Naomi peered out at her daughter.
“No, I should give her space. She’s a lot more careful about who she talks to after the Harpy incident.”
Her face twisted when she spoke Jeremy Hyde’s faux user name. Another knock brought both of their heads up. Darren Holt peeked inside, and Jack’s tail thumped against the floor.
“Am I interrupting?” Darren asked.
“I was just leaving,” Naomi said, rising from her chair. “Thanks again, Thomas. Scout will be so excited.”
“Anytime.”
When Naomi crossed the yard toward her property, Darren set his hands on the table and shot Thomas a wry grin.
“What?”
“Getting friendly with the neighbor, I see.”
“Nothing like that. She wants Scout to tour the station sometime.”
“Well, you’re missing out, Thomas. Naomi’s interested—”
Darren’s mouth dropped open when he laid his eyes on Jack. He took an involuntary step backward.
“Is that a…uh…”
“Yes, Darren. It’s a dog.”
“Thomas, that’s a—”
“Siberian Husky, I believe. He’s a pup, so I figure he has some growing to do.”
Darren stammered.
“Well, he’s damn big right now. Where did you find him?”
“His name is Jack, and I found him a half-mile from your cabin.”
The ranger swallowed.
“That was hanging around my cabin?”
“Down the ridge, yes. It appears an animal took a chunk out of his leg, and he was starving.”
“He looks healthy now.”
“Amazing what a warm meal will do for you.”
Darren eased himself into a chair, one eye fixed on Jack, who watched the ranger with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
“Like I was saying, Naomi has eyes for you.”
“I doubt that.”
“Her eyes grinned like you were her knight in shining armor. You don’t believe me? Ask her out on a date. I guarantee she’ll accept in a heartbeat.”
Thomas tossed the case folder aside and feigned indifference. Had Naomi flirted with him? If she had, he’d missed it.
“Is there a reason you’re here, Ranger Holt? Or did you walk all the way from the cabin just to break my balls?”
Darren removed his baseball cap and wiped his hand across his forehead. At forty-two, the dark-haired ex-cop looked like a grizzled model, his face covered with stubble.
“The state installed new grills to replace those rusty monstrosities. With Independence Day behind us, it’s not as busy. I had an idea for a party. No big deal, just beers and steak. Everybody is invited, of course.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair and set an ankle on his knee.
“And by everybody, you mean me and the Mournings.”
“Interested?”
Thomas stared into the yard. Two canoes drifted across the lake as LeVar pushed Scout along the concrete path to Naomi’s back door.
“Definitely. But I want you to invite LeVar and his sister.”
Darren tapped his fingers against the table. In his eyes, LeVar was still the feared enforcer of the Harmon Kings. After last April’s murder, Darren theorized LeVar trafficked drugs through Wolf Lake and killed Erika Windrow.
“He’s a good kid, Darren. Sit with him and talk, and you’ll see I’m right.”
“You sure he didn’t kill anybody? The Kings have a reputation.”
“Not a chance. LeVar gave me his word.”
“And you believe him?”
“See how good he is with Scout? Does that look like a cold-blooded killer to you?”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Ruth Sims hired LeVar at the Broken Yolk. She harbored prejudices about his background. But now she swears by him, says the boy works harder than anyone she’s hired.”
Darren scratched his neck and set the cap on his head.
“Fine. If you vouch for LeVar, then I trust your judgment.”
“He’s part of the family now.”
“What family?”
“My family—LeVar, the Mournings, Jack. And you, I suppose.”
“As long as I get to be the ragtag member of the family.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“What day works best for you?”
“Probably Wednesday or Thursday. Let me make a few calls, and I’ll get back to you.”
Darren rose and stopped.
“Hey, I read about Lincoln Ramsey in the newspaper. I take it you responded.”
Thomas nodded.
“Did you know Ramsey?”
“Met him a few times. I have an account at the First National Bank. He seemed like a fair guy. Shame he got sick.” Thomas rubbed his chin. “That’s what killed him, right? Because I’ve seen that look in your eye before.”
Thomas pulled his lips tight, lost in thought.
“The daughter swears someone broke into the house and murdered him.”
“Any evidence to support her claim?”
“Nothing. No fingerprints, no sign of a struggle. She heard a thump upstairs and claimed the window slid shut. But she was distraught and could have mistaken the noises for her father dying. As far as the department is concerned, Lincoln Ramsey died in his sleep.”
“That’s good to know. After the Jeremy Hyde case, Wolf Lake can’t handle another murderer.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tuesday, July 14th
3:30 p.m.
Cecilia Bond checked her tow-colored curls in the mirror, gave up on brushing the disorderly locks, and threw a baseball cap on her head. The exhaustion grew each day and threatened to cripple her. Yet she refused to confine herself to the house another day. As she turned out of the bathroom, Duncan set his hands on his hips and blocked the staircase.
“You can’t leave again.”
“Move, Duncan.”
“Not until you come to your senses. You’re not in any condition to walk by yourself.”
She strode up to him.
“Then come with me,” she said, poking her index finger into his chest to stress each word.
“If you get sick, I can’t carry you back to the car. Stay home. There’s a chance someone will—”
She blew out a frustrated breath.
“We’ve waited for a donor for fifteen months. Even if we find one, there are no guarantees.”
“You can’t think that way. I pray every day, and Father Fowler is praying too. You have to believe, Cecilia.”
Cecilia bit her tongue so she wouldn’t yell. Since her diagnosis, Duncan had spent more time at St. Mary’s than at home. Though Duncan attended church every Sunday, she’d considered his faith reserved, thoughtful. Now he burned candles throughout the day, draped rosaries over the bed, and prayed as if he had a direct line to God. He’d become unhinged. It scared her.
She squeezed by and descended the stairs, clutching the rail
