seen him until it was too late. She didn’t want to make that kind of mistake again. It might cost her life next time.

With her heart thudding hard and slow, she drew her gun. With the gun by her side, she braved the corners and possible hiding spots for an intruder. Checking the small office last, she sighed with relief and returned her gun to the holster.

It amazed her that no one had been in while they were gone. Nothing had been moved, and even the loose paperwork lay exactly as it had when she left.

“Small towns,” she said, smiling.

Her phone rang, and she dropped the stack of papers and files she had just picked up. They fluttered out in front of her shins and settled on the floor in a delicate array of chaos.

She grabbed her phone, angry more at herself than at the disturbance, but not happy with either.

“James,” she barked into the phone.

“Ava, I just arrested Benson. He wasn’t out buying a fix, he was selling to some kid from out of town,” Metford said in a breathless rush. “I’m bringing him in now, and he’s up in the clouds.”

“Bring him on in. I’m here, but no one else is. Carter and his people are still tied up with the aftermath of the fight earlier.”

“He’s pretty docile. Now, anyway. After I chased him for a half-mile and wrestled with him for five minutes straight just to get him on the ground and cuff him.”

“How long until you’re here?”

“Ten minutes. I’m driving now.”

“See you in ten.”

Ava hung up and scooped the papers back into her hands, being careful not to rumple them too badly. Her gut had been right. Benson was dirty as they came; he was just average with hiding it. Being a junkie at times like that had its advantages because when a junkie gets the twitches, everyone assumes he’s jonesing for another fix, and that’s all. It helps mask guilt. But polygraphs helped weed that sort of thing out. Most of the time.

Now that Ray “Spooky” Benson had been picked up on drug charges, they could question him again over the same topics he failed on the polygraph. Maybe she would be able to get something useful from him. When a person is high, they often say things before they think.

“Especially if they’re upset and the questions and accusations are flying fast and hard,” she said, putting the papers aside to straighten later.

Emily remained quiet and still when she awoke the second time in the nasty little cabin. She had been put on the loveseat again with her face toward the back cushions and her knees bent. Her feet stuck out over the edge of the seat. Someone had put tape on her ankles again, and something else. She didn’t dare move to see what it was while there was still daylight and the couple was still moving about.

Emily listened, keeping her eyes closed and her respirations even. Anyone seeing her from behind or above would think she was resting peacefully. Never mind that she had just been knocked out for the second time in several hours.

The side of her head thundered with pain every time her heart would beat. The woman had probably given her a concussion with the ashtray, but she couldn’t worry about that. She had to figure out how to get away from them before they killed her.

Or worse, she thought.

Several times, she had felt the man stand behind her while she lay on the sofa pretending to be asleep. Once, his sour breath had nearly gagged her, and she wasn’t sure how she had held it together, but she had. She guessed a person could persevere through a lot when it came right down to it.

Another time, only a few minutes prior, Lynx had gone to the toilet, leaving the man and Emily alone. He had hovered over her again. His flannel shirttail had brushed against her thigh, sending a shiver that she repressed. Then, his large, rough hand was on her thigh and sliding toward her butt. Still, she breathed evenly, kept her eyes softly shut, and pretended. Pretended she was anywhere but there. Anywhere but where the dirty, big man with foul breath was handling her, petting her like she was some prized possession. She didn’t dare think too hard about what that sneaky caress meant. She knew. All women know.

When Lynx stepped into the bedroom, the floor creaked, and the man jerked away his hand and stood.

Thank God for the small things, Emily thought. And Lynx surely was a small thing. She had almost smiled at that, but swept away the feeling immediately.

When Lynx questioned him, Grizz said he was only checking.

“Checking what? Her panty size?”

“Don’t be that way, Marlene. You know I’d never—”

“Yeah, just like you never slept with my cousin two years ago. I haven’t forgotten how dirty rotten you are to the core, Travis Granger. You get away from her, and if I catch your filthy hand on her again, I’ll cut it off myself!”

The argument had gone on for what seemed like an hour, and then Lynx, or rather, Marlene, had checked Emily again. Satisfied that the girl was asleep, Marlene and Travis had a quickie make-up sex session.

It crossed Emily’s mind to try escaping then, but she knew they’d see her and she’d not get far. She hadn’t wanted to get knocked out again, either. She had already decided that twice was enough for anyone’s lifetime. Especially hers.

It only took them an hour to fall into deep, snoring slumber after the make-up session. That’s when Emily really went to work on getting her feet loose. The tape tore free easily, but the other thing was cloth and it wouldn’t tear.

She bent backward, hanging precariously off the edge of the sofa, until her fingers felt the binding at her ankles. They brushed it, but couldn’t get hold of it. She stretched a bit farther, straining her fatigued leg muscles until great knotted cramps took hold of the backs of her thighs and her left calf. The cramps threatened to break bones, but she bit back against the pain and curled her fingers under the cloth knot.

The cramps wouldn’t let go, and neither would she. She’d rather die trying to escape rather than die because she didn’t try at all. Her fingers worked swiftly at the knot, and within three minutes, the cloth slid free.

Emily immediately threw her body straight and breathed deeply to alleviate the worst of the cramps. Her eyes watered, and she was careful not to sniffle as she lay there praying that she’d be able to walk when she tried.

Travis Granger, she thought. Travis Granger, dirty rotten to the core, she repeated silently, wanting to remember the name.

Minutes later, she pushed up and gingerly placed her feet on the floor. Had the floor creaked when he was behind her? When she and Lynx had fought? She couldn’t recall. Sending up another silent prayer, she applied pressure, and there was no noise. Maybe something in the cabin was stable. God knew the owners weren’t, and neither was the floor in the bedroom or bathroom.

After several tests of her weight, Emily stood. The smile spread over her face. It felt good to be able to stand up. There was no electricity in the cabin, and there was only one taper candle flickering in the bedroom. That’s where Emily’s eyes focused. She watched the flame splash undulating, amber light against the dark wood wall above the bed while the cramps in her thighs eased. The sound of crickets and owls were the only sounds besides Travis and Marlene’s snoring. There wasn’t much to cover her movements if she knocked into furniture or tripped in the dark. And if she tripped, her hands were still behind her. There was no way she could catch herself. It would be a huge sound in the relative quietude of the cabin.

She tiptoed to the front door. It felt like it took an hour as she barely moved her feet. The continuous string of prayers didn’t do much good. When she reached the door and turned around so she could reach the knob, her hands found it locked with a padlock. She pulled down on it to make sure it was really locked, and then sent up a silent tirade of curses.

Frantically looking for any other way out, she saw a window with a moth-eaten piece of fabric that might have been a sheet at one time. The shimmer of moonlight against the dirty glass was faint, but it was there. Moving with the same care as before, she made her way to the window, sidling behind a ratty recliner, and ducked her head under the fabric. Dust billowed down over her face, and she inhaled. Instantly, the sting of an impending sneeze blossomed brightly in her nose. Without thinking about it, she turned and pressed her face into the top of the recliner. Pain raced from her busted lip, broken nose, and bruised eye all the way to the top of her head where it meshed with the pain from the whack Lynx had given her.

The world yawed to one side, and she widened her stance to keep balanced. For one awful moment, she was sure she would topple onto the little table she knew was there. Maybe three minutes or maybe ten later, she was able to stand without support from the rancid chair. She wished her hands were free, but she didn’t want to take the time to search out a knife and then try to cut the cord loose. If she slipped up and cut her wrist, it would be all over. She would either die at the hands of the Grangers or bleed out somewhere. It wasn’t beyond her that she was in terrible shape. It wouldn’t take much to finish her.

Backing to the window, she pressed her splayed fingers against the bottom and lifted onto her tiptoes again. The squeal of wood-on-wood was horrendously loud, and she cringed, freezing into place and expecting one of the Grangers to come hurdling at her through the darkness.

But nothing happened. They snored.

She timed the next push with Travis’ snore, and the wood screamed. Again, they didn’t seem to hear it. Working that way for nearly a half-hour, there was finally enough of a gap that she could roll out and onto the ground. Was there anything out there that could cut or stab her? She didn’t know. The grass had all been tall, and she hadn’t seen that side of the cabin at all. Not even from inside.

She lifted one leg to the sill and let it dangle outside. The ground wasn’t close. She couldn’t even feel the tall grass. How high was the window? Did it really matter?

Straddling the sill, she took a deep breath, knowing it was going to hurt, and that she couldn’t scream even if she broke a bone or landed on something that cut or stabbed her. Not if she wanted to get away from the cabin. And she did. More than anything in the world.

The moon had gone behind clouds. Without even that dim light, she could see nothing without straining her eyes. She looked down, saw where her foot was outside, and looked beyond it. Giving her eyes a minute to adjust to the complete lack of light, she found that she could make out the bent top of the grass beyond the shadow of the cabin. The shadow was only a fraction darker than the rest of the outside world, but it was there. She just had to concentrate to see it.

Ten feet, tops, she told herself. Ten feet down, and then you’re free.

Taking another deep breath, she listened for Travis’ loud snores, and rolled out the window so the noise would be masked. Tensing, she clamped her teeth together and squeezed her eyes tight.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she didn’t scream. She thought her right shoulder was dislocated, but that was okay. She was out of the cabin, and that’s what mattered. After rolling around to find her best footing, she pushed painfully to her feet again and started walking.

If being able to stand had felt good, she decided that being able to walk, even injured and still partially bound, felt divine. There was no sense of direction at all. She had no idea which way she was headed, and she didn’t care. As long as it was away from the Grangers and would get her off the mountain, it was good enough.

After several yards, Emily felt the world open up around her, and she knew she was in an open field. The moon peeked out from the side of a dark cloud, and Emily didn’t waste time with her next decision. She ran. She ran toward the woods a distance ahead. She ran until she hit a tree and spun wildly, painfully to the side and went splay-legged on the ground. That time, she yelped. It was fine. She was too far from the cabin to be heard.

Several times, she walked straight into trees, limbs, bushes, and she fell more than she would ever admit to anyone, but she kept moving. One foot in front of the other, even if it wasn’t far in front, she still forced her muscles to move.

When she saw light glowing through the trees ahead, and heard soft country music, she stopped. Panic nearly made her turn and run the other way. What if it was more people like the Grangers? Who else would be in the woods so far out?

She didn’t have the strength to run away, and she couldn’t stop moving. If she did, she feared she might collapse completely. Moving slowly and quietly closer to the light and music, she held her breath and looked around for anyone.

“Hey,” a man said loudly. “Boys, get out here.”

The alarm in his voice sent Emily backward. Panic curled its claws deep into her brain. They were with the Grangers. She’d been caught. They would do terrible things to her and take her back to that awful cabin.

Her heart raced, her vision swam, and pain pulsed through her entire body. All she could do was stagger backward as men’s voices rushed at her. She backed into a tree, and three men came into view.

“Whoa, lady, what the hell happened to you?” one man asked. He held out his hands in a see-I’m-harmless manner, and moved toward her slowly.

“Jesus, Delmar, somebody’s had her tied up,” another said.

Emily realized they weren’t with the Grangers, nor were they like them. Tears, giant tears, burst from her eyes, and her knees went out from under her. She was saved. She had found good men. Big, strong men, who would help her; who would protect her from the Grangers and get her off the mountain.

“Easy, easy,” the man said, stretching his arm out so that her head landed softly in the bend of his elbow.

He eased her to the ground and took off the shirt to lay under her head. “I’m going to get that rope off your wrists, okay? Just hold on and be still.”

He cut the rope, and Emily screamed. The pain was remarkably worse than she ever imagined as her arms tried to go back to their proper position. The muscles screamed along with her, and she rolled like she was on fire. The big man called Delmar hefted her effortlessly into a sitting position.

“How long you been tied up, ma’am?” His voice was deep, calming.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Cabin up the mountain. Grangers. Get me off the mountain. Please.” She went limp, knowing she was going to be okay. Delmar would see to it.

“She’s one of them activists,” a man farther away said. “She’s wearing their shirt.” He pushed his way forward and glared down at her.

The tears kept flowing. She didn’t have the strength to argue with him or even to defend herself.

“Drop it, Frenchie. She’s hurt bad. She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Delmar said, his muscles tightening.

“Nothing except aid and abet the ones who killed Daryl!” the man yelled, his face red with temper. “You already forget how he got murdered up here? That how loyal you are?” He leaned toward Emily threateningly.

Delmar relaxed the arm supporting her and gave Frenchie a shove with the other hand. “I said, you leave her alone. She’s in bad shape, and she didn’t have nothing to do with Daryl’s death. Are you blind or just stupid?” He stood protectively in front of Emily.

They were the loggers, and something terrible had happened between them and the UP group. Emily knew there had been high tensions, but not a murder. “I didn’t hurt anyone,” she rasped.

“You get all them cuts and bruises from fighting with Daryl when you and whoever was with you attacked him up here?!” Frenchie yelled, kicking dirt and rock toward her face as Delmar held him back.

“Don’t make me put you on your ass, Frenchie. You know I will,” Delmar warned. His voice never rose to a yell, but it was commanding all the same.

“Yeah?” Frenchie said, sticking out his chin defiantly. “Give it your best shot there, hoss.”

Before the last word was complete, Frenchie was scuttling backward, arms pinwheeling against air, and then he was on the ground looking dazed. Delmar shot forward and grabbed a handful of Frenchie’s shirt, dragged him close, and said, “You’re done. Get your shit and get home. Don’t come back.” He flung the man backward and walked back to Emily.

“Tell him, girl!” Frenchie yelled. “Tell him how you hate us and everything we do! Tell him how all of you said you’d rather see us dead than have us cut another tree up here!” He yelled so loud his voice cracked.

Delmar helped her to her feet, and she used him for support. “It’s true that I detest your industry and what impact it has on wildlife everywhere, but I’d never hurt anyone.”

Another man moved to Frenchie and shook his head at the man. “Let it go, man. She didn’t get tied up if she was up here attacking Daryl. Besides, the cops and the FBI said it looked like only one person, and in case you didn’t notice, she’s a buck-ten at best. Daryl would have eaten her for breakfast.”

“And it looks like somebody tried,” Frenchie said. He scowled at her and spit on the ground as he stomped past. The other men had formed a human shield to block him from making a grab at her.

“Come on,” Delmar said. “Can you walk?”

She tried, but her knees buckled. “I’m sorry. It feels like I don’t have any muscles in my legs,” she said, clinging to his arm.

He bent and scooped her up like a child and walked to the nearest truck. A man opened the door, and Delmar put her in the seat. “Get me one of them blankets out of the camper.”

A man returned and handed him the blanket, a bottle of water, and a wet cloth. “For her face, or hands, or whatever,” he muttered nervously. “We’re coming with you. You taking her to the hospital?”

“No, you damn fool. They won’t be able to even see her for hours because of the oversized barroom brawl the rest of the crew had with her group earlier. I’m taking her to the gym where the FBI set up a command center or whatever it is. They can get her help quicker than the hospital in town.”

He turned and offered her the cloth. She held it but didn’t press it to her lip or face or head. They hurt too much, and she was beyond worrying about germs. He opened the water, and she drank as he unfolded the blanket over her legs.

It was going to be okay. She was safe at last.

Benson had been fidgety before, but when Metford brought him in for the second interview, he was practically jumping out of his skin and making little noises that weren’t words or yelps or hiccups. They were small, involuntary grunts that punctuated every few words when he spoke, and happened in time with his shoulders jerking upward every few seconds.

