“All right,” he said, at last. “We’ll go and check things out in the forest around Mr. Ilson’s place. But whatever we find, we’re only going to observe and report back to the ranger. It’ll be up to him and the sergeant to decide what’s best to do. Agreed?”

“All right,” said Harlan.

Tora nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Argus took a deep breath and sighed. It was in his nature to want to take a more active approach to solving these kinds of problems—by, say, killing whatever it was that was causing the problem—but even he had to admit that this situation required that they proceed with caution. “Agreed,” he said.

“Good,” Noble said. “Let’s go.”

As the pack rose to their feet, the bedroom door opened.

“Where are you all going?” Phyllis stood in the doorway, her fists on her hips.

Noble thought about lying to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “We thought we’d go by Mr. Ilson’s place. Maybe we can help the ranger figure out what happened.”

Phyllis pondered that a moment. “He thought you might have overheard that phone call,” she said. “He doesn’t want you going near there.”

“We aren’t planning on getting too close,” Noble said. That wasn’t exactly a lie. They weren’t planning on getting close, but who knew, the situation might change once they got there.

“As long as you keep your distance.”

“We will,” said Noble.

The others nodded in agreement as they filed out of the bedroom.

“All right, then,” Phyllis said. “The last thing we need right now is for any of you to get into trouble.”

The only answer was the back door slamming shut.

Chapter 3

Garrett Brock knocked on the door of Ernie Ilson’s cabin. The lights were on inside, and he could hear Ernie and Sergeant Martin talking. After the knock, the conversation inside ended and someone came to open the door.

Ernie was standing there with glassy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and a look on his face like he’d just lost his best friend.

“Hello, Ernie,” the ranger said.

“Hey,” the old-timer said, acknowledging the ranger with a wave of his hand.

Garrett smelled alcohol on the man’s breath and, from the look of him, it was obvious he’d had a drink or two. The ranger couldn’t fault him for that. He and that dog had been inseparable…til now.

Ernie turned and headed back to his chair. Sergeant Martin was on the couch facing the chair, a nice fire burning in the stove. The cabin was a bit cramped, but it suited Ernie’s needs. With his rabbits, a small vegetable garden in the summer, and a good-sized generator, he didn’t have to venture into Redstone but a couple of times a year for supplies.

“Thanks for coming,” said the sergeant.