I hadn’t really thought about what Juney’s art might look like. I guess I’m expecting intricate paintings of birds and bears and deer—local wildlife landscapes, that kind of thing. I get a sinking feeling. I should not have come to Grizzly’s tonight. I should go back to avoiding town and Star Falls residents in general. It just gets me into trouble. The last time I was here, I ended up with a neighbor. Now, I have to buy art I don’t want and can never display.

“I don’t necessarily understand it,” Rosey says. “I’m not an art person. But this looks… fresh. She’s had some exhibitions in Denver and Aspen.”

She pushes the phone into my hand and I take a look. There’s not a detailed wildlife painting in sight. Instead, there are huge abstract canvasses. I glance at Rosey, whose gaze is fixed on my phone. Her lips are mere inches from mine, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

“I think some of these would look amazing in the chalets. In the main building as well, though I’m not sure you have room for them.”

“I’ll send the site to Rosalind and see what she thinks.”

“Rosalind?” Rosey asks.

“The designer. She’s in charge of all the interior decoration.”

“Tell her it’s a local artist. I think they’re beautiful.” Rosey’s cheeks are flushed with the heat of Grizzly’s and her enthusiasm for Juney’s paintings. She’s beautiful all the time, but lit up like this, she’s radiant. Maybe I should buy her a painting.

“You came!” someone screeches from behind us. Donna appears and grabs Rosey by the hand like they’re long-lost sisters.

“Did you complete your investigations?” Rosey asks. She’s clearly intrigued.

She grabs my elbow and stands close, pulling the three of us into a circle. “I knocked on the doors,” she whispers. I’m not sure if she’s drunk or just overinvested. “No freaking answer. It was six thirty. If it was a tourist, there’s no way they wouldn’t be in their RV at six freaking thirty.”

She looks between us like she’s a trial lawyer who’s just presented a smoking gun.

“So you think it’s the government?” Rosey asks, her eyes wide.

Donna lifts up her palms. “What else could it be?”

I’m about to give her at least a dozen possible explanations that don’t involve federal agencies, when suddenly the door to Grizzly’s crashes open and three very unexpected faces appear.

TWENTY-TWO

Byron

I slide my beer onto the bar and try to focus on the three men who’ve just come through the door. I glance back at my drink. How many have I had? Is it enough to start hallucinating?

“You know those guys?” Rosey asks.