Ava looked at Metford, befuddled. How were they supposed to keep questioning him when he was like that? It was driving Ava nuts. She kept stopping in the middle of questions just to keep from walking away and tossing in the towel until he sobered up. Then, she remembered that when people are high, if they get stressed, they talk, and they talk a lot without the privilege of their internal editor that usually kept them from saying things that might get them in trouble.

“Ray, did you have anything to do with Daryl Mercer’s death?” she asked.

“No, no, I didn’t…have noth—”

“What about Alex Ramirez? You do something to him? Huh? Maybe while you were strung out on drugs like you are now, and you just forgot, or thought it was a dream?”

His eyes went wide. He shook his head, and his hair fell over his forehead. “No, no, I didn—”

“That’s it, isn’t it, Ray? You were high, and you thought it was a dream. Happens all the time. Come on, tell me what you did to those men.”

“I’m trying,” he stuttered. Red-faced and sweating, he lifted a trembling hand to mop the hair off his brow. “I didn’t even know—”

“Right, you didn’t even know them, did you? No, you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t know those two murdered men, Ray. What was I thinking?” She chuckled and leaned her arms on the table.

His gaze darted from her to Metford, and he visibly relaxed a bit. He shook his head. “I don’t know, but you got the wrong—”

“Yeah, I know. The wrong guy, Ray. Hey, we’re just human, you know. We mess up, too.” She glanced at Metford. “A lot, actually. Right, Metford?”

“Yeah, sure. We mess up all the time. We just have the protection of the FBI to help us out.” He nodded solemnly at Ava.

She returned the gesture in like. “So, where’s Emily, Ray?”

“Abigail? My sometimes girlfriend?”

He stuttered until the question took him fifteen seconds to respond. Her tactic was working beautifully. Almost textbook perfect.

“You have a girlfriend, Ray?”

He nodded shyly and then shook his head. “Sometimes we hang out.” The stutter cleared minutely.

“That’s great. Everybody needs a pal. Somebody they’re comfortable with, and that they can trust. That’s nice, Ray. I’m happy for you. Looks like that should be enough reason to get you to straighten up and lay off the drugs, though.” She feigned a sad face.

“I will. Someday. I just can’t right now.” The stutter faded faster.

“I bet she’d like it if you did. Get clean, get a real job, buy a little house out here in Glencoe, and maybe someday raise a little family.”

“The American Dream, my man,” Metford said. “White picket fence and two-point-five kids. A dog named Fido. Frisbee in the front yard.” He gestured as if tossing a Frisbee.

Ray chuckled once, and bit back on the sound as his eyes darted back to Ava. “Sounds like a real nice life.”

“Yeah. I bet Emily had ideas about a real nice life, too. She’s young, pretty, active, and I bet she’d make a great wife someday. What do you think?”

His brow furrowed. “Who’s Emily? I don’t know an Emily. Just Abigail.”

“That’s right. You knew Daryl Mercer and Alex Ramirez. That’s what you said, right?” She smiled easily. A little too easily, and it made her feel bad that she could be so deceitful so easily.

He shook his head.

“You knew the Harrises, didn’t you? Laura and David? They were killed, too, but a couple of raging bears did that. Nasty business, that was.” She pulled a disgusted expression and shook her head.

Ray’s face puckered, and the color flushed out of his skin within a matter of seconds. His eyes bugged out.

“You seizing, man?” Metford asked, reaching for Ray.

“I’m gonna be…” He gagged and covered his mouth with a hand.

“Trashcan, Metford.” Ava motioned wildly to his left.

Metford grabbed the trashcan and spun around just in time to keep Ray from hurling on the floor and his feet.

“Oh, God,” Metford moaned, backing away from Ray with his arms held high. “Jeez, Ray, that’s disgusting, man.”

Ava covered her mouth and turned sideways in the chair, averting her eyes. Her tactic was working, and she couldn’t afford to let a little puke stand in the way of whatever she was about to learn from him.

He set the can down between his feet and heaved a few deep breaths before dragging the back of his hand over his lips and chin. Ava’s stomach rolled. She was dangerously close to losing the last thing she had eaten.

Finally, Ray was done being sick, but his color didn’t improve. Sweat poured down his face and neck, and he trembled worse than before. “Water?” he asked.

Metford got him a bottle and handed it to him.

“Were you friends with the Harrises?” Ava asked in the same tone as before, and as if he hadn’t just been violently sick in front of her.

“No. I’d seen them around. Same as everybody else.” His bottom lip curled and quivered, then his chin started. His eyes narrowed, and his brows arched. He opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out. He cried. He wiped at the tears, but it was big sobs; bigger than he could tame.

Ava crossed her arms and sat back to give Metford a knowing nod.

“What’s going on with you, Ray? I’ve seen junkies get arrested while they’re high. I’ve seen things you can’t imagine, but you’re acting all sorts of strange right now. You know what that tells me?”

He pulled hard on the reins, but the waterworks didn’t shut off. His breath hitched and shook him in his seat. “What?”

“That you’re hiding something very big, and it’s tearing you apart. You’re a good man. You have your faults, but deep down, you’re good, and you have a conscience. Am I right?”

The hitching turned into sobs again. “Yeah.” His voice was high and whiney like a child’s.

“Then why do you keep this secret? Whatever it is, it would be easier just to let it out, get it off your chest, and more importantly, off your conscience. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to lay your head down and sleep without the guilt gnawing at your mind all night long?”

He leaned forward and heaved into the trash again. Metford looked about to join him.

“I sold them the drugs,” Ray said. His voice echoed from the can, and he heaved again.

“Sold them the drugs? Who, Ray? The Harrises?” His words had come out of left field and blindsided her. It was not what she expected to hear from him.

“No, the Grangers,” he wailed, lowering his head again.

Ava wrote the name on paper. “Who are the Grangers, Ray? Are they dead, too?”

He hoisted himself to lean limply on the table and shook his head. “No. Least I don’t think so. The bears that killed the Harrises were their fault, though.” His face crinkled again, but no tears came. “They were my fault because I sold them the drugs they shot the bears with. Oh, God.” The last word was stretched, long, and sorrowful. It was filled with a lifetime of regret.

Ava wrote again. “Ray, you have to straighten up and tell me what you’re talking about here. You sold someone drugs and they shot the drugs into two wild black bears? Is that what you’re telling me?”

When he looked at her again, he seemed hollow. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” The stutter was gone. “I sold the Grangers some Special K and some Philly dope. I swear, I didn’t know what they were going to do with it.”

“Who are the Grangers, Ray? What are their names, and where do they live? We need to have someone check on them. You sold them some very dangerous drugs. You know that, right?”

He nodded. “Travis and Marlene. Everybody who knows them calls them Grizz and Lynx because they’re wild-natured. Daredevils. Rebels.”

“And they use drugs that can be lethal if they’re not handled properly,” Ava finished, biting back her anger at the situation.

“They told me afterwards that they were going to mix it up and shoot a couple of bears with their tranq gun. They bought it from some vet down in North Carolina this past fall.”

Ava’s jaw nearly dropped. “Why would they pay so much for drugs just to shoot it into bears? I don’t understand any of this. Are you sure it wasn’t a dream you had while you were—”

“No,” he said sternly. “It wasn’t a dream. I sold them the shit, and they pumped it into those bears that killed the Harrises and tore up the town. I’m trying to tell you that the Harrises are on me. Their blood is on my hands.” He held his hands out, palms up, for inspection.

All Ava saw was a slug trail of the yuck he’d wiped off his mouth after his last discussion with the trashcan. She closed her eyes and held down her stomach.

“Where did you even get hold of ketamine and xylazine, Ray? Was it one of the veterinarians here in town? A pharmacist? A doctor? Where?”

“No, I—”

They all spun to face the door when it flew open with force and banged the cinderblock wall.

“I got an injured girl here,” Delmar Wilson bellowed as he practically carried her inside.

Metford and Ava rushed to help them. Three other men came in behind Delmar and the girl. Metford grabbed a desk chair, and Ava helped Delmar get the girl in it. She looked like she’d been in a bad wreck.

“She needs a doctor,” Delmar said.

“Ma’am? Can you tell me your name and what happened to you?” Ava eyed the men suspiciously. She looked at the girl’s clothes and recognized the shirt and knew a split-second before she spoke that she was the missing girl from the UP group.

“Emily Larson,” the girl said in a thin, raspy voice. “My name is Emily Larson, and two people knocked me out and tied me up. I don’t know how long I was up there, but I think only a day.”

“You’ve been missing for days now, Emily. Where were you? Do you know where the people had you?” Ava wanted to assure her, comfort her with a hand on the shoulder, or even a light hug, but the injuries were so severe, she didn’t dare for fear of furthering her obvious pain.

“Granger. That’s what she called him. Travis Granger. Dirty rotten to the core. That’s what she said to him, and he was, but so was she.”

Ray whimpered. Ava glanced at him. He covered his mouth with one hand and stared at the bloodied and bruised girl with something akin to horror on his face.

“What was her name, do you know?” Ava kept her voice soft and soothing against the bite of the cold steel of fury that built in her chest.

“Marlene. They called each other stupid animal names. Grizz and Lynxie.”

Ray’s whimper turned into a long moan as he clamped his hand tighter over his mouth.

“Metford, will you take Mr. Benson to the jail now? Inform Carter what’s going on. Call him. I don’t care what he’s busy with, someone from the department needs to get here yesterday.”

“On it,” Metford said, hauling Ray from the seat and guiding him toward the door.

“Emily, do you know that man?” Ava pointed to Ray and kept her voice low.

“No, should I?”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure. Can you sit here while I talk with the men who brought you in? Will you be okay for five minutes?”

“You’re not leaving me in here alone, are you?” Emily’s face was an open mask of fear. “What if they came looking for me?” She pushed to stand up, and the wheels on the chair flew backward.

Ava grabbed for Emily’s arms, but they slipped through her hands. Delmar put an arm behind the girl and put the other over her midsection to hook her opposite hip as he followed her descent to the floor. It was the most graceful save Ava had seen in her life. Emily’s neck was expertly cradled in the curve of his elbow as he went to one knee supporting her weight with his other hand at her hip so that she didn’t sustain an injury. The scene looked like a loving father whose oddly large child had fallen asleep on the sofa being laid into her own bed without waking her.

No matter what she had seen or been through, Ava realized that people could still surprise her in a good way.

They got her settled back into the chair and assured her that she would not be left alone.

“There are things that have to happen now, Emily. It’s not going to be easy, but it is necessary. I need to take their statements and make some phone calls, but I’ll be right over here. You’ll even be able to listen in on the conversations, if you want.” She smiled at the girl, and her heart twisted. How old was she? Twenty? Couldn’t be more. And she had been brutalized by someone called Grizz. No wonder she was panicked and terrified.

Santos entered the gym on the run. “I’m here, Ava. Dane’s on her way, too.”

“Can you stay with her while I get these statements and make calls?”

“Absolutely.” She slowed to a walk and smiled at Emily. “You call for EMTs yet?”

“This just happened, so, no.”

Santos had her phone out. “On it. Local hospital is packed; I’ll have them take her north to whichever hospital is next on the route.”

“That’s fine. Just stay with her. The tests need to be done properly.” Ava emphasized the last word.

“Got it, boss.”

Ava walked into the interview room at the Glencoe Police Department expecting to see Ray Benson in the same shape he’d been in the day before when Metford brought him to the gym, but he wasn’t in the same shape. Not at all.

Ray sat composed and almost stoic as she took her seat. There were no tremors shaking his limbs, his gaze didn’t flit from one thing to another without ceasing, and he looked like he had showered, which was great.

“Mr. Benson,” she said, moving her notepad off the file.

“Agent,” he replied.

“Mr. Benson, we have to talk.”

“Then call me Ray, please. What do you want to talk about? If it’s that girl, I don’t know anything about her or what happened to her.”

“Yeah, Ray, she’s part of what we need to discuss, but so are the other deaths. You need to finish telling me about the drugs and the bears and the Grangers. So much, Ray. You have to make me understand what happened, how it happened, and where.”

He recounted his story about the ketamine, xylazine, the Grangers, the tranq gun, the bears, and the Harrises. His voice shook as he took responsibility for their deaths. That’s what had changed. He was resigned. He had accepted that he had caused the death of those two innocent people.

But had he? He might have facilitated it, helped it happen in a very roundabout way, but he didn’t actually kill them. She let him talk at length about the incident, and then she needed to pose another question that might shed light on the whole situation in Glencoe.

“Now, I need you to tell me the truth about why the Grangers were buying those drugs from you? How did they know you could get it?”

“Because I’d sold it to them before.” He let out a long breath and looked at his hands in his lap.

“That’s good, Ray. How many times before?”

“I don’t know for sure. A few.”

“How many is a few? Less than ten?”

He kept his eyes down.

“Less than fifteen?” she pushed.

“Maybe a dozen,” he said. “Maybe more, maybe less. I just can’t remember for sure.”

“That’s fine. Why did they buy it from you a dozen times before and never shoot up any wildlife with it? What changed? Why now? The street value of Special K and Philly dope is nothing to sneeze at. I just don’t see why they would use it on a couple of wild bears.”

He shrugged. “You’d have to ask them about that. Sounded crazy to me, too. I wouldn’t waste that kind of money on something stupid.”

No, but you’d blow it on the dope to use yourself, she thought. “So, why’d they buy it before?”

He shifted in his seat and huffed out a long sigh.

“Ray, you need to come clean with me, or do you want something from this to come back and bite you later? You can be certain that we’re going to uncover everything. It’s better for you if you are open with it now. You make us find it out later, and I’ll personally see to it that you’re charged to the fullest extent.”

“For their other dope. They bought it to cut into their other dope, okay?” He looked straight at her without faltering. “It makes their dope better, gets people higher, and they pay more for it.”

He was telling the truth. Ray was an open book. “What other dope?”

“They got a pot farm going up there, and they cook a little, too.” He muddled his words a little, as if he didn’t want to say it but knew he had no choice.

“Okay, pot’s not so bad, but cutting it with other drugs can be fatal. What are they cooking?”

“Well, it ain’t T-bone steaks, lady,” he said.

“Are you talking about meth?”

He raised his hands and made a woo-woo sound. “Oh, no. The dreaded, the awful, the worst drug in the world…the meth.” He scoffed and dropped the act. “Yeah, meth.”

“In Glencoe?”

“You’re smart. Catch on quick, too.”

And there it was. The biting remarks. And they’d been getting along so well. Why did he have to turn into a jerk? “That’s why they pay me the big bucks, Ray. Is that why they pay you the big bucks, too? Because you’re smart, and you know where to get specialized drugs without getting caught?”

He scoffed again. “Nothing special about something you can buy on damn near any street corner in any city.”

“Meth’s that common around here?”

“More common than you think.”

“That means there must be more than one set of suppliers.”

“In a town this small?” He chuckled.

“Then the Grangers monopolized the market? Is that what you’re telling me? That they’re the only meth cookers around here.”

He stared at her for a long pause and then grinned humorlessly. “I’m already a dead man, so what’s it matter what else I tell you? Yeah, they pretty much own the meth market.”

“And they do that by getting the K and Philly from you so they can make their stuff more potent.”

“I guess that would be about right.”

“And now they’ve escalated into kidnapping and brutalizing young women?”

“No. I don’t believe that for a minute. I don’t know what happened with her, but I’ve never seen anything from them that made me think they could hurt someone innocent like that girl.”

“She bears the injuries that prove you wrong, Ray. What about other people? Maybe Emily wasn’t the first person they attacked.” She lifted the cover of the file and slid out two photos. “Daryl Mercer. Alex Ramirez.” She pushed the photos to him. “Did you do anything to these men?”

“No.”

“Do you know who did?”

