Konrad Martin was the sergeant in charge of the local detachment of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He worked closely with Garrett Brock—himself a peace officer—to enforce the laws to preserve the forests around Redstone, for both the wildlife as well as the citizens.

“Evening, Sergeant,” Garrett said, then hesitated as he looked at his wristwatch. “To what do I owe the honor of a call at this late hour?”

“Ernie Ilson.”

“The crazy trapper that lives halfway up the mountain?”

“That’s him.”

“I thought he died.”

“No, that was his wife. He’s still on the mountain, except he doesn’t do much trapping anymore. Breeds rabbits instead, and does some logging work now and then.”

“Okay, I know who he is,” said the ranger. “What about him?”

“Well,” the sergeant sighed. “He says he’s just lost a few of his animals—a couple of rabbits and his dog, Jaeger.” A pause. “Says they were killed by wolves.”

Garrett said nothing for a moment. Then finally, “Wolves, you say.”

At the mention of wolves, Garrett’s wife, Phyllis, came into the room. She stood silently by her husband’s side, her hands folded across her stomach and a look of grave concern on her face.

“I didn’t say that,” said the sergeant. “Ernie Ilson did.”

“Wolves don’t kill dogs,” Garrett said. “And they sure don’t break into cages and steal rabbits.”

“Well, this one did,” said the sergeant. “Ernie said he saw it running into the forest with one of his rabbits in its mouth.”

Garrett had no response. This was bad news, as much for what had happened as for the timing of it. Redstone had just finished dealing with a story about killer wolves and a lost little girl who had to be rescued from a starving pack of them. If these were the same wolves, the people of Redstone still had a problem on their hands. Perhaps a bigger problem than even Ernie Ilson and the sergeant realized.

“Ernie’s pretty upset,” said the sergeant. “That dog was everything to him…”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“He’s all fired up and wants to get a posse together to hunt down these wolves before anyone else loses an animal.”

Garrett shook his head. “Guns are a bad idea.”

“I told him that. Told him a lot of other things too, but nothing’s getting through. Which sort of brings me to why I’m calling.”

“You think I can convince him to put down his gun?” Garrett said, unable to keep his doubt from affecting his voice.

The phone was silent a moment and the ranger could picture the sergeant shrugging his shoulders. “It’s worth a try,” the sergeant said. “Besides, you’re going to want to come by and see the dog’s body and the rabbit cages…so it might as well be now, as opposed to later.”