As I walked toward the stairs, I noticed three men who looked more like corporate management than cops. They probably were. Other lodge guests often joined in with Mitch’s group. I’d have to check with Emma, make sure our insurance was up-to-date. Last time Mitch’s bunch was here, their visit had coincided with a firm’s annual getaway. Four accountants had ended up with non-life-threatening injuries. Fortunately, none sued. Two even had me take photos of their wounds, oozing blood and dirt, to show their friends back home.

A young man with a crew cut came bouncing down the stairs and stopped in my path.

“You must be Nadia,” he said, face splitting in a grin that made him look twelve. He extended a hand. “Pete Moore. Etobicoke. My first year.”

I shook his hand.

“You know, you’re quite a celebrity over at the police college. We did a case study on you.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mitch bearing down, not-so-subtly gesturing for Moore to zip it. Moore didn’t notice.

“Couple months ago, we had this kiddy rapist, a real nasty piece of shit, and I said to my sergeant, ‘Man, this is one of those times when you really wish you had someone like Nadia Stafford on the team.’”

Mitch grabbed the duffel from me, put a hand against my back and propelled me up the stairs, body-checking Moore so hard the young man yelped.

“Kid’s got a bad habit of opening his mouth before engaging his brain,” Mitch said when we got to the upstairs hall.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t.” I pushed open the unlocked door to my room. “Really, it’s okay. He thought he was paying me a compliment.”

I took the duffel bag and turned, cutting Mitch off before he followed me into the room. “Give me an hour to shower and unpack and I’ll be down.”

I’d lied about having a shower. My bathroom only had a tub. If I installed a shower, I’d use it—and my life needed less harsh efficiency and more hot baths with orange-blossom bubbles. Except for the bathroom, my quarters are the very model of efficiency. Because the lodge is a live-in business, there’s a self-contained apartment on the first floor, but this I gave to the Waldens. I used one of the twelve guest rooms, and ate my meals in the dining lounge with everyone else. Most of my day was spent outdoors and, with 120 acres, I had all the living space I could ask for.

The first thing I needed was not a bath, but information. I knew Jack could tell me more about the Helter Skelter killings, and how much danger I was in because of the Moretti connection, but I couldn’t wait for nightfall.