“N-n-no.” The stutter made a comeback.

“Are you sure? Because that stutter tells me different.”

“I don’t know if my friends had anything to do with them or not, but I just don’t believe they could kill anyone. I can’t believe that. They’re my friends. Only ones I’ve had for eight years.”

“And Emily heard them discussing what to do with her. They were going to kill her eventually, Ray. They were going to kill her because she got lost and wandered into a greenhouse for marijuana. Does that sound like friends you want? Does that sound like friends who would have your back if the tables were turned?”

He shook his head but kept his mouth shut.

“Are you going to tell me where you got the K and Philly?”

He stared at her with his hands clasped in his lap.

“Are you going to clam up now, not be helpful at all to us or yourself?”

An unblinking stare was all the reply she got.

“All right, Ray. Here’s what’s going to happen now. You’re going to be arrested by the FBI for your involvement with the specialized drugs. Buying, intent to distribute, selling, whatever else we can pin to it, and for your part in the deaths of David and Laura Harris, to which you already admitted.”

Without hesitating, Ava made good on her promise.

Carter and his people, Ranger Alcott and his people, and even Tommy Jenkins who sometimes smoked weed and dabbled with other drugs worked with Ava and the team trying to locate the Grangers’ cabin in the woods. Officer Jenkins avoided looking directly at Tommy, enforcing what Eddie Martinez had said about the two being related. Ava couldn’t blame the officer for not wanting anyone to know.

“Emily was great with the details of her story,” Carter said. “Only problem is that none of us have ever seen the place.”

“I thought I’d been all over Acadia Forest, but I’ve never seen a cabin, a greenhouse, or anything that could be used for cooking meth out there,” Alcott said, staring down at the large map of Acadia Forest and Glencoe.

“If the top ranger doesn’t have any idea where the place is, we’re going to need helicopters to do flyovers,” Metford said. “There’s no way we can go out on foot and hope to find the place.”

“It would take days to get the choppers from the Bureau,” Ava said.

“We don’t even have a news bird around here,” Carter said.

“I bought pot from a guy once in Acadia,” Tommy Jenkins said, stepping forward to look at the map.

“Only once?” Senn asked with raised eyebrows and a one-sided grin.

“Yeah, only once,” Tommy shot back. “He scared me, and I didn’t want to buy from him again.”

“He scared you why?” Ava asked.

“He was big, scruffy, and looked like he could wad me up and toss me away without breaking a sweat. Looked like he might want to, too. Paranoid, pushy.” He looked back to Senn. “Only once.” He held up one finger for emphasis.

“Do you remember where in Acadia?” Ava asked.

Tommy put his finger on the map and made a small circle. “Right in there somewhere. It wasn’t close enough to the trail to be seen by any hikers on it, but we heard a couple of women laughing as they walked by on it.”

“Could you show me the spot if the map was more detailed?” Alcott asked.

“You got aerial views?”

“I do.”

“I’ll try, yeah.”

Alcott went to the large tubes that contained maps that he’d brought in earlier. He unfurled three large, shiny aerial maps and laid them flat. The trails were clear in the pictures. “Here’s the area you pointed out,” Alcott said, showing Tommy the area that overlapped the edges of all three aerials.

Tommy barely hesitated. “There. It was right there.” He pointed out a spot where an enormous pine stood next to a gray boulder the size of a Volkswagen. A creek ran close by.

“You’re sure?” Ava asked.

“Yeah. I was going to sit under that pine by the creek while I waited on him because I was early. I sat down and put my back against the tree and relaxed and then he stepped out from behind that big-ass rock without making a sound.”

“But you’re sure that’s the spot, and doesn’t just look a lot like it? Could you have been farther north or south of that place? You know, in the woods, things look similar. Rocks, pines, creeks. I’m sure it’s not the only place that combination happens in Acadia,” Ava suggested.

“Actually,” Alcott said. “That close to the trail? Yeah, it’s the only place.”

“See? Told you,” Tommy said. “But I don’t know where his cabin is. I wouldn’t have went to church with him if he begged me. That’s how much I trusted him.”

“Which way did he leave?” Alcott asked.

“That way.” Tommy pointed again.

“James,” Alcott said, removing the aerial shots. He took a pencil from his pocket and marked the spot on the topo map where Tommy had his encounter. “That’s the buy-spot.” He pulled the map toward the edge of the table and folded it under. “And this is what’s to the west.”

“West Virginia is out that way, too,” Senn said.

Ava was tempted to tell him that he was smart and that’s why they paid him the big bucks, but she didn’t. He was like Bates: the sooner she could get away from him, the better.

“That’s right,” Alcott agreed with a long sigh. “Now, how far away from there would the cabin be? All of that is dense forest.” He pulled an aerial shot in which the ground wasn’t visible through the foliage. “Like this. All the way over into West Virginia.”

“There aren’t any roads in there?” Ava asked.

“Not to my knowledge. They’d show on aerial shots if there were,” Alcott said.

“If there aren’t any roads back there, he would have to walk, right?”

Everybody nodded.

“Tommy, did you hear a motorcycle when he left?”

“No.”

“Not even far off in the distance, or when you were walking back there to meet him?”

“No.”

“How far would a big man like him walk to sell a little pot?” she asked.

Alcott scowled, Senn shrugged and smirked, and Carter scrubbed his chin with his palm.

“Not more than half a mile in that terrain, would be my guess,” Officer Jenkins said.

“If he lived that close, he would have been discovered by now,” Metford said. “You can’t hide an operation like that so easily. The smell alone would give your location away.”

“He’s right,” Ava agreed.

“Then he wasn’t just selling a little weed to a townie, was he, Tommy?” Senn asked.

For once, Ava agreed with him.

“It was,” Tommy said defensively.

“Right. Whatever you say, Tommy,” Carter said. “I got bigger fish to fry than you right now. You have anything else that might help us here?”

Tommy shook his head. “If I think of anything, I’ll call or come by again.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” Carter said.

Tommy left the gym at a light jog.

“Well, now what?” Senn asked. “Should we round up some horses, maybe?”

“Horses wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Carter said. “But do any of us ride?”

Ava, Alcott, and his rangers nodded in unison.

“Well, we can’t do this with just a posse of rangers and one fed,” Senn shot.

“Yeah, God forbid you weren’t in the spotlight for once,” Carter said. “What do you think? You’re the fed he was talking about, Agent James.”

“Alcott?” she asked. “You’re the one with extensive knowledge of the terrain out there. Horses or no?”

“It’s so dense that it will be easier to move around without being detected if we’re on foot.”

“There you have it. No horses.” Ava moved to Alcott’s side and tilted her head at the map. “How big of an area are we going to have to search?”

He made a larger circle than Ava liked.

“That’s a lot of land. How long will it take us to get back there?”

“Lot of factors play into that, but I would estimate at least ten hours, maybe double that depending on where the cabin and operation are set up.”

“That’s a big window of time,” Metford said.

“That’s a big woods out there,” Alcott said. “I can get us in there safely. I’ve dealt with grow-sites in the forest before, when I worked in the Santa Lucia Mountains in Big Sur.”

“A Cali man?” Metford asked.

Deputy Parker smiled appreciatively at him.

“For a few years, yeah. This is home now, though. Been here longer than I was there.”

“How soon before you’re ready to leave?” Carter asked.

“What, you’re not joining us, Sheriff?” Alcott asked, clapping Carter on the shoulder.

“Smartass. Better carry shelter in case you’re out there a while,” Carter said. To Ava, he said, “Or, in case he gets all of you lost.” He pointed to Alcott.

“If it’s going to take a minimum of ten hours to hike in from the upper trail, we best not head out until right before daylight tomorrow. This time of year, that should leave us plenty of daylight after we get there.”

“What if the place is farther?” Metford asked. “We’ll have to camp out there.”

“That’s the plan,” Alcott said. “Don’t worry, I’m an expert.”

“Oh, he’s not worried. This is right down his alley,” Ava assured Alcott. “Detests being in the office at the desk. Don’t you, Metford?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll pack enough survival gear for all of us,” Alcott said. “I would think you have your own gear you have to carry on missions like this?”

“We do, but if we need to shoulder a pack, we can.”

“You, Metford, and who else are going?”

“I’m going,” Senn announced.

Ava cringed on the inside. Couldn’t she just carry a rattlesnake the whole way instead?

“Parker, Jenkins, you two can go with them,” Carter said.

“Ranger Green, you come with me,” Alcott said.

“What about me?” Ranger Bennet asked, standing straighter.

“No, you’re still healing, Lucas,” Alcott said.

“But I’m fine,” he countered. “I’m patched and healing fine.”

Alcott shook his head. “Hannah can go. She’s not injured, and she knows the woods as well as you do.”

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” Hannah said, patting him on the arm.

“This isn’t going to be a school kid field trip,” Ava said, looking directly at Ranger Green. “Understand that this is a very dangerous maneuver we’re doing here, Ranger Green.”

Hannah cleared her throat and her manner turned serious. “Yes, ma’am. I understand. I was just…” She let the sentence hang unfinished as she caught everyone else’s reprimanding looks. “Yeah. I understand. No more fooling around.”

“Good. Like Ranger Alcott said before, there will likely be booby traps all over the place once we start getting close to the perimeter of the site. You have to be vigilant, watch every step, look up, look down, and to both sides. If the Grangers have been at this for any length of time, they’ll have traps that are almost indistinguishable from the natural surroundings. You have to watch for the trigger points. Look for things that are out of place or uncommon out there: wires, twine, string, fishing line, stacked rocks, freshly cut logs. Don’t step over or around anything without thoroughly checking the surrounding area first. Everyone understand?”

“Yes,” was the unified answer.

“When we get there, Agent Metford and I will confront the Grangers. They’re paranoid, and they’ll do whatever it takes to keep from being arrested. Remember that. If there are others out there, assume the same for them. They’ll fight, stab, cut, or shoot you to stay out of jail. By now, we have to assume they know about the deaths and that they are linked to them. We have to assume they know we have Emily back and that’s she’s told us everything about them. They’ll be dangerous, people.” She looked to Alcott and Carter. “You’re sure about your decisions here?”

They agreed.

“We’ll meet here at four-thirty in the morning,” she said with finality. “Go kiss your significant other, pet the cat, feed the dog, and get some rest.”

“And don’t eat a heavy supper tonight,” Alcott warned. “There aren’t any bathrooms out there, and you don’t want to be caught with your pants around your ankles.”

Ava motioned for Metford, and they went out the door.

“Where are we going?” Metford asked.

“He said don’t eat a heavy supper.” She looked at her watch. “I figure we better pack in some protein and carbs now.”

“Now, see? That’s my love language right there. ‘Come on, honey. Let’s go get stuffed with some protein and carbs.’ That’s the ideal life.” He pulled his shoulders back and inhaled deeply.

“When a woman finally comes along and catches your eye, all she’ll have to do is cater to your enormous appetite, and she’ll be stuck with you forever, won’t she?” Ava laughed.

“Better believe it. I haven’t found one yet who has a real appetite, though. They all want to peck at salads like birds when I take them out.” He tittered and shook his head as he opened the loaner’s passenger door.

“Two federal agents, two cops, two rangers, and a surly detective head off on a day-long hike together in search of suspected drug distributors and murderers,” Metford said as he and Ava waited for the others to show up. “Sounds like the beginning of a joke, doesn’t it?”

Dane handed him a large cup of coffee as she strode in looking as if it was normal to go without sleep for two days. “At least they weren’t walking into a bar together,” she said. She handed Ava the other coffee.

“Thanks,” Ava said. She turned up the cup and drank deeply, relishing the bitter, dark bite of the hot drink. Some things in life were still unchanged by the blight of crime. Coffee was that thing in her life.

“You’re not really going to drink all that right before we head into the woods, are you?” Metford asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” But she knew. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she understood.

“No bathrooms out there. Just saying.”

“Are you going to drink yours?” she asked in rebuttal.

He turned it up and drank three big, noisy gulps and smacked his lips afterward as an answer. “I don’t need a toilet, thank you very much.”

Thinking better of the coffee, she pushed it away. “You can have it, if you want it.”

He pretended to throw a basketball toward the net to their side. “Swoosh, and he scores,” he said loudly. “Did you just admit that I was right and you were wrong? Ow-wee, that had to sting so early in the morning.” He reached for the cup.

“I most certainly did not. I made a decision, that’s all.” She turned to look over their gear again.

“Right. A very informed decision, thanks to me. I’ll take it.” He took the coffee. “You don’t have a cold or the flu or anything, do you?” He grinned mischievously.

“Not that I’m aware,” she said, still checking their gear.

“None that he would have to worry about, anyway,” Santos said, walking by to join Dane at the paperwork. “I saw him drop a burger on the ground—”

“Hey, stop,” Metford said. “You don’t have to announce everything you ever saw. Some things are supposed to be private and bond partners together, or something like that. Anyway, you’re not supposed to tell everything. Remember the bonding classes we all had to take?”

“Trust-building classes,” Santos corrected. “And there was nothing about not telling how I saw my partner pick up that burger, put it back together, and finish eating it.”

“Oh,” Ava said, her mouth turning down at the thought. “Metford, you didn’t.”

“She exaggerates,” he said.

“And he will eat off the ground,” Santos said with a wry grin. “We all have our little idiosyncrasies, don’t we?”

“We’ll have to take lead even if Senn and the others don’t want us to,” Ava told Metford.

“Yeah, I don’t think they organize and go after many dangerous criminals out here.”

She shook her head. “Just keep your head on a swivel out there.”

“Always do.” He drained his cup of coffee and put her cup inside the empty one.

Ava stood and put on her tactical gear. Metford looked at his watch, eyed the gear, sighed, and put it on.

“Why can’t the bad guys ever hide out in regular places? Why is it always out in the roughest terrain possible? And in the summer?” he complained.

“We’ve collared bad guys in every setting, Metford, and in every weather condition. I prefer the summer. At least I can still feel my hands and feet in summer.”

He exhaled deeply and finished gearing up just as the others came in the door.

Chip Alcott looked chipper and ready to take on the world. Ava wondered if that was his everyday demeanor, or if trekking into no-man’s land had him in such a good mood.

They all loaded into Alcott’s Suburban and set off to Acadia Forest.

At the upper camping and recreation area, he pulled into the gravel parking area and moved to the far end.

“Gear’s on the rack,” he said, pointing up. “If you can, carry the bags for our federal agents. They have enough of their own to lug around, and I don’t know about you all, but I would feel better knowing they’re not any more encumbered than necessary.” He smiled at Senn and Jenkins in particular.

“Still say we should have brought horses. Would have been a hell of a lot faster going, and we could have packed all our gear on them. Then we’d all be ‘unencumbered,’ wouldn’t we?” Senn got out and stretched.

“Such a ray of sunshine,” Metford said quietly to Ava. “Just gives you a warm fuzzy feeling all over, doesn’t he?”

Ava grunted and reached over Metford to open the door. “Can we just get out?”

Everyone filed out of the vehicle. Alcott opened a map over the hood and talked them through the route he intended to take and why. Before leaving, he gave everyone compasses except Ava and Metford, who had their own.

“GPS is a no-go up here. As is cell service. If you happen to get lost out there for any reason, walk east and you’ll eventually come back out to somewhere you recognize. Let’s move.”

The group set out in silence. Ava was sure the gravity of their mission weighed on their minds as it did on hers. The hideout was hours and many acres away. They could walk and think quietly for a while without much worry other than the terrain.

The air was thick with the cloying smell of late-season honeysuckle and pine. It wasn’t unpleasant, just sharp. For the longest time, the only sounds were their boots crunching along the trail, the call of cicadas, and the songs of various species of birds.

