“Fine. But practices are Monday and Wednesday afternoons, at the rink. Mostly it’s us slapping around the puck and then going out for pizza over at the Starlight.”

“I’ll see. I gotta stick around the house, make sure my dad is okay.”

“If I know your dad, he’ll be up making you dinner when you get back, telling one of his crazy bush pilot stories.”

Dodge gave him a courtesy laugh, a fist around his heart.

Yes, that had been the dad he’d known.

Maybe that’s why the betrayal hurt so much.

“Tomorrow. Or Wednesday.” Mal backed away. “And she’s still single, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Mal grinned.

Oh, this stupid town.

Dodge got in his truck and headed home with the setting sun.

“Echo, are you okay?”

Echo turned away from the window of the Fish and Game office, watching as Malachi Bowie walked over to the Midnight Sun Saloon.

That was weird.

She looked up to where Hank stood holding the report he’d printed on the DNA findings of the bear Idaho’s hunter had shot a few days ago. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

She blinked at him.

Hank put the report down. Looked past her to the empty street. “What, is there a moose on Main Street again?”

She laughed. “No. Yes. Something like that.” She reached out for the report. “I just thought I saw a ghost.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head. “Okay, not a ghost, just a man who looked very much like someone I used to know. But I think he was just a tourist asking for directions or something. Anyway, he’s gone now.” She directed her attention to the report. “What’s going on?”

And again, Hank explained what the report meant. But what if it was Dodge? He’d looked like Dodge, with that dark, almost black hair, that solid build, except bigger, maybe. But wouldn’t Dodge have filled out? And he had shorter hair, but that’s how they wore it in the military, right? And he’d stood like Dodge, confidence in his bearing, almost as if daring the world to push him over. But Dodge hadn’t set foot in Copper Mountain for nearly a decade and—

“So, what do you think we should do about it?”

Aw. She looked up again. Made a face.

Hank folded his arms and leaned back against the counter that cordoned off the staff areas. “Okay, who is this guy?”

“What guy?”

“The ghost.”

“Oh.” She frowned, not sure where to start.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”