The Hunt

He had to earn their trust.

“I’ll make an official statement,” Qui

Nick glanced at Qui

“It’s your investigation, Nick. I wouldn’t be here without your invitation. You know that.”

“Am I doing things right? Am I missing something? Did I-”

Qui

Nick closed his eyes. “I know. I know. Eli just gets to me, you know?”

“Yeah. He’s a dick.”

They walked the block to the government center, where the medical examiner also had an office and laboratory.

“How’d Miranda take to you staying at the lodge?” Nick asked.

Qui

“Shit’ll hit the fan.”

“She’ll deal with it.”

Nick wondered. Miranda was already upset that he’d called Qui

The fact that he’d walked away two years ago because Miranda didn’t return his feelings didn’t minimize his dislike of Qui

He didn’t like that position one bit.

He liked Qui

No. It wasn’t going to happen. Miranda had been devastated when Qui

So there was still a chance, Nick thought as they turned into the medical examiner’s outer office. In fact, perhaps Miranda would turn to him because Qui

No. He wouldn’t settle for second place. Miranda had to want him, not be driven into his arms because of another man.

Ryan Parker sat high up on the ridge, confident no one could see him, and watched the people gather below. But his eyes weren’t focused on the sheriff’s deputies.

The bright crime scene tape drew him in. Reminding him who had lain there. He’d never forget the blue, naked body. The deep, dark red-almost black-gash in her throat. The cuts and bruises covering her skin.

But it was her eyes that haunted him now.

He hadn’t slept much the night before. Every time he tried to sleep, Rebecca Douglas stared at him, her wide, frozen blue eyes fuzzy with death.

Ryan had seen dozens of dead animals in his eleven years. When he’d shot a buck with his.22, a clean shot in the back of the head, his dad had been proud of him. He hadn’t been all that proud of himself.

Hunting was okay. He didn’t particularly like it, not like his dad and his uncle, but it was okay.

Fishing, on the other hand, was heaven. He’d fish every day if his parents let him. He felt independent, free, when he was out on the lake, or sitting on the eddy near the bend in the river south of his house, or just on the pier at the lake. It made him happier than anything else in his life. More than the horses. Certainly more than hunting.

And, too often, he was happier alone, without his parents.

Something about the quiet, maybe. Or the waiting. Sean and Timmy didn’t have the patience for fishing. Timmy could keep quiet, but he fidgeted. Sean didn’t even go anymore because Ryan refused to pull in the rod after twenty minutes of no bites. Sometimes his dad would sit with him for a couple of hours, and that was good.

But his dad was too busy now for long excursions to the lake.

Sometimes it took all day to catch a decent-sized trout or bass. Sometimes you didn’t catch anything, but that was okay. Because it was the fishing, the waiting, the freedom that made all the difference in the world. Not the catching.

But Sean and Timmy didn’t understand that.

Neither did his father, though he tried.

Ryan watched the people below, so small they looked like ants. He squinted and held up his fingers. So big. Less than a quarter-inch.

They didn’t even know he was here.

He just wanted to see what they found. For some reason, he thought if they found the guy who killed that girl, he could sleep easier. It was as if the girl were a doe, her neck sliced, her eyes wide and unfocused and staring.

Ryan didn’t like that. People were people and animals were animals, but someone had treated that girl like an animal. It wasn’t right.

When most of the sheriff’s people started down the old logging path, Ryan stood and brushed the dirt from his worn jeans. He had to be getting back, anyway. Because he’d left Ranger in the stable, it’d take him an hour to get home and he didn’t want his mom to worry. She didn’t ask a lot of questions, but she always knew if he was lying.

Ryan didn’t lie, really. But sometimes, he didn’t want to tell the truth. Avoiding conversations was the best way to handle his mom.

He followed the narrow springtime creek down the ridge, toward the wider path that led to the boundary of their ranch. He spotted hoofprints and frowned. They looked fresh, but he hadn’t noticed any of the searchers coming this high up the ridge. Whoever it was, though, needed to reshoe his poor horse. The right hind hoof had lost a couple of nails, and the loose rocks and dirt would be getting under the shoe and embedding in the horse’s hooves.

Lost in thought, he almost missed it.

The sun reflected off something in his path and he stopped to bend down and examine it.

At first he thought two snake eyes were glaring at him, ready to strike, and he teetered back onto his heels. He regained his balance and looked more carefully at the object.

It wasn’t a snake, of course. The two eyes were small, dark gems. Deep green, like the pine trees at dusk. The gems were embedded in a simple silver belt buckle carved to look like a bird. Like an eagle. The gems were its eyes.

He reached out and picked it up, surprised when a piece of leather came with it, still attached to the buckle. Examining the end, it was obviously frayed and probably broke off when a hunter or hiker stopped on this high ledge to take a pee.

Ryan hesitated as he stared at the buckle. Should he take it to that FBI agent? Maybe it would be important to the investigation. His heart beat with excitement. The Untouchables was his favorite movie, and he never missed Without a Trace , the show about finding missing people.

But his excitement turned to worry. His father had told him specifically not to bother the sheriff. And he’d lied to his mother about where he was going. She would flip. She wouldn’t yell or spank him or anything, but she had this look , and the look was scarier than any punishment.

He shivered and pulled his jacket closer, though the day was warming nicely. Stuffing the buckle into his pocket, he continued down the narrow trail toward home. If he saw Sheriff Thomas again, he’d show him the buckle.

It was probably nothing, anyway. Just some guy pissing in the woods.