Jake slid his fork across the plate with a screech, gathering crust and berries. “Not far. Maybe eleven or twelve miles as the crow flies.”
Annie ran the math. An active male would cover that distance in a day or two, especially one migrating to seek out new territory, but they tended to linger around areas with fresh water, so she’d have to account for that.
“Are there any lakes between Warner and here?”
“Maybe some smaller ones up near the summit.” Jake lifted the last of the crust with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. “But the nearest one of any real size is Lake Lumin, up at the top of the road.”
“Jacob, be a gentleman and carry this poor girl’s bags up to her room,” Laura said, stepping back to the table with a flour-dusted rolling pin in her hands. “I’ll bet she’s tuckered out and might like a nap. I just changed the linens.”
Annie rose from her chair. “Oh no, that’s okay, I can—”
But Laura put a hand on her shoulder and lowered Annie back into her seat. “Don’t you trouble yourself. What you need is an hour of sleep, and you’ll feel like a new woman.”
Jake carried his plate to the kitchen, offered his mother a quick peck on the cheek, and disappeared through the front door, closing it softly behind him.
Laura slid the rolling pin into the sink and Annie cleared her throat in the sudden quiet. “I guess I’ll start looking for tracks at the lake tomorrow, then. I just take the road all the way up?”
Laura flipped on the tap and started scrubbing. “You should probably drive up along the service road north of town. You can park at the gate and hike down along Lewis Ridge.”
Annie’s head tilted. “Doesn’t… doesn’t this road go right to it?”
Laura’s hand paused in its washing, and she nodded, but did not turn to meet Annie’s eyes.
“So, couldn’t I just drive up and park at the end?”
“Honey, I wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Jake’s mother turned at last, hazel eyes hooded. “The man who lives at the end of the road, he’s not… well, he’s…” Laura’s voice trailed away and Annie watched her with interest as she turned back to the sink to resume her scrubbing. “He’s not the friendliest neighbor on the road, I’ll say that, and we can leave it there.”
Annie was most certainly not leaving it there. She needed access to that lake. Nine times out of ten, migrating cougars hopped from body of water to body of water, and it was the only lead she had. She wasn’t about to be scared into hiking miles out of her way just because some grump in the woods wasn’t exactly Mr. Rogers.
“What do you mean?”
Laura sighed and turned to face her again. “Honey, I don’t believe in gossiping, but if you want just the plain facts, a guy no one had ever heard of moved in a few years ago, claiming to be a relative of the folks who owned the place that burned down up there, and frankly, he hasn’t had much to do with folks in town ever since. Jacob managed to get friendly enough with him to fish in the lake on the weekends and swears he’s harmless, but he doesn’t give anyone else the time of day—always driving by with his head down, never so much as a wave or a hello.”
The tap was flowing over the dishes unnoticed, and Laura went on, her wet hands dripping as they flapped with her speech. “And goodness knows why a young man with no family would choose to live way up there in an old boathouse at the end of a dead-end road with no one to talk to. Something’s justoffabout him. Yes”—she nodded firmly—“that’s the word.Off.Everyone thinks so. And if I were you, being a female officer and all, I’d hike around on the trail instead or, at the very least, take Jacob up there with you, just in case.”
Annie could feel her indignation rising, and she shoved one last forkful of pie in her mouth to stop it.
People had a habit of doing that. Underestimating her. And it grated on her nerves every single time it happened. If she had a dollar forevery warning she’d gotten about something completely routine and well within the bounds of the job, she’d have a pretty formidable bank account by now.
It was usually well-intentioned enough. People who didn’t know her took note of her lean frame, and the fine, delicate mouth and chin she’d inherited from her mother, and made all sorts of incorrect assumptions about her capabilities.
Every now and then the warnings had been warranted, when Annie had been led into barns or sheds to face cornered animals, half rabid with panic and ready to lash out with quick claws and teeth, but some grump who lived at the end of the road in an old boathouse? No problem.
“Thanks,” she said, rising from the table and setting her empty plate in the sink, “but I’m sure I can handle him.”
Chapter 3DANIEL
Glass shattered—a singing starburst of sound that broke with it the night silence and the dreamless sleep of the man on his back in the boathouse.
Daniel opened his eyes, his heart thundering with the quick, uneven beat that accompanies sudden fear, but the splintering crash was over as quickly as it had come, and quiet once again filled the room. A few seconds passed, and he lifted his head, turning over the possibility that he had dreamed it—a jolting prelude to yet another nightmare, but the silence was ripe. Full.
Daniel sat up. It was pitch-black in the windowless room, and his panic was thickening it. Already, he could feel his body responding, his breath growing shallow and his pounding heart sending blood rushing past his ears.
Slow down. Use your head. Think.