After about an hour, everyone had paired off into couples. Alcott and Green walked together, shoulder to shoulder, heads together over the tightly folded map. Jenkins and Parker matched strides as if they were synced-up as they discussed stories from their fieldwork. Ava and Metford had also naturally paired up, but their conversations were sparse. Everyone but Senn had a buddy. He seemed content to walk alone and not be included. He paused every now and then, examined some flora or fauna, and spoke his observations aloud whether anyone was listening or not. Though he was hard to like and even harder to understand, Ava admired his observant nature. If something was out of place or seemed odd, he was quick to notice and alert everyone else. That would come in handy the closer they got to the site.

The sun climbed higher, and the temperature rose with it. Before noon, sweat had slicked Ava’s face, arms, neck, and trickled down the front of her shirt to form a wet area at the top of the vest.

“My armpits are like swamps,” Metford said, lifting his arms to the sides with his elbows bent. “Wouldn’t complain if a nice cool breeze came through every half-hour or so.”

“Yeah, you would,” Senn said.

Metford grinned. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“That’s what you do. You complain.” Senn stepped off the trail and picked up a rock, looked it over appreciatively and tossed it back.

“It is?” Metford’s gaze swept from Senn to Ava. “Do I complain a lot?” he asked her. “I don’t. Do I?”

Ava suppressed a smile and gave him a neutral look. “Ignore it. Wrong time, wrong place.” Inside, she was having a belly laugh. Senn was definitely observant, just not of others’ feelings, apparently. When the job was over, she would rib Metford relentlessly for at least a couple of weeks.

They didn’t stop to eat. They ate power bars, drank water, and kept moving. They barely stopped long enough to rest for five minutes and let Senn and Jenkins catch their breath before crossing a rocky stream and climbing a steep incline on the other side.

Winded, Senn bent at the waist when he reached the top of the incline. When he stood straight, his face was an alarming shade of red.

“You okay, Detective?” Ava asked, genuinely concerned.

“Not my usual terrain, but yeah, I’m fine. What doesn’t kill you and all.” He waved a dismissive hand at her as he huffed for breath.

“What doesn’t kill you out there in the everyday world can kill you back here, Detective,” Alcott said, moving to his side. “Do you have heart trouble?”

“No, I don’t have heart trouble.” Senn stood and waved Alcott away. “What the hell? A man gets a little winded, and suddenly, he’s having a coronary?”

Alcott wet a cloth and handed it to him. “Take off your shirt and rub down with the water. We all need to rest for a few minutes, and it’ll give you time to cool down.”

Senn snatched the cloth and dropped his pack off his shoulders to the ground. After yanking his shirt off, he tossed the sodden fabric on the bag and rubbed the cloth over his chest, neck, and face.

Alcott walked to the edge of the rise they were on and pointed. “Do you see the next rise in the land?”

She did.

“I believe the Grangers are somewhere past it, down in the flat area between that rise and the steep one just past it.”

“They nestled their hideout and operations camp in a shallow, narrow valley exactly in the middle of nowhere,” Ava stated.

“If I were a betting man, yes,” Alcott said. “Who’s going to accidentally stumble into their operation way out here?”

“Emily Larson did,” Ava reminded him.

Alcott’s face fell and he turned to look out over the land again. “It’s a little easier going from here on, but there is at least one more steep incline to conquer if the topo is correct.”

“You don’t know?” Senn asked incredulously as he shook out his shirt and slipped it back on.

“No,” Alcott said, spinning to face him. “I told everyone back at the school that I hadn’t been this far out. You are looking into West Virginia right there.” He pointed farther right of the spot they were heading to. “Me and my rangers have all we can handle with the upkeep of the marked areas. There are no marked paths, no recreation areas, nothing out here that I have to be responsible for.”

“Tell Emily Larson that,” Senn said, brushing past him and heading down the gentler side of the incline toward their destination.

Alcott, wounded, dropped his head. Hannah put a hand on his shoulder. The others filed by quietly to follow Senn.

Ava stood by Alcott until the others were out of earshot. “I know what you meant, Alcott. Don’t let him get under your skin. Can’t afford to right now.”

“If I’d had any idea…” He turned regret-filled eyes to her. “Any idea at all.”

“I know. Any of us would have, if we’d had any idea, but none of us did.” She headed down the hill.

After several more hours of the grueling hike, Ava called the party to a halt in the woods before the shallow valley opened up where Alcott suspected the Grangers were. She had noted everyone’s slowing pace and knew the weariness from the long hike had begun to set in. Bad timing, but couldn’t be helped. After spending the day in Acadia, she understood why Alcott had said no to horses. They would have spent more time and energy leading horses through the terrain than they already had.

The sun was low in the west, but she figured they still had about three hours of full daylight, and another ninety minutes before night fell.

“What are we going to do with them if we collar them now?” Senn asked. “We babysitting two violent criminals through the night and hoping for the best?”

“If that’s what we have to do, yes,” Ava said. She turned to Alcott. “Is there an easier way out of here?”

“Not on the Glencoe side.”

“Does that mean there’s an easier way out in another direction? Where were the loggers that Emily ran into?”

Alcott pulled out the map, studied it, and pointed to the spot. “In this area.”

“That’s what, just on the other side of the incline on the other side of the valley?”

He nodded.

“If they had trucks and equipment back there, why didn’t we come in that way?”

“Because the road is over the state line in West Virginia. Those men don’t have an easy ride to or from town. They work in shifts. While one shift is driving out for lunch or whatever, the other shift is going in. That’s why they have a camper up there. They do everything in rotations.”

“But they brought her to us in Glencoe, so we can get back to town if we get to where they are,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “If we collar them tonight, we’re going to the logging site to get out.”

He nodded.

She didn’t blow up on him, but she would when the mission was over. If there was an easier way in, they had trekked for nearly ten hours and were worn out when they could have driven in from the other side. She was just as angry at herself for not thinking of it before they started out, but she couldn’t waste time and energy beating herself up, either. That, too, would have to wait until the job was finished. She counted it as a lesson learned the hard way, which never would be forgotten.

“Ten minutes to rest, and then we’re pushing on,” she said, walking back through the group without looking at any of them directly.

Using the field glasses, Ava scanned the open area ahead of the group. Metford did the same. Alcott and Green used larger but less powerful binoculars. Each team used the tools of their trade with which they were comfortable. And Senn used his own eyes and senses. Ava didn’t say anything about it. For all she knew, the man was part animal and could see and sense better than any of them. He certainly had aggressive, raw ways that reminded her of an ill-tempered, perhaps feral, animal. Parker and Jenkins had their own pocket-sized field glasses.

“I see something,” Metford said, pointing but not taking the glasses away from his eyes. “You can just barely see the glint of sunlight off glass over the top of the scrub.”

Everyone moved to look. One after the other, they each saw it. A bright gleam in the middle of a wide patch of scrub brush, broken trees, and briars.

“Five-hundred feet,” Ava said. “Glass at that height and angle can only mean it’s on a roof. If that’s the case, we have just found the greenhouse that Emily stumbled into.”

“The cabin isn’t far away, and the meth lab is out there somewhere, too,” Metford said. “I’m not seeing any smoke, or any signs of people moving around, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“From here, don’t take a step that you don’t check what you’re about to step on, and remember to always look up, down, right, left, and if it feels wrong, look again. Listen to your gut. If you see nothing, but your gut says to check again, check again. Remember how far out we are. An ambulance can’t get to you,” Ava warned.

“We’re isolated enough that we might as well be on the damn moon,” Senn grumbled.

“That’s actually a very good way to think of it,” Ava agreed. “Now, let’s stay paired up and spread out wide. We don’t want to be all in a group so they can just pick us off at once if we’re seen. Use the overgrown grass, the scrub, anything you can to remain out of sight. That means walking hunched close to the ground, and if necessary, going on your hands and knees. They won’t hesitate to open fire if they see you. Metford and I will go ahead of all of you. Stagger your positions so we’re not all in a straight line, as well. Don’t get ahead of us unless we’re injured. This could turn sideways in a heartbeat. On your toes, heads on swivels, move out.”

Metford gave her a quick grin. “Good speech, boss. Peppy, motivational. Got me hyped, but I don’t know about anyone else.” He bounced his shoulders as they moved cautiously to the edge of the forest and looked out.

“Shut up, Metford,” she said. “Alcott, you and Hannah go about a hundred feet to the right. Parker, Jenkins, Senn, you go about a hundred feet to our left. I’ll signal when I want you to move. Cops first, and then rangers. Got it?”

Everybody got it. Senn seemed displeased, but that seemed to be his default disposition. He voiced no opinion one way or the other about the situation, so Ava moved on.

She went into the open area with every sense heightened. She and Metford fanned apart until he was fifty feet to her right. She motioned for the second crew to move out on her left. She motioned for them to fan out and keep their eyes open.

Metford made his way toward the structure that had glinted sunlight. Ava eased farther into the open area where the scrub was shorter and stouter to move through. She motioned for the rangers to move out and fan on her right.

Metford motioned that he could see the structure and that he was going to go closer. Ava pushed forward but ran into a wall of tangled scrub and briars that she couldn’t go through. She had to walk farther left to find a way through. She stopped in her hunched position and scanned the ground. It was oddly clear of tangle-briars and scrub-runners, the very same things that had woven together and through limbs, tying the greenery into a wall that stood hip-high where she had been. Not seeing any trip wires or disturbed dirt, she gingerly stepped through the slit of an opening; limbs scraped at her face, neck, and arms as she sidled through with very little noise.

On that side of the tangle and overgrowth, the long grasses were crushed flat in a path. It was narrow. Not as narrow as a game trail, but narrow enough to not be seen unless someone walked onto it. Following it with her eyes to the right, the trail was blocked by the grass, weeds, and various flora to the sides. Metford’s shoulders and head were just visible above it at a distance, as was the greenhouse beyond him.

In the far distance, she could just make out Alcott and Hannah’s movements. They were crouched low enough that their heads were below the line of the greenery. That was good. If she could hardly see them, someone farther away probably couldn’t. They eased through the treeless area like two big cats stalking prey on the savannah.

Turning, she risked lifting her head to look for Senn and the officers. Her heart seized when she saw Senn standing tall, looking around, eyes squinted against the light. She motioned for him to get down. Only a second later, Parker stood straight, shielded her eyes with one hand against the sun and surveyed the area.

Ava motioned to get their attention, but they were oblivious. She moved toward them, cursing silently at the danger they were putting the group in. Staying on the path, she tried to position herself in Senn’s line of sight without standing up over the scrub and making herself a prime target, too.

Senn turned in her direction, and she waved both arms to the sides and level with her shoulders. He caught the movement, and they made eye contact. Ava gestured for him to get down, and he smiled. Giving her a thumbs-up, he barely bent.

Parker spotted Ava and held up a hand. She stuck up two fingers and then pointed to the woods across the clearing.

Two people. Ava turned to motion to Metford so he could pass the information to the rangers, but he wasn’t in sight. The door of the greenhouse stood slightly ajar. He’d stepped in to clear the structure. The rangers were too far away to see her gesturing.

Ava turned toward the woods across the way just as a shot rang out. Senn yelled, the sound of the bullet striking flesh making her cringe. It had happened. Just as she had feared. The situation had gone sideways.

She hit the ground and aimed her gun in the direction of the sound, but she could see no movement, no glint of sunlight off a barrel, no sign of life at all. Rustling from the left drew her attention. Parker ran toward Senn’s writhing form on the ground.

“Get down!” Ava yelled. “Get down, Parker!” she yelled a second time.

Parker crouched but kept running. Another shot rang out. Parker was hit. Looked like it was in the left shoulder. After the wet whumping sound of the bullet hitting flesh, Parker’s arms flew out as she was spun to face the way they had come out of the woods, and then another shot came. It hit her in the other arm, and blood sprayed into the air.

Ava turned her gun back to the woods. Metford was stealthily moving forward, toward where the shots came from, his gun raised.

“Metford,” Ava called.

He turned and took a knee, looking at her.

“Parker saw two of them.” She pointed in the general direction, unsure where the shooter was. “Senn and Parker are down.”

A whip cracked and a bullet tore through the air inches from her face. She recoiled, landed on her back, and rolled closer to Metford’s position, hoping there were no wires.

“You hit?” Metford called in a low, deep voice that didn’t carry far.

“No,” she replied.

Another bullet whizzed above her head, and she crawled toward her partner. If any of the others had been directly behind her, they would have been hit. She stopped ten feet from Metford and went up to one knee. She scanned the dim tree line for movement. Muzzle flare shocked the deep pocket of shadows in a straight line from her location.

“Metford,” she called. “My twelve. Between the tall pines. Muzzle flare.”

He turned and locked onto the spot. Another shot whistled by to her left. Parker and Senn moaned in pain. Ava breathed out slowly, still unable to get a visual on the shooter. Another muzzle flare. Ava squeezed the trigger, aiming just below the point of the flare.

Splinters flew from the tree, and for a response, three quick shots zinged between Ava and Metford. Metford moved to the front of the greenhouse and returned fire. Ava moved forward, keeping a thicket between her and the woods. Shots rang out from her left. Jenkins returned fire from his vantage point.

Metford fired two shots. Someone screamed. A man. Metford stood, exposing himself to the shooter, but he was back down in an instant.

“One down. He’s at the edge of the shadows,” Metford reported, not taking his eyes from the tree line.

Ava looked around the thicket. “I don’t see him. Stay down.”

Metford looked confused. He popped up to check, and a shot buzzed to his right, shattering glass from the greenhouse.

Ava returned fire and ducked again. “Got a runner going right,” she said.

Metford fired at the runner, barely visible because of the long, blonde hair flying out and catching whippets of sunlight. The runner sprinted like the wind and disappeared into the shadows again.

“Man’s down again,” Metford said. “I’m going after the runner.”

“Metford, no,” Ava said, but it was too late; he cut through the remainder of the open area quickly. Too quickly. There was no way he could have been checking the ground for wires. Ava cursed under her breath while simultaneously sending up prayers that he would avoid booby traps and not get shot.

Jenkins moved through the head-high weeds toward Parker and Senn. He wasn’t being careful, either. “Jenkins, stop!” Ava yelled. “Stop!” she repeated when he didn’t halt.

“Parker, I’m coming,” he said.

“No, Jenkins,” Ava said, not worrying about giving away her location any longer. “Watch the ground,” she said.

Jenkins glanced in her direction and tripped. As he fell, Ava heard something swishing in a deadly arc through the grass in front of him. She winced. There was nothing else she could do. Before Jenkins hit the ground, there was a sound like a wet slap, and Jenkins screamed.

“God, my leg!” he yelled as Ava moved toward him.

She was torn between wanting to help the injured, needing to join Metford, and keeping her head down because at least one of the criminals was still up and active. When she was close enough to see Senn, Parker, and Jenkins, she didn’t like what was on offer.

Parker had been shot twice, and she had lost a lot of blood. Her body still actively pumped blood from the holes. Senn had removed his shirt and pressed it over his own side, and had leaned on Parker’s left shoulder to stave the blood loss as best he could.

Jenkins had hit a trip wire that had set off a shin-breaking trap. The thin iron bar had been attached to a truck spring, pulled back, and held in place by wire. The force of the impact had been so bad that Jenkins’ lower leg looked like it had another knee joint. One that bent in the wrong direction. Blood soaked through his jeans and poured between his fingers. He used both hands to push at the sides of his leg as he cried.

“It won’t stay,” he said. “It won’t stay where it’s supposed to.”

