He took a step back. “I could make coffee.”

“Please.”

Ten minutes later, I was sipping from a Styrofoam cup, watching the drive for signs of an emergency vehicle. Bear had hauled himself off the floor, and leaned against my leg in the doggy version of a hug.

Randy, who’d changed into jeans, a plaid shirt, and cowboy boots, joined me at the window. “May I get you anything else?”

I kept my gaze locked on the drive. “No, thank—they’re here.” I ran outside, up the short path to the lot, and prayed the vehicle I’d spotted was the ambulance.

A patrol car pulled into the parking lot, and I swallowed my disappointment.

I sighed and glanced at Randy, who’d followed me. “I’ll show them where the body is. Will you follow with the EMTs?”

“How do I find you?”

“I tore off part of my nightgown to mark where I came out of the woods. It’s on the path between our cabin and Sumner’s.”

“We'll come as soon as they arrive.”

“Thank you.” I left him and approached the sheriff’s deputy in the parking lot.

“I’m Deputy Kincaid.” He looked at my boots and my shirt and my hair and frowned. He found me less than impressive. “Are you Mrs. Jones?”

“I am.” And I wasn’t impressed with him either. He was the kind of man whose 32-inch belt hovered well below his 44-inch waist. But, he was my only option. “If you'll come with me?”

“Hold up there, ma’am. Tell me what happened.”

"I heard something in the woods. My husband and I went to investigate, and we found a body. Then a snake bit my husband.”

He held up his pointer finger and wagged from side to side. “You found a body? A human body?”

“Yes. Didn’t Randy tell you? I can take you to it.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, you seem real calm for a woman who found a body.”

Was he kidding? “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Pardon?”

“My husband is a homicide detective. Ask Deputy Harden. He’ll vouch for me.”

“You’re the woman who found the body yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, you’re plum unlucky.”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes. I know.”

I saw lights out the corner of my eye. “The ambulance is here!”

“Thought you said it was a dead body.”

“My husband was bitten by a snake.” Didn’t he listen?

I left the deputy and hurried to the fit, young men exiting the ambulance. "My husband—"

“Snake bite?”

“That’s right.”

“Where is he, ma’am?”

“In the woods.”

The two men exchanged a worried glance. “Can you find him?”

“Yes. Follow me. We’ll have to walk. There’s no road.” If Deputy Kincaid wanted to come, he could. Or not. Either way, I wasn’t wasting any more time on his questions.