'Only for matters relating directly to the crash. To check for survivors who might have crawled off, for example. Maybe died under the house.'

'Or inside the courtyard.'

'Anything suspicious found while inside, I'd need a regular warrant.'

'Of course.'

'There are stil two passengers unaccounted for.'

'Yes.'

'Did that bar look like wreckage to you?'

'Could have been a piece from the cabin floor.'

'That was my impression. Guess I'd better take a look.'

'I can be there by two.'

'I'l wait.'

===OO=OOO=OO===

By three, Boyd and I were in the backseat of a jeep, Crowe at the wheel, a deputy riding shotgun. Two others were behind us in a second vehicle.

The chow was as pumped as I was, though for different reasons. He rode with his head out the window, nose twisting like a weather vane in a tropical storm. Now and then I'd push down on his haunches. He'd sit, rise immediately.

The radio sputtered as we raced along the county road. Passing the Alarka Fire Department, I noted that only one reefer truck and a few cars were parked in the lot. A Bryson City cruiser guarded the entrance, its driver bent over a magazine spread across the steering wheel.

Crowe took the blacktop to its end, then the Forest Service road, where I'd left my car three weeks earlier. Ignoring the cutoff to the crash site, she proceeded another three quarters of a mile and turned onto a different logging trail. After crawling upward for what seemed like miles, she stopped, studied the forest to either side, advanced, repeated the process, then took us off road. Our backup folowed closely.

The Jeep bounced and pitched, branches scraping its top and sides. Boyd puled in like a box turtle, and I yanked my arm from the window ledge. The dog whipped his head from right to left, spraying saliva on everyone. The deputy puled a hanky from his pocket and wiped his neck but said nothing. I tried to remember his name. Was it Craig? Gregg?

Then the trees stepped back, yielding to a narrow dirt track. Ten minutes later, Crowe braked, alighted, and swung back what looked like an entire thicket. When we proceeded, I could see that what she'd moved was a gate, entirely overgrown with kudzu and ivy. Moments later the Arthur house came into view.

'I'l be goddamned,' said the deputy. 'This place in the 911 book?'

'Listed as abandoned,' said Crowe. 'I never knew it was here.'

Crowe puled to the front of the house and honked twice. No one appeared.

'There's a courtyard around to the side.' Crowe nodded in that direction. 'Tel George and Bobby to cover that entrance. We'l enter in front.'

They got out, simultaneously releasing the safety clips on their guns. As the deputy walked back to the second Jeep, Crowe turned to me.