On our way out of town and up the mountain, we quizzed each other about our day, keeping the topic light. It passed the time, and soon we came upon the twisted pines.
I slowed, looking for the turn-off and quickly spotted it.
Dust bloomed behind us as my car’s tires bit into the dirt road. A quarter mile down, a small clearing appeared. Within it, nestled against the trees, was a small cabin and a barn. A small, fenced pasture came off the side of the latter, and several chickens pecked at the ground. In front of the cabin sat a black truck.
I parked next to it and cut the engine. As we emerged from the vehicle, the cabin’s front door swung open and Toren stepped out, a hunting rifle in his hands. When he saw me, the fierce, dark frown on his face softened to a perplexed scowl, and he propped the gun against the wall of the house.
“Hi.” I smiled and waved.
His scowl remained, and he tipped his head, studying us. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
“We had questions.” Luke stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Mina’s boyfriend, Luke Decker.”
Toren shook his hand. “Toren McCrae.”
My heart stuttered to a halt at Luke’s description of himself. We hadn’t put any labels on our relationship, so to hear him state it so plainly was like a bucket of ice water to the face. I wasn’t mad about it, but it gave me pause.
Gathering my wits about me, I focused on the conversation. There would be time later to dissect Luke’s comment and how I felt about what we were to one another. “Have you talked to Ozzie yet?”
“You mean Detective Quartermaine?” A hint of confusion colored the man’s deep voice.
“Yes, sorry. He’s a friend.”
“No. He was out when I went to the police department. I left a message with the front desk for him, but he hasn’t called. Why?”
“After you left the coffeeshop this morning, I realized I should have asked you a couple of pertinent questions.”
“Such as?” Toren crossed his massive arms. Muscles bulged in his forearms and chest.
My eyes widened slightly. He was not a man I would want to cross. He could probably snap me like a twig with those big hands of his. I swallowed around the sudden lump in my throat. “Um, well, for one, what did the man you encountered looklike?” I knew Walter Shuman. If Toren saw a heavy-set man or one with dark hair, it wasn’t him. Walter was old and slim.
“Older. Probably seventy or so. White hair and a bushy mustache. Skinny.”
I shared a look with Luke. That sounded like Walter.
“Did he say anything to you?” Luke asked.
“Only to tell me to move on when I inquired if anyone was home and that he was fine. He had a rifle, and I wasn’t looking for trouble, so I told him to have a nice day and left.”
“Where was this?” Luke continued.
“Off the Lace River. One of its tributaries. Between here and Skagway.”
I let out a little snort. “That’s a lot of ground to cover, Toren.”
“I have the coordinates written down.” He hooked a thumb toward the door. “I plan to give them to your cop friend.”
“That’s good. Ozzie will appreciate that,” I said. “Could you share them with us as well?”
“Why?” Toren shot back. “You’re not cops.”
“No, but?—”
My argument was cut short by the sound of an engine and the crunch of gravel under tires. I shot an alarmed look at Luke and stepped closer. Toren picked up his rifle again, not helping the nerves suddenly cascading down my spine. Who else would come here? Were we followed? By whom?
Luke grasped my wrist and tucked me behind him, using the corner of my car to shield his body.
A moment later, Ozzie’s police truck broke through the trees.
