Oh, thats touching.
She wasnt in the mood to hear the old mans life story, and Joe wasnt going to gift her with Maxs wonderful tale. He pegged her cheery attitude as a false front.
Im going to stick around for the coroner, he said. I want an autopsy.
The nurses jaw dropped. Do youknow his family? We dont usually
He didnt have family. Ill pay for the autopsy. This is important.
Joe wasnt about to let the old man be filed away as an accidental poisoning. That was not Max. At all. Something wasnt right. And Joe would not rest until it was confirmed that Maxs death had been naturalor not.
Two weeks later
BURNING CEDARWOOD SWEETENED the air better than any fancy department store perfume Skylar Davis had ever smelled. Pine and elm kindling crackled in the bonfire before her. A refreshingly cool August breeze swept in from the lake not thirty yards away and caressed her shoulders. She breathed in, closing her eyes, and hugged the heavy white satin wedding dress against her chest.
It was time to do this.
Beside her on the grass, alert and curious, sat Stella, the three-year-old timber wolf shed rescued as a pup. Skylar could sense the wolfs positive, gentle presence. The wolf was there for her. No matter what.
She opened her eyes and then dropped the wedding dress onto the fire. Smoke coiled. Sparks snapped. Stella sounded an are-you-sure-about-this yip.
Has to be done, Stella. I cant move forward any other way.
Using a long, charred oak stick peeled clean of barkher fathers fire-poking stickshe nudged the lacy neckline of the dress deeper into the flames. The tiny pearls glowed, then blackened, and the lace quickly melted. The frothy concoction, woven with hopes and dreamsand a whole lot of reckless abandonmeant little to her now.
Stepping back to stand beside Stella, Skylar planted the tip of the fire-poking stick in the ground near her boot and nodded. She should have done this two months earlierthat Saturday afternoon when shed found herself marching into the county courthouse with hell in her eyes and fury in her heart. An unexpected conversation with her uncle an hour earlier had poked through her heart and left it ragged.
Her world had tilted off balance that day. The man shed thought she was ready to share the rest of her life with had a secret life that hed attempted to keep from her. Shed had her suspicions about Cole Pruitt, which was why she had been the one to approach Uncle Malcolm in the flower shop parking lot that morning she had intended to say I do. Normally shed find a way to walk a wide circle around the family member who had done nothing but serve her and her father heartache over the years. But shed had to know. And Malcolm had been just evasive enough for her to pressuntil hed spilled the truth about Cole.
Since then, life had been strangely precarious. Not only had she ditched a fiancé, but her uncle had been keeping a close eye on her, as well. Hounding her about the parcel of land he wanted her to sell to him. And so close to making threats, but not quite. Still, she was constantly looking over her shoulder for somethingdanger, ora rescuer?
Hell, she was a strong, capable woman who could take care of herself. She didnt need rescuing.
Maybe.
Stella, I
Something stung Skylars ear. It felt like a mosquito, but immediately following that sudden burn, she saw wood split out, and a small hole appeared through the old hitching post three feet to her right.
What the?
Clamping a hand over her ear and instinctively ducking, Skylar let out a gasp as another hole suddenly drilled into the post.
Stella jumped to all fours, alert and whining in a low and warning tone. The wolf scanned the woods that surrounded their circle of a backyard. Cutting the circle off on the bottom was the rocky lakeshore. A cleared swath in the thick birch and maple woods opened to the lake, where Skylar saw no boat cruising by. Was someone in the woods?
She opened her hand before her. Blood smeared one of her fingers. What had just happened?
The holes in the post answered that question. And set Skylars heartbeats to a faster pace.
Stella, stay here. Still in a squat, Skylar patted her thigh. The wolf crept to her side and Skylar ran her fingers through her soft summer coat. Someone just shot at me, she whispered.
And, unfortunately, that was no surprise.
Chapter Two
Finishing off a ham-and-pickle sandwich hed packed for a late lunch, Joe Cash sat in his county-issue four-by-four pickup truck outside the public access turnoff to Lake Vaillant. Hed just come off the water after a long day patrolling, which involved checking that fishermen had current licenses, guiding a few lost tourists in the right direction and issuing a warning to a group of teens who had been trying to dive for buried treasure. The depths of the lake were littered with fishing line, lost hooks and decades of rusting boat parts. Only the beach on the east shore had been marked for safe swimming.
