The news played on a small television behind the counter. On the screen a reporter stood in the woods holding a microphone. A river rushed in the background. “Tourist Kevin Dougherty and his ten-year-old son, Hunter, disappeared this morning while on a family fishing trip. When last seen by his brother, Mr. Dougherty and Hunter were angling on the banks of the Long River. Local rivers are unusually high and swift this year due to heavy rains. This morning’s search of the immediate area yielded no clues, except a pile of belongings on the trail that leads to the cabin. With no sign of the father and son, rescue crews are concentrating their efforts downstream, where the river empties into Lake Walker. This incident serves as a reminder to stay out of floodwaters and be aware of unusually strong currents. Mr. Dougherty is an insurance salesman from New Jersey. His wife and three daughters anxiously await news on the search.”

The reporter stepped closer to the camera. “This is Karen Stevens, reporting for Action-Packed News.”

Unease trickled down Danny’s spine. Tourists probably went missing every season. But as the cop said, disappearing people were never a good sign.

“You all right?”

Danny jerked. The doctor stared at Danny’s hands. The fingers were doing their thing again. Shit.

“Fine, thanks.”

“My office is right off Main Street if you need anything.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Dr. Chandler pocketed his change and stepped aside. But he didn’t leave. He waited by the door until Danny completed his transaction. They stepped out into the cool morning air together.

The doctor gave the Challenger a wistful whistle. “A car like that brings back a whole bunch of memories.”

“She’s a beauty.” Danny opened his car door.

“I was serious about you coming into my office.”

Danny studied the asphalt under his running shoes.

“Look. I’m the only game in town. I treat everything, and I’ve seen addictions before.”

Danny’s eyes snapped up. The doctor thought he had the shakes because he needed a fix? “I’m not an addict.” Danny shoved his twitchy hand in his pocket while the doctor gave him a that’s-what-they-all-say look. Danny sighed and pulled his hand out. He pushed the cuff of his jacket up a couple of inches to reveal the edge of the deceptively thin scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow. “It’s nerve damage. Last year in Iraq, my patrol was hit with an IED.”

“Oh.” The lights went on in the doc’s eyes. He pulled a card out of his coat pocket and held it out. “Well, the offer stands; if you need anything, call me. My office is open until five today, but I’m pretty much available all the time.”

“Thanks.” Danny accepted the card.