Bram nodded. “The FBI profiler said as much but didn’t correct me on the pyromania. The way the owners reacted made me wonder if the arsonist isn’t someone up for hire.”

“Possible, but it’s not as if you can advertise your services.”

Bram chewed on the fire marshal’s words.

Tom cleared his throat. “I’m surprised you haven’t made more progress on this investigation.”

Bram’s face grew warm. “I seem to run into a lot of resistance.”

“From the locals?”

From the sheriff. “Something like that.”

*  *  *

The resort was a flurry of activity by the time we returned from the pond. “What’s going on?” I asked Wyatt.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” He spotted Roy and angled in that direction. I casually followed.

Roy was repeatedly running a hand through his white hair. He didn’t see me at first. “Wyatt, there you are. I take it no one was hurt?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “More guests are leaving. One said the bear frightened her and her daughter out of her wits. The other was in the cabin that had the dead raccoon. All three will catch a ride with Liam when he brings in supplies.”

“Did they—”

“Ask for a full refund? Of course. We do guarantee our guests will have the perfect vacation.” He spotted me behind Wyatt. His face flushed and he hurried over to me. “There you are, my dear. I hope this little adventure didn’t upset you too much.” He took my arm. “Let’s go into the gift shop and let me give you a little something to brighten your day.”

“That’s not necessary.” I really didn’t want a T-shirt or trinket from China, but Roy seemed insistent on moving me into the main building. He didn’t seem to notice my squeak.

“Some jewelry? Earrings for your lovely ears?” He moved behind the counter.

“Really, I’m fine. Maybe a bone for the dogs—”

“Not so much for jewelry? Maybe a collectable mineral from my collection? I have many fine specimens.” He pointed to a glass case displaying various rocks, all neatly labeled, at the back of the shop. “It’s the least I can do to make this right for you.”

I wanted to say the bear wasn’t his fault, that someone at the Mule Shoe might be luring bears to come closer, but I couldn’t be sure. Instead I held my tongue and made an effort to study the rocks. Most were labeled from Idaho and Montana. Keep him talking. Come up with something brilliant to say about rocks. “Um, what made you become a rock hound?” That’s the best you could do?