All in a days work. A man couldnt ask for a better job. Conservation officer for the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources was a title that fit Joe to a tee. Ninety percent of the time, his office featured open air, lakes, trees, snow and/or sun. Joes job was to keep the public safe, but also to protect and guard the wildlife that flourished in this county set in the Superior Forest. Not a day passed that he didnt get to wander through tall grasses, spot a blue heron or, if he was lucky, spy on a timber wolf from a local pack.
He smiled widely and tilted back the steel canteen of lukewarm water for a few swallows. This job was what made him wake with a smile and dash out to work every morning. Nothing could give him more satisfaction. Except, that is, when he finally nailed the parties responsible for the rampant poaching in the area. Someone, or many someones, had been poaching deer, beaver, cougar, turkey and the animal most precious to Joes soul, the gray wolf. But tops on the list was the bald eagle. Taking down the other animals without a proper license was considered a gross misdemeanor. Taking down a bald eagle was a federal offense. And recently hed begun to wonder if the poachers were using something beyond the usual snare or steel trap. Like death by poisoning.
The autopsy on Max Owen had shown hed been poisoned by strychnine. He hadnt consumed it orally, but rather, it had permeated his skin and entered his bloodstream. And even more surprising than the poison? His lungs had been riddled with cancer. That discovery had troubled Joe greatly. If he had known what was growing in Max, he would have taken him to a doctor long ago. The poison had killed him, but it was apparent the cancer would have been terminal. The coroner had ruled his death accidental. There had been no evidence of foul play. Max must have handled the poison improperly, it was determined.
Joe knew the old man was not stupid. He didnt handle poison. Strychnine was rarely used, and if so, only by farmers for weeds and crops. Max had immense respect for wildlife and would never use or put something into the environment that could cause harm.
After saying goodbye to his mentor in the ER that night, Joe had gone directly to the site where Max set up his campsite from April to October. It had been past midnight, but Joe had tromped through the woods, confident in his destination. Yet when hed arrived at camp, he had been too emotionally overwhelmed to do a proper evidence search. Instead, hed sat against the oak tree where Max had always crossed his legs and showered wisdom on Joe. He had cried, then fallen asleep. In the morning, Joe had pulled on latex gloves and gathered evidence. There hadnt been clear signs of unwelcome entry to the site, no containers that might have held the poison, but Joe had gathered all the stored food and the hunting knife Max used and taken it in to Forensics. The forensic specialist had reported all those items were clean. Whatever Max had touched was still out there, had been tucked somewhere away from the campsite or had been thrown.
And while the county had seemed to want to brush it offthe old man was dead and he hadnt had any familythe tribe had seen to the burial of his body.
Joe had insisted he be allowed to continue with the investigation. The tribal police had given him permission, as they were not pursuing the death, having accepted the accidental poison ruling as final.
He might not have been family by blood, but Max was true family to Joe. Hed been there for Joe when he was a kid, and had literally saved his life. And he had been the reason Joe had developed his voracious love for the outdoors and wildlife.
Touching the eagle talon that hung from the leather cord about his neck, Joe muttered, You wont die in vain, Max. Hed been allowed to take the talisman from Maxs things after the lab had cleared it as free from poison. The talon had been given to Max by his grandfather; a talisman earned because he had been a healer. It had been cherished by Max.
But the tracks to whoever had poisoned Maxand the reason whywere muddled. Did Max have enemies? Not that Joe had been aware of. Hed strayed from close tribal friendships and had been a lone wolf the last few decades. Not harming any living soul, leaving peaceably. A life well lived, and yet, it had been cut short.
The thought to tie Maxs alleged murder to the poaching investigation only clicked when Joe remembered Max once muttering that he knew exactly who poached in the county, and that they would get their own someday. Joe had mentioned a family name, and Maxs jaw had tightened in confirmation. Everyone knew the Davis family did as they pleased, and poaching was only one of many illegal activities in which they engagedand got away with.
Now he needed new evidence, a break in the investigation, that would confirm his suspicion. So far, the Davis family had been elusive and covered their tracks like the seasoned tracker-hunters Joe knew they were.
The police radio crackled on the dashboard, and Dispatch reported an incident close to Joe.
Anyone else respond? he replied. Generally, if the disturbance was not directly related to fish and game, Dispatch sent out county law enforcement.
