The only problem areas were his teeth. Her assistant had cleaned his yellow fangs while he was under the influence of the propofol. Lizzie asked if I might try brushing them at home.

“That depends,” I said. “Do you have any ten-foot-long toothbrushes?”

“We have dental chew toys.”

“He swallowed the last one.”

“What about beef bones? Deer antlers?”

“I’ll increase his allotment.”

As a warden, I had access to a near-endless supply of deer and moose sheds. And the local slaughterhouse that provided me with the meat I fed Shadow had plenty of spare bones.

I was permitted to bring the Jeep around to the loading dock. One of her techs offered to help me lift his crate into the vehicle, but I said I could handle it. That was a mistake. A muscle in my lower back spasmed, and it was all I could do to keep a smile on my face.

Lizzie came down to see me off because she’d been obsessing about her faux pas. “Mike, I hope I didn’t cause a problem with Dani.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Serves me right for gossiping. You’re sure it’s all right?”

“One hundred percent.”

But I kept my eyes open for Nicole’s SUV and made a point of avoiding her street on my way out of town. I could never understand why the Tates continued to reside in Pennacook after the mill closed and half of Main Street went dark. The family seemed incapable of imagining life elsewhere.

Dani was the exception. She had always been competitive and ambitious. I wondered how her interview with Chief Jemison had gone since she hadn’t messaged me yet.

Better not to dwell on the unknown.

My dashboard thermometer told me the temperature had climbed to a balmy twenty-eight degrees. The GPS told me the drive to Stratford would take less than an hour. From the interior of the Jeep came the heavy breathing of the sleepy wolf.

I engaged the hands-free speaker, instructing my phone’s virtual assistant to call former Warden Lieutenant Marc Rivard. I half hoped the number I had for him was out-of-date.

No such luck. “If it isn’t the investigator!”

“Hello, Marc.”

“When I saw it was you, I almost let it go to voicemail. But you would’ve kept calling. I know how you are.”

My former superior had always seen my persistence as a character defect.

During that brief period when he was the golden boy of the Maine Warden Service, Marc Rivard had overseen the search and rescue team. In that capacity, he’d headed up the efforts to locate Eben Chamberlain, taking over as primary on the case because he wanted the credit. And in fairness, he had a mind for searches.