On Sunday, after attending church with Rafe’s parents and a quick meal of tacos, courtesy of reheated frozen taco meat, tomatoes and olives from the grocery store, and some of the lettuce I’d bought at the farmers market the day before, Rafe and I waved good-bye to a snoring Eddie and drove north to Ryan’s cabin.

“Wonder what the cabin was called before Ryan moved in,” I said as Rafe parked the car. After squinting at the sky, I reached into the pocket on the back of the passenger’s seat and took out the umbrella. Better to have and not need than need and not have, I always figured. Or at least that’s what I figured when I remembered to pack something that I might not need.

“You want a real answer or a fun answer?” Rafe took my hand as we started down the narrow road and swung it high, back and forth. “Never mind, I know you want the fun version. How about—”

We both stopped abruptly. Two men were emerging out of the woods, coming from the direction of the cabin.

Rafe gripped my hand tight. I edged closer to him, the two of us projecting one solid front. Not an even front, because one side of us was much bigger than the other, but solid nonetheless. And it wasn’t that the men were threatening in any way, but . . . still.

“Afternoon,” Rafe said casually.

The two were now close enough for me to see their faces. I didn’t recognize either one, and from Rafe’s relatively formal greeting, I was sure he didn’t know them, either.

“Hey,” said the guy on the left. The other nodded. They were both fortyish, dressed in jeans, light hiking boots, and smooth nylon jackets with wraparound sunglasses on their heads. They also each carried a bag partially filled with small and lumpy things. Morel hunters, for sure, who had a distinct downstate flavor.

“Looks like a decent haul,” Rafe said, nodding at the bags. “Keeping or selling?”

The guys exchanged a glance. “There’s not much out there,” said Left Guy. “Weather hasn’t been warm enough.”

Though they appeared pleasant enough, I felt a swell of hostility. I hefted the plastic bag of groceries I’d packed for Ryan. “We’re looking for a place to have a picnic. Know of a good spot?”

Instantly, the hostile aura subsided to mere wariness. “No,” Right Guy said. “Sorry.”

“Thanks anyway,” I said cheerfully.

“That’s right.” Rafe slung an arm around my shoulders. “We’re just hoping for a quiet place to eat and, you know, do whatever might come next.” I glanced up in time to see him give a huge wink.