There was nothing to be done for any of them as long as the threat was still active. “Jenkins, Senn, Parker, I need all of you to stay down, stay calm. We have to clear the area before we can do anything else. The threat is still active. Do you understand me?”

Jenkins nodded, but his mouth hung slack, and the color was gone. He was in shock. Same with Parker. She moaned weakly. Senn acknowledged. He was the only coherent one left of the three.

“Toss Parker’s gun to me,” Senn said. “I’ll protect them as long as I can.”

“Where’s your gun?” Ava asked, stretching to her limit to grab Parker’s gun and toss it to Senn.

“Still in the damn holster. Go get the bastards,” he said.

Ava moved to Metford’s last position at the greenhouse and then followed the path he had taken across the field. He had gone into the woods, and the shadows swallowed him. The downed man coughed and sputtered a few yards to her left. She moved from tree to tree and picked up the rifle that lay just out of his reach. Working swiftly, she located where Metford had shot him.

“We’ll get you help, sir,” she said. Something wasn’t right. The injury hadn’t even spilled much blood. She started patting him down for other weapons as she spoke. “Just be still and stay down—”

With speed that belied his enormous size, the man rolled and caught Ava in her exposed side with an elbow. Caught off-guard, she flew to the side like a ragdoll and whacked back-first into a pine tree. Her head cracked against the rough bark, and then she fell forward. The man rushed her. She raised the gun to shoot, but he was too fast and swatted the gun to the side with one hand while jamming the other against her throat and pushing her into the tree again.

The pressure was instant and immense as he squeezed her throat. He bared his teeth and screamed wordlessly into her face before unleashing a barrage of curses punctuated with punches to her gut. Pinned to the tree like a bug on a board, she kicked with all the strength she had left. The world blacked out at the edges of her vision, and her sinuses filled with the scent of copper. She kicked again as something in her throat shifted painfully. The man was going to kill her if she didn’t do something.

Tamping down the panic in her mind, Ava stopped clawing at the hand around her throat and reached to her waist. More of the world gave way to the blackness just as her fingers curled around the knife. The man punched her in the ribs again, and her body answered with a pop from her ribs. She didn’t just hear the pop; she felt it reverberate through her core. If she could have drawn breath, or exhaled it, she would have screamed like a banshee from the pain.

As she jerked her foot up for one more shot at his groin, she brought the knife up with equal momentum. The simultaneous connections had the expected outcome. With the knife in his side, and her foot in his groin, the man stopped. It was sudden; almost as if someone had hit the pause button on the remote and stopped an action scene on TV.

His fingers uncurled from her throat, his eyes bugged wide, and his mouth opened in a silent ‘O’ of shock and pain. He staggered a half-step back, and Ava used the tree trunk to leverage her weight against his center. Instead of falling as she expected, the beast of a man rushed backward, caught his balance, and began turning in a circle as he reached for the knife in his ribs.

Ava retrieved her gun and fired a shot that hit him in the leg, dropping him in his tracks. She rushed to get a handle on the situation and ordered him to stand down. Even with the gun at his head, the man wasn’t keen on taking orders from her.

“I shot you once already, don’t make me do it again,” she threatened through clenched teeth. Every breath was agony that lit up her side from the broken rib. The steel in her voice must have convinced him that he had lost the battle because he stopped struggling. “I have to get that knife out of your side, but you have to stay still.”

His eyes rolled, and a continuous growling noise emanated from him.

The knife had missed his ribs. The blood was bright red and not frothy. It hadn’t punctured his lung. She didn’t think the blade was long enough to do any serious damage to a man his size, but she couldn’t be sure.

Metford, Alcott, and Green walked into view. Metford held a skinny, wild-eyed woman at arm’s length, and they were all panting for breath.

“Grizz,” the woman wailed when she saw the injured man. “What did you do to him, you bitch?” She tried to fling herself forward, to the man, but with her hands cuffed behind her back and Metford holding on, she didn’t go anywhere. She backed up, screamed wildly, and tried to run. Metford braced, and the woman’s feet flew out from under her, and she landed on her butt. On the ground, she kicked her feet, thrashed her head side to side, and even managed to roll backward like a ball in several bids to get free from Metford.

Green stepped up and slapped the woman hard across the face. “Stop!” she screamed. “Be still and shut up!”

For a small woman, Hannah Green had the voice of a giant. It echoed through the woods. Metford, Alcott, and the woman in cuffs wore matching expressions of complete shock.

“Hey, that’s enough, Green,” Ava said. “She’s in cuffs. Go see to Parker, Jenkins, and Senn. Watch your step when you do.”

Green scowled at the two culprits as she stepped past.

“Cabin is up the way,” Metford said. “We cleared it.”

“Meth lab is in the woods over here,” Alcott said.

“They’re the only two here,” Metford said. “Need help?”

“No,” Ava said, wresting the man’s hands behind his back and cuffing him. She stood, holding a hand to her side and inhaling as deep as she could.

“You’re hurt,” Alcott said, moving to her side.

She motioned him away. “Just a broken rib.”

Alcott scoffed. “Just?”

“Rhonda Rousey here has had a lot worse done to her and walked away victorious,” Metford said jokingly, but his expression showed his worry.

“We need to get them and get to the logging site. The others need help. Jenkins and Parker are messed up bad,” she said. “They can’t move from where they are, and it’s getting darker by the second. We have to take these two and call for help ASAP.”

“I’ll grab our packs,” Alcott said. “There’s first-aid kits in them.” He headed back to where he and Hannah had dropped their bags.

“Hate to tell him that ten first-aid kits won’t do much good,” Ava said. She nudged the man with her foot. “Get on your feet.”

“Don’t tell him what to do!” the woman screamed, still wild-eyed as a rabbit in a trap.

“Marlene Granger,” Ava said.

“What?”

“Travis Granger,” Ava said, holding the woman’s gaze.

The man on the ground rolled his massive head toward her.

“So, you know our names,” the woman said. “Want a prize? How about a police brutality charge to go with that broken rib?”

Ava rushed the woman who was struggling to her feet with Metford’s help. Metford threw out a hand, catching Ava in the shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, there, boss,” he said, pulling the woman out of Ava’s reach. “We got them. It’s over. Don’t mess it up now.”

Ava ate the outburst and it was terrible. With adrenaline and pain coursing through her at the same time, she wanted only to let it out on someone. “He’s going to have another charge on top of whatever else he ends up with,” she said in a low voice. She told him to get up again. “Every misstep from here until we get to the station will earn you another charge added to the list. Assaulting a federal agent is just the beginning.”

The man got to his feet and had the audacity to still glare at her. “And what if I accepted that challenge?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I didn’t offer a challenge; I issued a promise.”

Dr. Fernando finished scribbling the scripts and ripped them from the booklet. “Take these to Jordy Stevens down at Moore’s Pharmacy. It’s at the end of Main Street. Can’t miss it. He’ll fill them for you immediately. Go to the hotel, or wherever you’re staying, and get some rest. Doctor’s orders.” He smiled and handed her the three papers.

“Three scripts for a broken rib?” Ava asked. Her voice rasped painfully in her throat, and she had the overwhelming urge to clear it, but that hurt even worse. She grimaced reflexively.

“No, there’s only one for the pain caused by that broken rib. It’s not very strong, but it should take the edge off. There’s a topical antibacterial and pain reliever for the cut on your leg that you wouldn’t allow me to stitch closed, and then I gave you something to help you get some sleep. You need it. Badly. I’ll give you a box of dressings for the leg. Keep it clean and dry, and if it starts bleeding again, it’s going to need a couple of stitches.”

“Thanks, doc, but I don’t have time to sleep right now. I have work to do. I just needed to be sure the rib wasn’t going to be a problem. You know, make sure it wasn’t sticking into my lung, or wouldn’t gouge anything important.”

“You’re one of those, eh?” He took off his glasses and crossed his arms to look at her with disappointment.

“I guess so.” Ava stood and cleared her throat again before she could stop herself. The pain wasn’t as bad as before, but it was not pretty.

“Your body needs sleep to heal. Your throat isn’t going to be fun for a couple of weeks. I still say you need to see the specialist—”

“It’s fine, Dr. Fernando. I appreciate your concern, but I have two unsolved murders and a rioting town to deal with before I worry about my throat.”

“You got whoever did this to you, I hope.” He opened the door for her.

“I did.”

Ava turned the scripts in at the pharmacy and Jordy shook his head at them. “Paper scripts,” he said. “I’m trying to get the doctors to get on board with the online script service. I’ve been at this for three years, and still.” He held up the papers and shook his head. “I wonder if it was like this with the guy who invented the wheel? Did everybody just ignore his efforts to make their lives easier?”

“I’ll pick these up later,” Ava said. She didn’t feel like, nor did she have the time, to make nice with anyone.

“Sure. They’ll be ready in about twenty minutes, if you wanna wait.”

She was already walking for the door. She held a hand up and gave him a backhand wave as she continued outside. The wound on her thigh thumped in time with her heart. Damn Travis Granger, she thought sourly. Damn him and the saw blade at the logging site he had snagged. The man had been stabbed in the ribs, shot in the leg, and had walked through the woods for over three hours, and still he’d had enough strength to attack her again as soon as an opportunity appeared. If he was the man Tommy Jenkins had seen in the woods, no wonder he’d been skittish and got away from him quickly. Ava almost didn’t get away. It could have been much worse, and that wasn’t lost on her. It weighed heavily on her mind as she made her way to the station.

Metford, Dane, and Santos met her outside the sheriff’s office. They went over the murders as they walked.

“Delmar Wilson, the man who carried Emily into the gym, said something very interesting to the sheriff,” Dane said.

“He’s an interesting character,” Ava said.

“No doubt, but this was something I wish we’d known sooner. He said that when Emily showed up, and while the men were helping get her to the truck, they had all seen a man running from the logging site. He had a bear pelt with the head still attached over his back, and get this, he was wearing what looked like bear paws with big wooden claws sticking out of them. Delmar said they looked like something from a Freddy Krueger movie.”

“What?” Ava stopped and tried to process what she’d heard.

“Yeah. Carter took the report.” Dane opened the file she carried. “It’s right here. The men saw the guy two other times before that, too. He was with the activist group during the first little brawl at the diner, and the last one, too. He wasn’t arrested either time and managed to slip away. They recognized him because they’d seen him before.”

“Why didn’t they mention it before? Why didn’t one of them try to stop the guy?”

“Because they were focused on getting Emily off the mountain and to safety as soon as possible. Did you know the road goes way over into West Virginia when they come off the site? They have to drive—”

“She knows, Dane,” Santos said. “They just came that way.”

“Delmar and his men gave a very detailed description of the man.” She turned the open file to Ava and showed her a rough sketch of the man’s face.

“Ever see the old TV show The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams?” Metford asked.

Dane and Santos had twin expressions of confusion. They had never heard of the show.

“I never watched it, but I remember my grandmother referencing it when I was a kid,” Ava said. “Why? What’s that to do with this?”

“A bear pun?” Santos asked.

“No pun. That sketch looks like the main character on that show. Dan Haggerty. He played Grizzly Adams.” He grinned. “I can’t believe I’m the only one who’s ever seen that show.”

“One of these things is not like the others,” Santos said in a sing-songy voice.

“Ha ha. I’ve got a firm grasp of what the man looks like in real life is all I’m getting at. Delmar is going to be at the gym in a few minutes. I’m going to ask him if the picture is accurate. I bet he’ll know the show.”

“Yeah, and then you two can stroll down Nostalgia Avenue together talking about TV shows and actors that no one else has ever heard of,” Santos said.

Metford whipped out his phone and searched for a photo of Dan Haggerty on the internet. As they walked through the parking lot of the gym, he showed them. “That’s him. That’s what this guy is going to look like when we see him. Tell me that’s not better than some sketch that isn’t all that good.”

“It’s better,” Ava said.

She interviewed Delmar and Frenchie for the better part of an hour about what they had seen, what they knew, and what Emily had said to them. At the end of the interview, she had a picture that looked very similar to Metford’s Dan Haggerty to take with her to the campground where the activists were staying. If someone like the picture was in the group, they could point him out when she went to deliver news of the returned Emily Larson.

Metford drove to the campground, and Ava didn’t like being on the passenger side at all on the narrow, winding road. She tensed every time he had to move over to allow traffic to pass in the other direction. She thought she might pass out from the sudden jolt if they went into the ditch. The pain in her side and leg were worse when she sat still. Easy movement, such as walking, seemed to help keep it under some kind of control.

Ranger Alcott’s vehicle was parked near the entrance of the gravel lot, but he wasn’t in it. “Looks like we’re not the only ones refusing sleep in lieu of keeping the masses safe,” Ava said.

“Alcott’s a good man. I’m surprised he didn’t go back up to be with Jenkins, Parker, and Senn.”

“Probably knew he’d only be in the way. They had a whole crew heading up there. Hannah’s there, too. She’s just as good a ranger as Alcott, in my opinion.”

He chuckled. “She’s definitely got an air of authority about her when she’s finally had enough.”

They each had a sketch of the man. Metford had printed Haggerty photos to go with the sketches. He tried again to hand one to Ava, but she refused.

“Suit yourself, but I’m using mine.”

“I don’t want to plant the picture of someone in their heads when we don’t know for sure that’s a good likeness. If they think the guy looks just like your printout, they might not say who the sketch reminds them of. No wiggle room, you know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want wiggle room; I want to catch the guy. You know he’s likely the culprit in the murders because it sure wasn’t the Grizz we took in earlier. Wasn’t that wasp he called a wife, either. I bet she could whip a barroom full of women.”

“Probably could whip ten men to boot,” Ava said. “Little and violent.” They crossed the road and stepped onto the campground area. “You go talk to the mass of followers; I’m going to find Lori Haynes and speak with her.”

“Got it,” Metford said.

They split ways. Ava headed for the bus. The back door was open and all the windows were open. Lori sat with her legs dangling out of the back. She looked up at Ava, almost smiled, stopped the expression, and huffed mightily as she pushed off and landed on her feet.

“What now?” she asked without even the pretense of civility. Her swollen eyes and bruised face stood as testaments to the recent riot. No way she could hide that she’d been there and involved.

Ava held out the sketch. “You know this man?”

A man and woman made their way to the open back door and peered out curiously. Ava motioned for them to get out.

“You two, look at the sketch.”

Lori hid the sketch against her stomach and chest. “What do you want with him?” She gave the man and woman a sideways glance and shook her head. It was a tiny movement, but the two didn’t even try to look at the sketch afterward.

“That’s FBI business. I’m just asking if you know him, and I take it that you do from your reaction. What’s his name?”

Lori stared at her silently.

“We already know he’s one of your group, Lori. Just tell me his name.”

“Fine. It’s Liam Fenton. Everybody calls him Razor, though.” She shoved the sketch back to Ava without showing it to the others.

Ava took it and immediately turned it so the man and woman could see. They looked familiar, but she passed it off. She’d seen most of the activists over the last week. Multiple times.

They shared a look and their faces darkened. Both looked away. They knew something. They wanted to say something, but they didn’t because Lori was in charge, and they seemed to follow her lead.

“Liam Fenton,” Ava repeated, taking time to scribble the name on the paper. “Why do they call him Razor?”

“Just do,” Lori said, shooting a look at the other two.

Ava looked from Lori to the other two. It finally clicked who they were. She recognized them as Chucky Silvers and Selma Collins. She had met them before, and they voiced their opinion that the logging crew had done something to Emily in retaliation for the first fracas in town.

“Mr. Silvers, isn’t it?” Ava asked, looking at the man.

“That’s me, yeah.”

