Kate folded hers into quarters and was tucking it into a hip pocket when the front door opened again. All four women looked around and beheld Father Smith, who removed his stained leather hat with undeniable grace. Ladies.

Mr. Smith, Maggie said, accent on the honorific. Kate nodded, Auntie Vi stared right through him, and when no introduction was forthcoming Haynes said, Holly Haynes, Suulutaq Mine.

Father Smith of Beaver Creek.

In spite of his attention to his manners Father Smith looked less affable than usual. In fact, Kate thought, he looked downright worried.

How can I help you, Mr. Smith? Maggie said.

I found an abandoned truck on the road into my homestead, he said. They listened to his story in silence. Maggie looked at Kate. I don‘t know when Jim‘ll be back.

You go find that one now or dead him, Auntie Vi said. Maybe dead already anyway.

Haynes‘s eyes widened, but as usual Auntie Vi had summed it up in a manner that would have pleased Strunk and White. When was the last time you were down that road, Mr. Smith? Kate said.

He thought. Ten days ago.

Your family been into town since you been gone?

He shook his head. I doubt it. Nothing to come into town for.

He met her eyes with a bland expression, and whatever opinions Kate might have had about his family‘s need to leave their remote homestead she had learned the hard way last year to keep to herself. So, the pickup might have been abandoned there an hour after you left, she said.

He nodded.

Or an hour before you got there. Kate looked at Maggie. I‘ll go get a Grosdidier, and then we‘ll go up and get Dan O‘Brian. The four Grosdidier brothers were the Park‘s EMT team, and Dan O‘Brian was the Park‘s chief ranger.

Maggie nodded. I‘ll tell Jim what‘s up when he gets back.

The Grosdidier driveway was full so Kate had to park on the road. Smith waited in the pickup. Mutt followed Kate.

It was a two-story, two-bathroom, four-bedroom house, typical of the post–log cabin construction boom in the Park in the mid- seventies. It was always cheaper to go up, requiring a smaller foundation in construction and less in the way of heat in operation. A detached garage the size of a small hangar stood to the left. Both buildings fronted the river. An aging but sturdy dock was built on the bank, to which was moored a thirty-six-foot drifter named AudraSue, resplendent in a brand-new coat of white paint. Kate paused with her hand on the door for a closer look. Yes, the brand-new red trim line began at the bow with a square cross. She had to smile. She pushed open the door and stepped into a small room crowded with mismatched chairs that had all seen better days. A large empty wooden spool sat in the middle of the room, laden with magazines ranging from Guns&Ammoto Cosmopolitan. The

Redb ookissue facing Kate‘s direction had a picture of the original Charlie‘s Angels on it.