Walking through the trees was like stepping back in time. For as long as she could remember, she’d trodden the same path, ducking under stray branches and skipping over fallen logs. Even the stubbornest worries melted away when she was here.
And those worries had dragged her out of bed at five o’clock this morning. She’d spent an hour going through everything in her studio. Her grandma used to tell her that everything would be here for her whenever she returned. Even though she was five years too late, she’d never been more grateful for what they’d done. Her easels, a pile of old canvases, her brushes, even her tubes of paint were still sitting where she’d left them.
She stopped in the middle of the path, frowning at a commotion in the trees. Before she could decide if it was a bear, Sherlock bolted from between two trees.
He ran straight toward her, only slowing when it looked as though they were going to collide.
“Hey, boy. Where’s your dad?”
Sherlock sat in front of her, tilting his head to the side.
“Does he know you’re here?” It didn’t seem likely that Gabe would let Sherlock roam the forest on his own. There never used to be many bear attacks, but attracting more tourists to a town sometimes brought the bear population closer.
She patted Sherlock’s thick black coat and peered through the trees. Apart from the German Shepherd’s heavy breathing, she couldn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.
Sherlock was wearing a collar but, with no harness or leash, he might not follow her. “Come on, boy. Let’s go back to your house.”
Sherlock woofed, then looked over his shoulder.
Gabe walked toward her with a slight limp. She wondered if he’d hurt his leg trying to catch his dog.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I would have kept Sherlock closer if I’d known you were here. We usually have this trail to ourselves at this time of the morning.”
“I’m fine. I thought Sherlock might have been a bear or a wild animal.”
Gabe patted his dog’s head. “He’s big enough to be a bear. Are you heading down to the lake?”
Natalie nodded. “It’s the best part of the day. Everything is so peaceful on the water.”
“If you’re planning on swimming, be careful. A couple of kids nearly drowned last week.”
“I’m not going into the water. I thought I’d take a few photos of the lake and go for a long walk. It wasn’t comfortable sitting on the plane for so long.”
“Why did you come all the way from Italy to Sapphire Bay?”
“I’m a full-time painter. I need to finish two canvases for an exhibition.”
“You couldn’t do that in Venice?”
Natalie pushed aside the memory of what her studio had looked like after the burglary. “I didn’t feel safe.”
Gabe snapped Sherlock’s leash onto his collar. “And staying here makes you feel safe?”
“It used to.” Her softly spoken words were met with silence.
“I’d better head back to the cottage.” Gabe took a whistle out of his pocket. “Take this. If you need help and you can’t get a cell phone signal, blow it. As long as you’re no more than 400 yards away, Sherlock will hear it and let me know you need us.”
Natalie held the small wooden whistle in her hand. “Did you make it?”
“My dad did. You can give it back to me when you arrive home.”
“It’s nice of you to be worried, but I’ll be okay. I spent most of my childhood in the forest. I won’t get lost.” She held out the whistle, but Gabe didn’t take it.
“There are a lot of people in town for tonight’s concert. You can’t be too careful when you’re on your own.”
Before she could disagree, he was walking along the trail with Sherlock trotting beside him.
She watched them for a few minutes before turning toward the lake. She had no idea why Gabe was living in Sapphire Bay. For someone who’d been a detective, life on the edge of Flathead Lake wouldn’t be all that interesting.