“What do you know about Razor Fenton?”

“Chucky,” Lori said with a warning tone.

Chucky looked from her to Ava and stepped to the side, closer to Ava. “She doesn’t want to say anything bad about anyone in the group, but Liam has had some mental issues in the past. He saw a doctor and seemed to be getting better.”

Selma stepped over, too. “We all thought he was, anyway.”

Lori turned her back and put her hands on her hips as she dropped her head.

“It’s okay, Lori,” Chucky said. “If he’s done something, I don’t want it to come back to bite the whole group later.”

“And if he’s done nothing, there’s nothing to worry about,” Selma added.

“Continue,” Ava said to Chucky. “Please.”

“He just had this idea that he was one with the wildlife. At first, we all thought he meant it the way we do. I mean, we’re one with nature, but not like he meant it. He meant it literally. That he was able to morph into an animal.”

“Oh, Chucky, just say it already,” Selma interrupted. “He has this bear pelt and paws that he puts on. They’re fake, of course. Not from a living animal or anything, but he puts them on and says that he turns into the bear—the most misunderstood predator in the world, he says.” She curled her fingers into semblances of claws and raised her arms.

“When some of us questioned him about it, he said it was just his way of getting in touch with his animal nature,” Chucky said.

“No, he said it was his way of getting in touch with his wild side,” Selma corrected.

“Yeah, that’s it. Wild side.”

Ava jotted notes. “Do either of you know how he got the nickname?”

“Razor?” Chucky asked. “Yeah. He got that name when he was in a mental facility several years ago. He was sharp-witted. He laughed about it because the doctors said it was in all the wrong ways. The criminal minds way.”

“Being sharp-witted earned him the moniker?”

“That and his penchant for all sharp weapons,” Chucky said.

Selma nodded. “He talked about it for a year at our meetings, but like we said, he seemed to be getting better.”

“Why would you think differently now?” Ava asked.

“Why do you think we do?” Chucky asked.

“Because you keep saying it. You thought he was getting better. What’s happened to make you think he’s not getting better now?”

Selma’s face reddened. “He’s just been getting all jazzed-up again when we have meetings about animal cruelty. Just since we’ve been here, though. He wasn’t like that before we got here. Not for a year and a half anyway.”

Chucky shifted uneasily and looked toward the woods away from the campground. Ava noted the numerous glances away from the main area.

“Lori,” she said. “We have news about Emily Larson, as well.”

Lori turned, her face melting into a mask of worry and dreadful hope. “Oh, God, she’s not…”

“No, no. She’s been found, and she’s alive. She’s in the hospital.”

Just as Ava had figured, there were tears a-plenty. All three people cried and hugged. It wasn’t long before one of the other activists came to see what was going on and why her friends were crying. Lori told her, and they walked back to the main group together. Chucky and Selma turned to walk away, but Ava stopped them.

“What’s over there, Chucky?” She lifted her chin in the direction that had drawn so many looks from him.

Wiping his eyes and cheeks, he looked there again. “He spends a lot of time over there.”

“Fenton?”

Chucky nodded. “Near the creek. I can show you.”

Ava called for Metford, and they followed Chucky into the woods.

Chucky led them a couple hundred feet into the woods, and Ava stopped him. “Is it close?”

“Yeah, just up that trail and to the right a little. There’s a little sandbar at the side of the creek. He…uh…fishes there.” He took another step to lead the way, but Ava stopped him again.

“When was he here last?”

“Probably there now. He’s not back at camp.”

“Then, I think we have it from here. You go back to the others.” She stepped aside to let him pass.

“He’s probably harmless. I have a pretty good idea what you think he did, but he’s never hurt anyone since he’s been with us.”

“Probably isn’t good enough,” Ava said. She watched until he had passed out of sight. “Okay, don’t assume this man isn’t dangerous. If we’re right, he could be lethal. With mental issues at play, we don’t know how he’ll react if he sees us. Let’s go.” She stepped in front of Metford and led the way. Even with her injuries, she didn’t want to be anywhere but on the front line.

The creek gurgled soothingly fifty feet ahead, covering the noise of their footfalls. It also would cover the sound of anyone walking up behind them, Ava feared.

Then the creek was in view, and so was the little sandbar Chucky had mentioned. Ava stopped and pointed to the creek.

A hefty man was on the sandbar, back to them, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He wore the pelt and front paws they’d heard about. He swiped his hand through the water and cursed. He swiped again and again in rapid succession. He was trying to skewer a fish with the claws on his right hand and cursing when he came up empty after every powerful swipe.

She and Metford drew guns and spread out.

Ava called, “Liam Fenton, FBI. We need to speak with you.”

Fenton stood and spun toward them, eyes narrow and cunning at first, and then wide and wild.

“Fenton, turn around and step back toward me,” Ava ordered.

Fenton turned slowly so his back was to them again.

“Walk back, Fenton,” she urged. “Don’t even think about running.”

And he didn’t just think about running; he did it. Water splashed up to his waist when he jumped from the sandbar and didn’t quite clear the creek. He clawed at the far bank as Ava and Metford went in after him.

He was in the wind before they made the sandbar. “You won’t cage and kill me like you did my brothers,” his voice echoed back to them.

Climbing out of the water, Ava gave chase, leaving Metford far behind. As she cut through undergrowth and followed the sound of Fenton’s maniacal laughter, she became aware that someone was running behind her. Thinking it was probably Metford, she continued without looking back.

Fenton scrambled up an incline using all fours. Ava sucked in a breath and did the same. It was steep and took all her effort to climb with enough speed to keep him in sight. Metford was on her heels as she topped the hill and launched after Fenton when he disappeared into a blind of laurels. She halted. Not Metford stopped beside her, and she startled when she turned, expecting to see her partner but didn’t.

“Alcott,” she said as her hand went for her gun. “Dammit, I almost drew on you. He went in there.”

“I saw.” He kept his voice to a stage whisper. “I’ll go wide right. Sheer rock wall behind him. Fifty-foot drop to your left. Nowhere to go.”

Ava glanced to her left and swallowed over the lump in her throat. It didn’t look like a drop-off. It looked like the downside of a hill. Danger lay everywhere in the woods of Acadia, it seemed.

She nodded and they moved toward the thicket.

They closed in, and something rustled in the thicket a heartbeat before Fenton burst from the cover and charged at the opening between them. Ava tried to shunt right, but her thigh burst into bright flames of pain at the sudden strain, and she stumbled. Fenton got past her. She took off after him, but Alcott had already taken the lead, flying through the underbrush and ducking saw-briars as if he knew where every leaf and stem were located and had committed the locations to memory.

Fenton ran on the trail, following the deep sleepy C-curve. Alcott leaped off the path and crashed through the tall greenery. Ava remained on the trail. To the left of the trail was another wall of rock that couldn’t be scaled. Fenton could only stay on the trail until another path presented itself to him. Ava understood that Alcott meant to get in front of Fenton, and she pushed her legs harder. With every footfall, the fire in her thigh burned a little brighter. The warmth spreading there was thick and soaked into her pantleg. The stabbing pain in her side was no fun, either. If the rib hadn’t been a risk before, she could almost bet it would be by the time she was finished chasing Fenton.

Fenton started into another C-curve. It wasn’t as leisurely in its bend as the last one. Alcott was almost to the trail in front of the man. Fenton stopped and turned to run back up the mountain. Ava was there. Forty feet from him. He snarled and held up the paws. He opened his mouth and roared. Ava stopped and drew her gun.

“Fenton, stop running. You’re done,” she said, out of breath and feeling faint.

The man turned away and took two running steps before Alcott sprang from the side of the trail and tackled him. They went down hard and rolled. Locked in battle, the men kicked up a cloud of dust. Ava jogged to them and yelled for Fenton to stop. She couldn’t run more; it was beyond the capabilities of her body. She held the gun straight up and fired once.

The men’s struggle stopped, and both looked up. Alcott took advantage of the moment, and flipped Liam over. Ava dropped to her good knee and grimaced as the shockwave jolted the rib. “Cuff him,” she said to Alcott.

“Done and done,” he said, standing. He ripped off the bear paws and left Fenton with both hands behind his back and connected to his left ankle with a long zip-tie. “You’re bleeding.” He pointed to her leg. “Bleeding pretty bad.”

Ava tried to laugh. Only a rush of very dry, very harsh air came out. “Where’s your handy dandy first-aid kit when I need it?” She holstered her gun.

He took off his uniform shirt and tied it around her thigh. He was lean and muscled. The sun glinted off his sweat-slicked shoulders in a way that tickled Ava’s fancy. Later, she would tell herself that it was just the amount of exhaustion and pain she was dealing with, but for that moment, she simply took in the fine sight.

“We make a good team,” he said, smiling at her.

“Pretty good, yeah,” she said. “Now, can we please get out of Acadia?”

“That’s your call.” He shrugged.

“I don’t even know where we are, or which direction to take to get back to the car.”

“Good thing you got a ranger with you, then,” Alcott said. “Want me to escort him?”

“Thank you,” she said. “Let’s get back to town.”

“Your partner is back there somewhere. Hope we don’t have to send out a search party for him.”

Ava laughed lightly. It hurt. “We’ll run into him on our way out. He wasn’t that far behind.”

When Ava and Alcott arrived at the sheriff’s office, she took Liam to a holding cell. The officer opened the cell, Ava nudged him to go in. He stepped to the right, and the officer blocked him.

“In the cell, Fenton,” Ava said, putting her hand in the small of his back and pushing.

Fenton went cursing and ranting. The officer closed and locked the door.

“You can’t just leave me in here cuffed!” he yelled.

“Until you settle down, I can,” Ava replied, turning away.

“You didn’t even book me!” he screamed at her. “This is unlawful imprisonment! I know my rights!”

Ava turned the corner and opened the door.

“You gonna leave him in there like that all night?” the officer asked.

“I’ll be back. He’ll be fine for now. Start the booking process if he calms down, but don’t take off those cuffs expecting he’ll play nice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Where will you be? In case I need you.”

“Questioning the Grangers.”

“Your friends are doing that already. They have been for hours now.”

“The other agents?”

He nodded. “Interview room. You know where it’s at?”

“Yes, thank you.” Ava wanted to take a few deep breaths and have a minute to herself, but there wasn’t time.

Metford met her in the lobby. “Interview room—”

“Yep. I heard.” Feeling like the bottom of a dragged-out barrel, she turned down the hall to the room.

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Metford asked.

“Not right now, anyway.”

They made the end of the hall and Metford stopped. “Hey.”

Ava halted with her hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“You and Alcott…”

“What, Metford?” she asked, losing the little patience that remained.

“You two did good together, huh? And he got you both back out of Acadia safe.”

She nodded. “The point?”

“Nothing, I guess. Just…I’m glad you’re all right. It’s good he was out there. I lost sight of you quick. I…” He pointed to a long muddy streak down the side of his pants and shoe. “Fell down a hill. Slid down, actually.”

Ava looked at the mud stain. “I need to get in there. You coming?”

“Nah. No, I need to go do something else.” He turned.

Ava had never seen him act that way before. “Hey, since you don’t really have something you need to do, and you’re making excuses to avoid me for some reason, go book Fenton, why don’t you? That’d be great. Thanks.” She turned and pulled the door open without waiting for an answer.

Dane and Santos stood at opposite ends of the table looking weary and frustrated. Santos motioned for Ava to join her outside.

“What’s up?” Ava asked.

“We’ve been at this for hours. They’re clammed up tight and won’t give us anything. All we know is that they’ve been cooking meth up there for about a year. The marijuana? They been doing that for three now.”

“And no one knew about the place?”

“Apparently not. If they did, they didn’t say anything to police about it.”

“What about shooting the bears with drugs, anything?”

“Not a word that wasn’t denials or oaths of innocence.”

“Get Dane and take a break. I’ll talk to them in a minute.”

Ava went to booking and told Metford to collect and bring all the evidence that had been found on the Grangers’ property and all the evidence from the bears’ autopsies.

“Before or after I get Fenton booked in?”

“Now. I need it now, Metford.” She walked away with a limp.

“You should really go clean up first. You’re bleeding everywhere,” he called after her.

She eyed Alcott’s shirt still tied around her thigh. The blood had seeped through to the outermost layer of the fabric. Metford was right.

A female officer stepped out of a room, and Ava hailed her. “I know it’s an odd request, but do you have extra clothes around here? Some pants I could borrow? And maybe some bandages, too?”

The woman’s puzzled look turned to shock when Ava pointed out the blood under the makeshift bandage. “Dear god, hold on. Do you need me to call the doctor?”

“No, I just need a change of clothes and bandages.”

“There are some Glencoe sweats that we sell during festivals—”

“Sweats? That’s perfect. Could you run and get them for me really fast?”

The woman confirmed and rushed down the other hall.

“And don’t forget the bandages.”

“Right, right. Be back in a jiffy.”

The officer was gone around the far corner, and for a brief window of time, Ava was left blessedly alone. Taking a seat on a wood-slat bench, she breathed, and felt all the pains in her body.

The officer returned with the sweats and a large first-aid kit. She offered to help Ava dress the wound, but Ava refused.

Fifteen minutes later, Ava stepped into the interview room where Travis and Marlene Granger had been cooling their heels for most of day. They looked uncomfortable, tired, and like they both had some pains of their own. Travis did for sure, and Ava was glad. She usually wasn’t mean-spirited about hurting people, but she was glad she had shot him in the leg and stabbed him in the side. Landing a solid boot to the nuts was just icing on the cake at that point.

He looked ashamed as she took her seat. Marlene just looked pissed and ready to fight again, although Ava saw that her arm was in a soft brace. She had probably nearly dislocated it trying to get away from Metford. Ava simply did not have it in her heart to care that they were hurt.

“Travis and Marlene,” she said, looking through the file at a leisurely rate.

“Yes,” they said in unison with matching flat tones.

“You’ve been on that mountain for quite a while from what I hear.”

They said nothing.

“How long have you lived up there?”

“Few years,” Travis said.

Ava bobbed her head but didn’t look up from the file. “You know that you’re in a lot of trouble here, right?”

“But we didn’t do nothing,” Marlene said.

Ava looked at her, shocked. “Nothing? That’s really what you’re saying to me right now, that you didn’t do a thing wrong?”

“We didn’t kill nobody, smartass,” Marlene shot back. “Of course we did the drug part, but growing ain’t exactly killing anybody.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ava chuckled despite the pain in her side. “What about cooking meth? That ever kill anybody? Or, what about selling that pot to kids around here? That ever kill anybody?”

“Pot never killed nobody,” Marlene said, crossing her arms and jutting out her chin.

“Right. Okay. What about that meth?”

Travis cringed and laced his sausage fingers together on the table.

“Oh, that makes you uncomfortable, but you weren’t uncomfortable when you were doing this to me, were you, Travis?” She lifted her chin to show the bruising on her neck.

“That was different, and you know it,” he said in a low, rumbling voice.

“No, it wasn’t. You’re both liars, drug-manufacturing liars, who would kill anyone that got in your way.” Anger reared its scaly head, and she fought to keep it under control.

“You were on our property and shooting at us,” he bellowed defensively. “Would you have done any different if you were us?”

“Yeah, for starters, I wouldn’t have been cooking and growing drugs up there. For another thing, I would have been smart enough not to try killing a federal agent and shooting two cops. Let’s not forget about that booby trap that might cost Officer Jenkins his leg from the knee down. Who made that thing? It was you, wasn’t it, Travis?”

“We don’t know nothing about booby traps,” Marlene said with finality.