Weve got two officers in the area, but both are at the iron mine cave-in.
This morning a closed taconite mine had reported a cave-in. It was believed three overzealous explorers who had crossed the barbed wire fence closing off the mine could be trapped inside.
No problem, Joe said. I can handle it. Whats the call?
Skylar Davis reports shes been shot at on her property. Her address is
I got it. Joe shoved the canteen onto the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition. His heart suddenly thundered. He knew Skylar Davis. Too well. Is she hurt?
Not sure, Dispatch reported. Sounded pretty calm on the call. You know where she lives?
Im ten minutes from her land, he said. Im on my way.
He spun the truck around on the gravel road and headed east toward the lake where Merlin Davisbrother of Malcolm Davis, who owned Davis Truckinghad owned land for decades. Skylar had inherited her fathers land years ago after cancer had taken his life. His daughter now lived alone on hundreds of forested acreage set at the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. She was a strong woman. A beautiful woman.
She wasthe woman Joe could never sweep out of his thoughts. The one who had gotten away.
And shed been shot at?
He slammed his foot onto the accelerator.
SKYLAR OPENED THE door and sucked in a gasp. Joseph Cash stood on the front stoop, dark hair swept over one eye and looking smart in his uniform. The forest-green short-sleeved shirt and slacks served to enhance his tan skin. Hand at his hip where a gun was holstered, he had been looking aside until shed stepped onto the threshold. When he turned to her and his stunning green eyes connected with hers, she clasped a hand over her heart.
Skylar, are you all right? She heard genuine concern in his urgent tone.
She had so many things she wanted to say to him. Yet at the moment, she didnt know how to assemble a coherent sentence. Joseph Cash was the kindest person shed known, and had always seemed to be there when shed needed protecting. Be it in high school when shed been bullied for sitting at the unpopular kids table, or even when shed had to struggle for customers when shed been working as a small-animal veterinarian in town and most took their animals to the big city of Duluth. And yet, despite his kindnesses, shed pushed Joe away, wanting to prove to him that she was her own woman. Independent and strong. That she didnt need a man to look over her.
Her rushed choice in fiancé had proved just that point. What a fool she had been.
Joe, she said. I didnt expect you. I called the county sheriff. I thought
Well, you got me. He cast her a smile that surely made every woman in the county swoon. But Skylar had never known how to react to his easy charm and shyness, save with a thrust back of her shoulders and, admittedly, a stupidly stubborn need to prove herself.
I was close when the call came in, he offered. Just down the road coming off Lake Vaillant after a patrol. You okay, Skylar? Dispatch reports you were shot at? Whats going on?
Im okay. And yes, I believe I was shot at. She absently stroked her fingers over her ear, covering it with her loose blond hair. I didnt expect you, she said again, rather dumbly.
Because if she had known Joseph Cash would be the one standing on her front stoop, she might have brushed on a little blush and combed her hair. At the very least, changed into some clean jeans.
A squawk from behind Joe made him turn sharply on the creaky lower wood step. Skylar noticed his hand instinctively went to his hip where his gun was holstered. A chicken in a pink knit sweater scampered across the crushed quartz pebbles that paved the stone walk up to the front steps.
What the hell? Joe said.
Thats Becky. She wants you to see her. Shes very concerned about her looks. Do you like her sweater?
The man scratched his head and then bobbed it in a nod, even while squinting questionably. Yes?
Shes one of my rehab residents.
Thats right, you rehabilitate animals. Im not even going to ask about the sweater. He followed the chickens retreat across the yard until she scrambled around the side of the house.
Uhcome inside. Skylar stepped back and allowed him to enter the log cabin where shed been living for two years.
When her father passed, the family land had become her possession, as she was his only child. At least, it was hers according to a handwritten note Merlin Davis had written a week before his death. Skylar had lived in the house until shed moved to Duluth for college. Eventually, shed made her way back to the town of Checker Hill and set up shop as the resident veterinarian. Shed never gotten much business. The townspeople were leery of the name Davis. Now this home felt too big for one person, but it was a comfort to nestle onto the aged leather sofa in the evenings, blanket wrapped about her shoulders, and admire the photos of her and her dad that she kept on each and every wall.
You want something to drink? Ive got lemonade.
Joe grabbed her by the upper arm to stop her from fleeing across the open floor plan living area and into the kitchen.