Hunting Eve

But this was different, dammit.

Margaret smiled. “You might say some thing. I was able to pick it up from the birds in those trees out there on the hill. Birds are extremely sensitive to emotional states. And they’re territorial. They can spend years in the same area. They recognize patterns of behavior.”

Kendra nodded. Margaret’s explanation was made in the same matter-of-fact, clear ma

“I’m afraid not.” She chuckled. “There’s a reason for the word ‘birdbrain.’ They were able to convey the idea of the person watching Doane, probably the agent Venable had assigned to him. But the rest I picked up from Carlie.”

“Carlie?”

“Carlie’s a German shepherd. She belongs to Ron, a teenager who lives next door. She’s a very gentle, very friendly, dog. The kid came over frequently, and Doane helped fix his car. Lots of times, Carlie came with them and stayed with the boy.” She shrugged. “Doane was friendly enough to the dog while the boy was with him. But when Carlie wandered into the yard by herself, Doane was different; he yelled and chased her away.”

“So Doane was acting a part even with the dog?”

“People who love their animals would remember someone who was cold to them. Doane didn’t want anyone suspicious until he was ready to make his move. He was smart in every aspect of his little masquerade. Onstage, he was perfection, model neighbor, model citizen, all-around good guy.”

“But Carlie gave him a bad review.”

“Only when no one else was around. Carlie was confused. He made her uneasy.” She frowned. “That’s why she watched him from the backyard next door. Doane spent a lot of time out here in the shed.”

“Did he ever have a visitor?” What was she doing? Kendra thought with exasperation. She was playing Margaret’s game and treating her as if she was being perfectly logical. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“I know it’s hard,” Margaret said sympathetically. “It’s a whole new way of looking at the creatures around you. And, you know, if you do start to believe me, you’ll never look at them the same way again. That’s even more scary for some people.”

“I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that.”

“Maybe. You can never tell. To answer your question, no one came to the shed, but there were times Doane left the shed and disappeared into the woods for hours at a time.” She added thoughtfully, “I figure maybe Doane was picked up by someone out there who had a car waiting.”

“Blick?”

“He was his accomplice and able to move freely. It would make sense. Or maybe Blick provided Doane with another car that he parked in the woods for him to use.”

“So Doane might have come out to the shed because it was easier for him to slip into the woods.” She shrugged. “It’s all guesswork, and I’m not about to take the word of your German shepherd.”

“Why not? She’s more honorable than most people. No axe to grind.” She held up her hand. “You asked, I answered. Now we’ll scoot away from things that might disturb you. You’ll be more comfortable trying to put things together in a way that’s more acceptable to you.” She gestured sweepingly around her. “Go for it.”

“I don’t have to have your permission, Margaret,” Kendra said dryly as she turned and glanced around the toolshed. Most of the structure was still cloaked in shadows, save for the slivers of illumination reflected by dozens of stainless-steel circular saw blades mounted on the wall. The area was centered by woodworking tools, including a table-saw router, lathe, and a few devices Kendra wasn’t familiar with. She studied the contours of the machinery, but none seemed to fit the impressions she had seen in Doane’s car.

“Doane’s been working in here in the last week or so.” Kendra pointed to the floor and waved her hands over large footprints in the sawdust.

“But I think other people must have searched this place in the past few days,” Margaret said.

“They have. You can see their footprints, too. But these match the style and size of a pair of boots I just saw in Doane’s closet. And this sawdust is freshly cut cherrywood. It has a very strong scent. Can you smell it?”

Margaret nodded. “The whole shed smells like it.”

“That means it can’t have been cut much more than a week ago.”

Kendra moved to a rack of hardware over a smaller lathe and fingered the intricate metal plates.

Margaret picked one up. “What are these?”

“They’re used as patterns for the lathe, for cutting ornamental wood pieces. The one you’re holding would make a clover.”

Margaret’s eyes squinted at it. “It doesn’t look anything like a clover.”

“No, but the pins act as a guide for precisely moving the wood across the cutter to create the pattern.” Kendra waved her hand across the other plates. “Each of these creates a different design. Before I could see, I used to love ru

Margaret leaned over it. “What’s this pattern?”

Kendra studied it for a moment, then crouched to get a closer look. “Hard to say. Some geometric pattern. It looks like it could be a—” She stopped, frozen.

It was a pattern she had seen before.

Not the cabinet in Doane’s bedroom. Something else …

Of course.

Kendra whirled and quickly moved toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Margaret asked, startled.

Kendra didn’t answer.

“May I go with you?”

She didn’t want company. The girl would probably get in her way.

But she didn’t want to leave her out here alone either. That damn protectiveness again.

“Okay, come.” She threw open the door. “Move. Now.”

CHAPTER

7

Gwi