“But you do know about the shooting, Marlene. Deputy Parker is in the ICU one room down from Jenkins. If they die—”

“We’re not like that!” Travis shouted. “We were defending ourselves! We didn’t know what was going on.”

Ava bit her tongue. Her temper was dangerously close to getting her into trouble. The kind that might send her to jail. She stood and walked out.

“Ava,” Santos said outside the door. “What the hell? You okay?”

“Maybe you should let us back in there,” Dane suggested.

“No. I’m fine. Where’s Metford?” she asked loud enough that her voice bounced around the empty hall.

“Getting the stuff you asked for,” Santos said.

“What’s taking him so long?” She walked to a narrow window and peered out as if she might see him in the parking lot.

“He’s only been gone a half-hour. It’ll be a few before he can get all that evidence together and get back.”

Ava turned on her heel and went back in the room. “Why did you shoot up those two bears?” she asked as she strode to the table. “You know two people are dead because of that stupid stunt, don’t you? Real people with real lives, real families that are devastated. Because of what you did, this town has been turned upside down and ripped apart. Now, why? Why did you do it?”

“We didn’t shoot up—” Marlene started.

“Yes!” Ava shouted, cutting her off. She slammed her hand on the table. “We have the evidence, Lynxie. We have the autopsy reports for David and Laura Harris, the necropsy reports of the two bears, and the vials of drugs and the tranq gun from your cabin.” Her elbows quivered with anger and adrenaline.

Travis and Marlene looked at each other. Marlene tilted her head toward Ava and Travis shook his head once. She nodded and turned to Ava with tears in her eyes.

“Enough of this. I can’t take anymore.”

“Lynxie,” Travis said. “Don’t.”

“Oh, Grizz, what are we gonna do, keep denying everything?” She turned a regret-filled gaze to Ava. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Take a step in the right direction, Marlene.”

The door opened and Metford carried a box in.

Ava motioned to a spot near her arm on the table. “Travis, Marlene, this is just part of what we have that incriminates you in the death of the Harrises. We can’t pin first-degree murder on you, or I would.” She displayed the items one by one, naming them off as she took them from the box.

She picked up the partially empty vials of ketamine and xylazine and held them at eye level as she sat. “These drugs right here were in those two bears along with meth. You cut your meth with them?”

Travis squeezed Marlene’s fingers tighter when a small sob escaped her. She jerked her hand free.

“Oh, and this isn’t nearly all we have. Did I mention that your friend, Ray Benson, Spooky as you call him, agreed to testify against you when all this goes to trial?”

Marlene gasped. It was a watery sound as she clamped a hand over her mouth, her fingertips biting into her skin.

“That’s right. Good old Ray. With friends like that… Well, you know the rest.”

Marlene broke into sobs and told everything in a rush of guilt-fueled tears. “We just wanted to keep people away. We thought the bears would run around and scare a bunch of people so they wouldn’t want to wander too far off the trails. We didn’t need any explorers stumbling around up there,” she cried.

“Marlene, for once, shut your trap, you idiot,” Travis said, but he made no move to get physical with her.

“Don’t call me an idiot, you oaf. It was you who brought up the idea after you watched that stupid movie about a bear eating coke. It was you who asked around until you found out about the Special K and the Philly dope.”

Something that sounded like a sob emanated from the man. His huge, bearded face was unreadable. Ava slowly packed the bagged evidence back into the box. Let them eat each other alive for all she cared.

After a few more minutes, Travis was crying, too. It wasn’t the big, showy tears like his wife, but rather, a slow leak down both woolly cheeks.

“We’re not violent people, really. You have to believe us on that,” he said in a cracking voice.

“We’re not,” Marlene agreed.

“Like she said, we just wanted to scare people and keep them away from our place. We didn’t have any idea the bears would go so far, and we really didn’t think they’d go kill a couple of hikers and rampage through town tearing up hell. Oh, Jesus,” he said, burying his face in his hands.

Marlene pressed her face to his meaty arm and sobbed. “We’re good people. Not as good as some, but we’re good people. We just made bad choices, right, baby?” She directed the last at him.

“Things just got way out of hand real quick, like an avalanche. We didn’t even mean to be in this business so long. I was supposed to have already taken you out of it and off that mountain,” he said to her. To Ava, he said, “We got swallowed up by the business, and by the need to keep people away. We made a stupid decision, and we’re going to live with that for the rest of our lives. We really are decent people, though. This whole thing with the shooting and whatnot, that was just a huge misunderstanding. We’d never hurt anybody on purpose unless we were defending our lives.”

Ava let the last of the evidence thump into the box and motioned for Metford to remove it. She sat. “Good people? You’re not very good people. You’re exceptional at lying to yourself and everyone else, but that’s all it is: a lie. You’ve been selling drugs to townspeople for years. You drugged up a couple of wild bears that went on to brutally tear two innocent people apart, tear up town, kill pets and livestock, so no, you are not good people. As for the violence…” She lifted her chin and then stood and pointed to her thigh. “I’m a testament to your non-violent nature, I suppose. And there are three very seriously injured cops who got to see your true natures as well. I’m sure you aren’t violent people. There are just tons of character witnesses to that effect. Like Emily Larson, right? You nearly killed that girl. She was obviously in dire need of help, and what did you do? Beat on her and tied her up while you discussed the pros and cons of killing her.” She turned to leave. “We have what we need for now. We’ll talk again soon.”

Metford opened the door for her, and they left together, taking the box with them.

Ava had been with the Grangers for over an hour when she left them, and Liam Fenton still awaited questioning.

Metford set the box on a table in the viewing room. Ava stood in the doorway long enough to announce that she was going to speak with Fenton.

“I ran his background while you were in there,” Dane said.

“You ran Fenton?” Ava asked. Exhaustion and pain had taken over and she hadn’t thought to tell them to do so.

“I did. He’s not a good character. No redeeming factor that I can find.” She gave Ava the reports.

“Well, he likes animals and fights for their rights,” Santos said doubtfully.

“That’s not even going to put a dent in the bad karma he’s got coming,” Dane assured them.

“Thanks,” Ava said. She left without joining the chitchat.

As she walked, she read over the extensive file on Fenton. The man was a big bucket of suck as far as she could see. Everything in his past had been violent.

Metford and Santos caught up to Ava.

“What are you doing?” she asked them.

“Thought you might want someone in there with you,” Metford said. “Good cop, bad cop. Like old times?”

She looked to Santos.

“Observing and anything you need me to do.”

Ava smiled wanly and walked on with them in tow. Why was her team acting so oddly? After ten steps, she figured it out. Because she was injured. Any other time, she would have barked about them treating her as if she were an invalid, but at the moment, she didn’t feel like barking. Not at her team, anyway.

They booked Fenton and took him to the interview room. Ava didn’t let him sit across the table with his hands cuffed in front. She took her cuffs and linked them to his and anchored him to the bar on the edge of the table instead. No way she could handle another altercation in the shape she was in.

“Liam, it says in here that you killed two people in the past,” Ava said, feeling the weariness settle into her soul.

“Yep. Never denied it. I did. I’d do it again, if things turned out that way, but they won’t. ’Cause they’re dead, and the dead don’t come back.”

“No, they don’t, Liam. That’s true. It says one of those you killed was your father.”

Liam tight-lipped the reply, and his face worked like worms lived under the skin.

“Did you murder your own father, Liam?”

He jerked his head forward in semblance of a nod, and his brows drew down.

“Why did you do that? It says you never told why you did it.”

He threw back his head and laughed maniacally. “I’m one with my wild side, and the bear is the symbol of that symbiosis.” He fell silent and shot forward. “Can I have my fur and paws back? A bear ain’t a bear without his fur and claws.”

“We’re testing them. You don’t need them anymore, Liam.”

“Testing them for what?”

“Blood.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of that on the claws. That’s what I hunt and fish with when I’m a bear. That’s what bears do; they kill with their claws.” He snarled and curled his fingers into claws and then laughed boisterously again.

“Liam, are you on any substances right now?”

“The substance of nature, of symbiosis.”

“Pot, meth, uppers, downers, what are you on?” She wanted him to sit still and speak in a way that she could find useful.

“I don’t need drugs, woman,” he exclaimed, looking offended. “Surrendering to your wild, untamed nature will give you the fattest high you ever had. It could cure the worst junkie in the world, if they’d only listen to Uncle Razor. But they won’t. Nope.”

“Razor. How’d you get that name?”

“Killed my daddy with a big ole knife. Three of them, actually now that I think back on it. Yeah, that’s it. I killed Daddy with three knives, but knives aren’t razors, are they?”

“No, they’re not.”

“But those ones that look like a fat pen with a triangle blade for ink, they are razors. That’s what I used.”

Ava pondered the idea longer than she should have. “An Exacto Knife?”

“Yep, that’s it. Mama used them for her crafts and stuff, and I did, too. She was gone by that time, though. Daddy wasn’t, but then he was.”

“You did crafts?” He was astonishingly good at being confusing and talking in circles. She feared she would have to give up the interview if she couldn’t get him sorted out.

“On Daddy, yeah. Some men do ‘dude-crafts,’ and I did Dad-crafts.” The delirious laughter rang out again.

Metford’s phone rang, and Liam imitated it.

“Got the prelims back on your claws, Liam.”

“Woo-hoo,” he exclaimed. “Can I have them back now?”

“No.” He turned to Ava. “Human blood. And the claws are made of hickory. Whittled into sharp points and sanded until they were perfectly deadly and smooth.”

“I made them myself. Took me the better part of a summer, but they’re good, right? You like them, don’t you?”

“There was a significant amount of human blood on the claws, paws, and fur,” Metford said. “So, no, I don’t like them. Who’d you use them on, Liam?”

Fenton held up two fingers and grinned like a mischievous child.

“Two people?” Metford asked.

Fenton nodded, and his grin widened as he wiggled around in his seat as if it were too hot to sit on.

“Which two people?” Ava asked.

“That stupid chainsaw jockey was first. He was happy as a clam in mud up there cutting down all the trees and destroying the natural habitat for animals in Acadia.” Liam’s demeanor change was sudden and complete. He let his face relax to a natural state, cleared his throat, and put both feet on the floor. After sighing deeply, he cocked an eyebrow at them. “What else you need to know?”

“Who was the other person you killed while wearing the bear outfit?” Ava asked. It was a question she would have never thought of in a million years if it hadn’t been for the case at hand.

“That nasty hiker who was tossing his snack and food wrappers all over the forest; slinging soda cans into the underbrush, plastic water bottles into the creek.” He sucked air through his teeth. “Disgusting nature lovers. They don’t know shit from Shinola about protecting nature. They only want the attention; want to beat their chests in public and cry foul at the way humans keep destroying the world.”

“And what does that make you, the great defender of nature?” Metford asked.

“As a person containing the spirit of a bear, yes. It’s my duty to defend nature wherever and whenever I see someone desecrating our wild places. Call it revenge, if that makes you feel better, but it’s the same as self-defense. If they keep destroying the world of the animals, eventually, I’ll die as a result.” He splayed his fingers. “Self-defense. And then you all murdered my brothers, cut them up, and burned the carcasses. That wasn’t right.” Some of the agitation returned to his movements, and his eye twitched uncontrollably.

“You mean the two bears that killed the couple?” Ava asked.

“They were only doing what animals do.” More agitation surfaced until Fenton was writhing in his seat again. “People shouldn’t go where animals live and expect it to be okay. Animals have a right to be territorial.” He leaned forward and screamed, “Leave them alone! Leave their homes alone! Leave me alone!” Then he raised his face and howled.

“The bears being killed triggered him,” Metford said to Ava.

“Damn tootin’ it triggered me, mister. That was the last, and I mean the very last straw for me. I felt their deaths on a personal…no, on a spiritual level. The bears were innocents in all this. They were blameless, yet they paid the ultimate price. Just like when I went to the kook-shop for killing Daddy. I was only twelve. Blameless. But I paid the ultimate price, too.”

“You weren’t blameless, Liam. You killed your father. Murdered him with three knives. That takes dedication. It wasn’t an accident; you meant to do it.”

He spewed the list of egregious abuse perpetrated upon him by his father from the age of five until he was twelve. “And that’s what makes me innocent, blameless in his death. I was a child who was defending myself because nobody else would. And the bears, and all the animals out there that nobody will defend. It’s my duty to do it for them. I defended myself, but they’re not able, so I do it for them.”

“You might be innocent in your own eyes, Liam Fenton, but the justice system disagrees,” Ava said. “You are under arrest for the murder of Daryl Mercer and Alex Ramirez.”

Ava raised a hand to Alcott and ended her call with Sal. She slid the phone into her back pocket. Putting her arm back just that far still hurt like crazy, but with the painkillers from Dr. Fernando, it wasn’t quite as bad.

The sun bathed all of Glencoe in warmth, and when a low breeze stirred her hair, Ava smiled. Alcott made it to where she sat on a sidewalk bench and joined her. His smile was warm as the sun and twice as inviting.

“It’s been a week now, isn’t that rib feeling any better?”

“Some, yeah.”

“I saw how you cringed when you put up your phone.” He looked into the distance above her head.

The sunlight caught his eyes at just the right angle to turn them a crystalline amber. Ava liked the square set of his chin and the sharp line of his jaw. Maybe she had a type after all. It seemed she preferred bold, square, strong faces to the narrow ones.

Just like Jason’s.

The thought shook her, and she pulled her attention away from Alcott’s charming good looks and his inviting smile. “Yeah, maybe I’m just being a big wimp right now.”

“How much longer are you going to be here?”

“Leave tomorrow morning. That was my boss on the phone. She needs me back to work on an ongoing case. Says it’s important.”

“Aren’t they all?” He tilted his head to the shop behind them. “I hear that all law enforcement has the same weakness.”

“Really?” She was amused. “And what’s that?”

“Coffee and donuts. Is that true? Does every cop love coffee and donuts?”

“Maybe.” She laughed.

“What about you?”

“I do, but I don’t get them nearly often enough.”

“Really?” He pretended to think while he counted on his fingers. “I know that I brought you nine large cups of coffee over the last few days. That wasn’t enough?”

She shook her head and her smile stretched. She had so missed bantering with someone other than family or coworkers.

“I have a quick fix for that, I think. Interested?”

“Possibly,” she teased.

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound like you’re very interested.” He inhaled deeply and looked toward the far mountains again.

“Okay, probably,” she said.

He stood quickly and held out a hand for her to take. “Well, that settles it. That’s about as interested as I’ve heard you sound about anything since you’ve been here.”

“That’s not true.” But it was. Other than the cases that rained down on her head, she hadn’t been very interested in anything, and she’d been exhausted on top of being badly injured.

“Oh, that’s right. You were interested in arguing with the nurse who tried to stitch up that leg for the second time. You were very passionate and vocal about everyone leaving you alone for eight hours so you could sleep, and then—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” she said through laughter. “I get the picture. I’m an unbearable curmudgeon.”

His laughter died and he stood with his hand out to her. “No, you’re not. Not at all.”

She allowed Alcott to lead her into The Heavenly Brew coffee shop. He had made a particular effort to be wherever she was for days. Even insisted on taking her to pick up her meds at the pharmacy. He played chauffeur whenever she needed to go somewhere, and carried her coffee and food so often that she hadn’t had to order a single meal for herself in three days.

And she liked it. The attention, the companionship.

Alcott led her to a round table near the back. She liked the spot. She might have taken the booth in the corner, if she were making the decisions, but then again, maybe not. The table was nice. Maybe she didn’t always have to have her agent brain engaged. Maybe it was possible to simply accept life’s little joys as they were offered.

He held her seat for her, and she smiled at the gentlemanly act that was so lost on people nowadays.

