Sometimes he felt like he was an astronaut flying from one planet to another, having to adjust to the climate as he learned the terrain and the language. In a month he’d have to learn to breathe in different air.

Without much thought, Ketch turned to the river for his run. Like a wild animal he needed to turn away from civilization to inhale deeply.

Near town a walking path followed along the water’s edge, but a mile downstream the bank turned rugged and unpredictable. He liked that part of the run best. Going over uneven ground, weaving in between trees and climbing up embankments.

As he pounded out a few miles he could feel his mind clearing. His body was strong and powerful, like it had been in the army when he could run for miles. Then he’d had to be on full alert. Ready for anything. Always prepared to fight. Thinking fast. In survival mode. For a while he wanted to feel that way again.

Today the run was easy. The fight was in his mind as he tackled one problem. The bomber. Nothing but a few sliding doors had been damaged, but Ketch felt that something more was coming. The sheriff seemed to think the threat, if there really was one, had passed. But Ketch could sense the shadow of trouble still hanging around, waiting.

Another mile and the problem still played out in his mind like a puzzle with random pieces floating before him. The locations. The lack of skill. Even the mud that Dr. Monroe pointed out on the steps was somehow a clue.

Figuring out the puzzle was like building a house. Get the foundation solid first. What did he know for sure? The placement of the bombs must mean something. Then the amateur errors seemed more planned than accidental. The bomber seemed to be getting better, then worse. He was sloppy and reckless one moment and the next skilled enough to blow up the entrance to the hospital.

At first he thought the bomber was learning, experimenting, but the skill wasn’t growing in what Ketch thought would be a predictable line.

Alone, two miles from town, pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. Somehow the people in the town, the students, maybe even the lawmen, were involved.

One fact slowly formed. One explanation. There had to be more than one person building bombs. Two or maybe three. That would make it easier to buy supplies without arousing suspicion. Easier to move around town without too many people noticing.