Hell fight tooth and nail
To keep her safe.
When shots are fired, wildlife officer Joe Cash responds to the call and finds himself face-to-face with Skylar Davis and her petwolf. Its Joes job to protect all endangered speciesincluding the pretty vets menagerie of rescues. As the threats intensify, Joe realizes Skylar could be the key to busting a ruthless poaching ring. But shes keeping a secret that could cause more harm than either of them can imagine.
MICHELE HAUF is a USA TODAY bestselling author who has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually feature in her stories. And if Michele followed the adage write what you know, all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at michelehauf.com
Also by Michele Hauf
Storm Warning
The Witchs Quest
The Witch and the Werewolf
An American Witch in Paris
The Billionaire Werewolfs Princess
Tempting the Dark
This Strange Witchery
The Darks Mistress
Ghost Wolf
Moonlight and Diamonds
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
Witness in the Woods
Michele Hauf
www.millsandboon.co.uk
WITNESS IN THE WOODS
© 2019 Michele Hauf
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a Licensed Device) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Joseph Cash raced toward the admittance doors of St. Lukes emergency room. Hed driven furiously from Lake Seraphim the moment hed heard the dispatchers voice announce that an elderly Indian man near death had been found crawling at the edge of County Road 7. A young couple had spotted him, pulled over and called the police.
Joe had responded to Dispatch and asked if he could take the call. Shed reported back that an ambulance was already at the scene and the man was being transferred to Duluth. The patient was seizing, and the initial report had been grim. They couldnt know if hed arrive alive or dead.
The description the dispatcher had given Joe could have been that of any elderly Native American. Sun-browned skin, long dark hair threaded with gray and pulled into a ponytail. Estimated age around eighty.
But Joe instinctually knew who the man was. His heart had dropped when hed heard the location where the man had been found climbing up out of the ditch on all fours. That was the one place Max Owen had used to rendezvous with Joe when he brought him provisions, because from there it was a straight two-mile hike through the thick Boundary Waters to where hed camped every summer for twenty years in a little tent at the edge of a small lake.
Joe hadnt seen Max since June, two months earlier. Hed looked well, though his dry cough had grown more pronounced over the past year. Max had attributed it to the bad habit of smoking when hed been a teenager. If anything happened to end that old man before Joe could see himno, he mustnt think like that.
Now he entered the too-bright, fluorescent-lit hallway of the ER intake area. Three people queued before the admissions desk, waiting to be assessed for triage. Normally, Joe would respectfully wait his turn, as he had occasion to check in on patients hed brought here himself while on duty as a conservation officer with the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.
Fingers curling impatiently in and out of his fists, he stepped from foot to foot. He couldnt wait. If the emergency crew hadnt been certain about Maxs condition
The Native American man who was brought in, he said over the head of a stooped elderly woman at the front of the line.
The male nurse behind the bulletproof glass glanced up and, at the sight of Joe, smiled. Though weariness etched the nurses brow, his eyes glinted. Hey, handsome, who you looking for?
An old man was found on County Road 7 about forty-five minutes ago. Dispatch says they brought him here. He wore the conservation officers green jacket over his matching forest-green cotton shirt, so he had the official gear to grant him authority. But it probably wouldnt matter, Joe decided, as the nurse winked at him.
Please, I dont mean to interrupt, maam. Joe flashed a smile at the old woman who was giving him the stink eye. I think I know him. I can provide identification. Hes eighty-two, Native American Joe thought about it less than a moment, then clasped his fingers at his neck. And he always wore an eagle talon on a leather choker at his neck.
The nurse nodded. We got your guy. He glanced at the computer screen before him and then muttered, Oh.
That single utterance dropped Joes heart to his gut. Because he knew. The nurse didnt need to say anything more.
Wincing through the sudden rise of sadness that welled in his chest, Joe nodded toward the doors that led to the treatment rooms. The nurse touched the security button, which released the lock on the doors, and Joe dashed through, calling back a mumbled thanks.
He hadnt bothered to ask for a room number. There were only two rooms designated for those bodies that awaited the coroners visit. He knew that from previous visits. Walking swiftly down the hallway, he beat a fist into his palm as he neared the first room. The walls were floor-to-ceiling windows. All the curtains had been pulled, and no light behind them shone out.
Officer? A short blonde nurse in maroon scrubs appeared by his side and looked up at him. She smelled like pink bubblegum.
I heard the dispatch call on the old man, Joe said. I may be able to identify him.
Excellent. We thought he was a John Doe. Ill just need your badge and name for our records. Why dont you step inside the room and take a look to confirm your guess while I grab some forms?
Is he? When did he?
He was DOA. Dr. Preston called it ten minutes ago. Presented as ingestion of a poisonous substance, but were waiting for the coroner to do a thorough workup. Ill be right back!
She was too cheery, but then Joe had learned that the ER sported all ranges of personalities, and it was those who exuded cheer who survived longest the grueling emotional toll such work forced upon them. Either that, or she was faking it to get through yet another endless shift.
He opened the sliding door, which glided too quietly, and stepped inside the room. Though the body on the bed was covered from head to toe with a white sheet, he just knew. The ten-year-old boy inside him shook his head and sucked in his lower lip. Not fair. Why Max?
Carefully, Joe tugged back the sheet from the head. Recognition seized his heart. He caught a gasp at the back of his throat.
Oh, Max. Joe swore softly and gripped the steel bed rail. The man had been so kind to him over the years. He was literally the reason Joe currently worked for the DNR.
Poison? But how? It made no sense.
The sudden arrival of the nurse at his side startled him. She moved like a mouse, fast and stealthily.
Sorry. She handed him a clipboard and then turned on a low light over the bed. Just need your signature. Do you recognize the deceased?
I do. Joe scribbled his name and badge number on the standard form and handed it back to her. His name is Maximilien Owen and hes Chippewa. The Fond du Lac band. Doesnt live on the Fond du Lac reservation, though. Hasnt associated closely with his tribe for decades. Eighty-two years old. Has never seen a doctor a day in his life. I thought he was healthy, though hed had a dry cough of late. Are you sure it was poison?
That was the initial assessment. You know these Native Americans have herbs and plants they use for rituals and whatnot. Probably ate the wrong plant or something. Its very sad, she added.
Joe lifted a brow. She had no idea.
Max would never eat the wrong plant, Joe insisted. He lived off the land his entire life. He knew the Boundary Waters like no one else. His dad used to be a tracker in the Vietnam War, and he taught Max everything he knew.