A waitress appeared before he was in his seat. She set a plate and an enormous cup of coffee in front of Ava. She beamed. “You get the Pearly Gate special.” She was gone before Ava could respond.

On the plate sat the largest donut she’d ever seen. The glaze glistened thickly and ran down onto the plate. The lemon filling spilled out the side. It was glorious. Paired with the forty-ounce black coffee topped with a big fluff of whipped cream, it was perfect.

“Is it to your liking? Will that give you your fill of donuts and coffee for at least a day?” Alcott smiled softly.

“To my liking? It’s glorious. Just perfect. Thank you.”

She pulled the mug close and sipped. A bit of the white fluff stuck to her nose, and they both laughed. She stopped laughing when he swiped it away with his finger playfully. The simple touch shocked something deep inside her. It was something she hadn’t felt since Jason. There was nothing romantic between her and Alcott, though. There had been no back and forth of mixed signals wherein she thought he wanted to marry her one minute and not the next. He was himself. All the time. The only difference being that they had grown a little closer over the last week. It was the simple human contact that had shocked some deep part of her being.

That shock woke her up and cleared her mind so that she understood maybe Dr. Bran had been right all along. Maybe she really did need to open up, put herself out there a little more, and realize that not all people are bad. Some are bad, but most are not.

“Don’t thank me for the sugar and caffeine yet,” he said.

The waitress was back with a short stack of napkins and two forks. “Yeah, Chip didn’t do that. That’s from us.” She pointed to a sign on the wall behind the bar.

ONE COMPLIMENTARY SUGAR RUSH PER DAY FOR ALL LAW ENFORCEMENT.

Ava laughed and nodded. “Never hurts to keep the cops sweetened up. I’ll take it. And thank you.”

“Just so you know, you got the special special. Carter and his crew only get the regular sized stuff. We gave you the extra big for all you’ve done for us here in Glencoe.”

A man in cook’s whites stepped up and slid an arm around her shoulders. “You got free coffee and donuts here for life, Special Agent James. You and all your people.”

The people of Glencoe treated her as if she were one of their own beloved lifelong residents that day. Everywhere she went, the people knew her name and what she had done. The team went through the same treatment, and by the time they were heading home the next morning, they were not as eager to leave as they had been a week prior. Glencoe was a good town with good people. And Ava thought she might just miss it once she was back in the rush of Fairhaven, and knew she would miss it when she had to go back to New York.

It took several days of constant and watchful care, but Ava finally saw signs of life in her snake plant. As she spritzed the leaves, she vowed to take better care of it, and immediately crushed the feeling that she was being silly for saying that out loud to a plant. So what if it was? It was her plant, her life, her crazy.

It took two days to empty the war room of all the maps, files, and boxes from the Housewife Killer case that had nearly ruined her life before it tried to take it completely. She removed any and every item throughout her house, car, garage, and office that reminded her of Jason Ellis, which took another two days of her mandatory injury leave. It was a good way to spend that time, in her opinion. It was helping her heal in more ways than physically.

The physical wounds she had endured in Glencoe would heal whether or not she had cleaned out everything to do with the Housewife case, but her mind, heart, and soul would not have.

On day five, Ava woke to a vibrant feeling that filled every room. It was a light, electrified energy that she had never noticed before.

Walking from room to room, she opened every blind, every sheer, every drape, and pushed up the windows to let in the warm breeze. How long since she’d had the windows open like that? How long since she’d felt safe enough to have them open?

Sunlight flooded every inch of the house, and she smiled.

She didn’t know how long she could sustain the rush of contentment and joy, but she would ride the wave until it crashed.

Three weeks passed, and the feeling endured. Ava was still riding the wave when she returned to Glencoe for the memorial. Mayor Roger Blankenship had been one among many who had called to invite her and the team to attend the memorial. Naturally, they accepted.

It was another sunny day. The sky was high and bright blue. A few fat cumulonimbus clouds lazed in the distance like a herd of grazing sheep, and the town of Glencoe was buzzing with activity.

Signs announced there would be a picnic in the town square afterward, which piqued Metford’s interest. Alcott and Green joined Ava and the team before the main ceremony started.

“They’re sending Jenkins home from the hospital later,” he said to the group.

“What about the leg?” Metford asked. “Did they save it?”

“Barely, but it’s still uncertain. He might lose it if he rejects the bone or gets an infection from the surgeries.”

“What kind of bone did they use?” Dane asked.

“Cadaver,” Alcott said in a whisper so no one else would overhear. “He doesn’t want people to know. Silly, but that’s what he said. So, you’re all sworn to secrecy. He wants to see all of you before you leave again.”

“We went to the hospital several times before,” Santos said. “We’re not going to forget about him.”

“He says he promises not to sleep when you visit this time.”

“Good, because all that snoring…” Santos laughed good-naturedly. “Whew, it was getting to be a real problem.”

The ceremony opened with a word from the mayor, and was followed by a long line of people who took to the mic to remember the victims and the heroes in the latest battle for justice in the small town. Ava suspected nothing so violent had ever happened there before.

The line shortened after an hour. By the bottom of the second hour, the last woman took the mic and walked to the far right of the bandstand they were using as a stage. She pointed to a draped object just off the side of the stage.

She made a short speech about the artisans who helped with it, the person who had come up with the idea for it, and her personal stake in all of it. She thanked everyone who helped solve the cases and get the town back to normal, and then she put down the mic. She raised one hand in a flourish, and two men lifted the heavy fabric off the object.

The air shivered with gasps, oohs, and exclamations of awe. And there were tears. Of course there were tears. Ava had learned that she didn’t always have to leap out the nearest exit when someone cried. People have feelings, and sometimes those feelings are so big they can’t be contained. It would pass. It always did. Just like Glencoe’s grief and horror at the recent events would pass. Maybe a week, or a month, or a year from then, people would walk by the memorial and smile fondly, but a huge chunk of the pain, grief, and horror would be absent.

And that was all right. That’s how it was supposed to be.

The memorial bench had been carved from granite. The names of the victims were engraved and inlaid with gold on the wide top edge of the back. People milled around, running their fingers over the surface, tracing the letters and letting their tears fall.

“You should go see it up close,” Alcott urged Ava.

She shook her head. “When everyone else has seen it. It’s theirs, for them, I don’t want to intrude.”

“That’s crazy. You’re not intruding. If they felt that way, they wouldn’t have invited you. Now, you all need to go get a closer look. I won’t take no for an answer.”

They made their way over as a group. The victims’ names in gold stood out in stark contrast against the black of the granite. What didn’t show as easily were the names engraved along the back, the seat, and the arms of the bench. Ava had to really look to see them, and when she did, she couldn’t unsee them.

Her heart lurched and caught in her throat. To see her name, and the names of every other law enforcement officer who worked the cases engraved deep into that bench was a shock. It was a good shock, but she wished she’d had some warning. Metford grinned ear to ear and puffed out his chest. Dane and Santos beamed proudly. Ava fought to push the lump in her throat away. There were no tears, but she was deeply moved by the gesture, and she would never forget it.

At seven-thirty that evening, while Ava was enjoying an evening in the park, her phone rang. It was Sal. Ava walked away from the group where she had been sipping ginger ale and chatting about country life.

“James,” she said into the phone.

“Ava, are you making it back by morning?”

“We can, yes. Why? What’s happened?” Worry knotted like a tight fist in her gut. Was it the end of that happy, sunny feeling she had been floating on for weeks?

“It’s Reinhold. He’s been calling the office about another case in New York City. He thinks it ties in with the deaths of Lucia and Connor, and he’s anxious to speak with you as soon as possible.”

The art murders cases would haunt her for as long as the Housewife murders would, and for different but equally powerful reasons. The Housewife case had been solved, closed, done. But the art murders were still open, and she didn’t know if they would ever be solved. There were so many factors, so many moving parts, so many different locations and people at play in it that it seemed overwhelmingly impossible that she could ever hope to solve it.

“Like tonight soon or in the morning soon?”

“Morning should be fine. I’m heading home, so if he calls the office, he will have to leave a message.”

“Bright and early, then,” Ava said.

“Bright and early. You know, I don’t know what happened, but I’m really digging this new attitude thing you got going on. Makes me feel like you’re going to be a-okay after all.”

“I am. I will be. See you tomorrow.”

They hung up, and Ava searched out the good feeling again. It was there for her to find, but it was not as light and airy and carefree as before. The reminder that human atrocity awaited her in a few hours was enough to taint it.

After speaking with Reinhold at length, Ava went to Sal’s office.

“I need to go back to New York, and I need to take at least two with me,” she said.

“No. There’s no way I can approve that. Did you see the board out there? And with the money laundering and corrupt officials case that Ashton is working, I need the rest of your team here. Noses to grindstone working hard. I’m sorry, but New York isn’t our case.”

“But it ties into our cases. You know that because you talked to Reinhold several times before I did on this.”

Sal sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers. “God, this job is going to be the death of me. I always thought fieldwork would take me out. A bullet, a fall, something, but no. This job is going to do what the fieldwork couldn’t. It’s going to give me enough stress that I just stroke out right here in my seat one day.” She sat back and grabbed her glasses. “All right. Fine. You go, but you go alone, and you start tomorrow. No lingering around, either. I need you back here pronto. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ava stood, knowing not to stick around long enough for Sal to talk herself out of her decision.

“Call him now and make the arrangements. If he can’t work with that immediacy, you’ll stay and we’ll figure out something later.”

Ava agreed and slipped out the door quickly. Reinhold would work with the immediacy. He had already suggested she get to the city by the next evening if she could.

She booked an early-morning flight and called Reinhold to let him know she would be at the airport by five.

The art murders drew her to them and their mystery as surely as a flame pulls a moth to its death. Knowing it didn’t give her the ability to go against her nature. Not that she wanted to.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for joining me on this journey and for reading Secrets in the Acadia! I hope you enjoyed every twist, turn, and bear-sized scare along the way. There’s something special about writing a story where the untamed wilderness mirrors the raw emotions and challenges of its characters—it’s a wild ride, in more ways than one! But don’t get too comfortable; Ava’s adventures are far from over. In the next installment, The Forgotten Girls, Ava is pulled into the heart of a shocking case involving a murdered Customs and Border Protection agent with too many secrets to keep. As more agents turn up dead in equally brutal ways, the investigation unravels a web of deceit, corruption, and a criminal network desperate to silence anyone who gets in their way. It’s a case that will test Ava’s instincts, resolve, and courage like never before.

Your support and feedback mean the world to me. I love hearing what you adored, what caught you off guard, or even what kept you guessing—it all helps me grow as a writer and keeps me on my toes! If you enjoyed this journey into the wilds of Acadia, I’d be incredibly grateful if you could take a moment to leave a review. Your thoughts not only inspire me but also help fellow readers discover Ava’s adventures.

If you enjoyed the mystery and thrills of this story, you might love diving into Under the Mask, the latest addition to my Dean Steele series. Like Ava, Dean has a knack for untangling mysteries where nothing is as it seems—though his cases take him into very different arenas (quite literally, in this one!). In Under the Mask, Dean witnesses a wrestler collapse in the middle of a match, only to uncover a shocking secret when the mask comes off. As more bodies pile up, Dean goes undercover in the world of professional wrestling, where deception and danger lurk behind every mask. It’s a fast-paced, high-stakes mystery with plenty of surprises that’ll keep you guessing until the final bell.

Thank you for your support and for joining me on this journey. I can't wait to see where our adventures take us next.

Yours,

A.J. Rivers

P.S. If for some reason you didn’t like this book or found typos or other errors, please let me know personally. I do my best to read and respond to every email at mailto:aj@riversthrillers.com

P.P.S. If you would like to stay up-to-date with me and my latest releases I invite you to visit my Linktree page at www.linktr.ee/a.j.rivers to subscribe to my newsletter and receive a free copy of my book, Edge of the Woods. You can also follow me on my social media accounts for behind-the-scenes glimpses and sneak peeks of my upcoming projects, or even sign up for text notifications. I can't wait to connect with you!

Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries by A.J. Rivers

Season One

Book One—The Girl in Cabin 13*

Book Two—The Girl Who Vanished*

Book Three—The Girl in the Manor*

Book Four—The Girl Next Door*

Book Five—The Girl and the Deadly Express*

Book Six—The Girl and the Hunt*

Book Seven—The Girl and the Deadly End*

Season Two

Book Eight—The Girl in Dangerous Waters*

Book Nine—The Girl and Secret Society*

Book Ten—The Girl and the Field of Bones*

Book Eleven—The Girl and the Black Christmas*

Book Twelve—The Girl and the Cursed Lake*

Book Thirteen—The Girl and The Unlucky 13*

Book Fourteen—The Girl and the Dragon’s Island*

Season Three

Book Fifteen—The Girl in the Woods*

Book Sixteen —The Girl and the Midnight Murder*

Book Seventeen— The Girl and the Silent Night*

Book Eighteen — The Girl and the Last Sleepover*

Book Nineteen — The Girl and the 7 Deadly Sins*

Book Twenty — The Girl in Apartment 9*

Book Twenty-One — The Girl and the Twisted End*

Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries Retro - Limited Series

(Read as standalone or before Emma Griffin book 22)

Book One—The Girl in the Mist*

Book Two—The Girl on Hallow's Eve*

Book Three—The Girl and the Christmas Past*

Book Four— The Girl and the Winter Bones*

Book Five—The Girl on the Retreat*

Season Four

Book Twenty-Two — The Girl and the Deadly Secrets*

Book Twenty-Three — The Girl on the Road*

Book Twenty-Four — The Girl and the Unexpected Gifts*

Book Twenty-Five — The Girl and the Secret Passage*

Book Twenty-Six — The Girl and the Bride*

Book Twenty-Seven — The Girl in Her Cabin*

Book Twenty-Eight — The Girl Who Remembers*

Season Five

Book Twenty-Nine — The Girl in the Dark*

Book Thirty — The Girl and the Lies*

Book Thirty-One — The Girl and the Inmate*

Book Thirty-Two — The Girl and the Garden of Bones*

Ava James FBI Mysteries

Book One—Ava James and the Ivy Grove*

Book Two—Ava James and the Forgotten Bones*

Book Three —The Couple Next Door*

Book Four — The Cabin on Willow Lake*

Book Five — The Lake House*

Book Six — The Ghost of Christmas*

Book Seven — The Rescue*

Book Eight — Murder in the Moonlight*

Book Nine — Behind the Mask*

Book Ten — The Invitation*

Book Eleven — The Girl in Hawaii*

Book Twelve — The Woman in the Window*

Book Thirteen — The Good Doctor*

Book Fourteen —The Housewife Killer*

Book Fifteen — The Librarian*

Book Sixteen — The Art of Murder*

Book Seventeen — Secrets in the Acadia

Dean Steele FBI Mysteries

Book One— The Woman in the Woods*

Book Two —The Last Survivors

Book Three — No Escape

Book Four — The Garden of Secrets

Book Five — The Killer Among Us

Book Six — The Convict

Book Seven — The Last Promise

Book Eight — Death by Midnight

Book Nine — The Woman in the Attic

Book Ten — Playing with Fire

Book Eleven — Murder in Twilight Cove

Book Twelve — Under the Mask

A Detective Riley Quinn Pine Brooke Mystery

Book One— The Girls in Pine Brooke*

Book Two — Murder in the Pines*

Book Three — Strangers in the Pines*

Bella Walker FBI Mystery Series

Book One— The Girl in Paradise*

Book Two— Murder on the Sea*

Book Three— The Last Aloha*

Other Standalone Novels

Gone Woman

* Also available in audio