John Saul
starts next week, doesn’t it?”
    “I wish it did. But in case you didn’t know, it doesn’t. There’s a strike on in Canaan, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be settled for at least a couple of weeks. So it just seems to me that it makes sense for the kids to stay here with me. They haven’t had a real vacation in years—”
    Alan stood up abruptly. “You don’t want to discuss a damned thing, do you? You’ve already made up your mind. Well, that’s just fine!” Reaching across the kitchen counter, he picked up the phone, jabbed a series of digits into the keypad, then drummed impatiently on the countertop as hewaited for the information operator to respond. As MaryAnne listened in silence, he made two more phone calls, then left the kitchen without another word.
    By the time his shaving gear was cleared out of the bathroom and his dirty underwear was haphazardly tossed back into his suitcase, Sugarloaf’s lone taxi—a maroon van with nothing more than a magnetic sign stuck to a door to advertise its purpose—was just coming up the drive. MaryAnne came out of the kitchen as Alan hurried down the stairs, catching up to him at the front door.
    “You’re really going to walk out without even saying good-bye to the kids?” she demanded.
    Alan’s eyes fixed coldly on her. “I didn’t say good-bye to them last time, either, so I guess they should be used to it by now.” He strode across the front porch and down to the driveway, tossed his suitcase in the back of the van, then climbed into the passenger seat.
    “Boise,” he said. “The airport.”

 CHAPTER 6 
    M aryAnne was just about to start getting ready for the funeral when a police car pulled up in front of the house. A uniformed officer strode up to the front porch and rapped loudly on the door. “MaryAnne Carpenter?” he asked as she uncertainly opened the door a few inches. She nodded, and the officer smiled at her. “I’m Rick Martin. I think you met my wife a couple of days ago. Gillie Martin?”
    The instinctive nervousness she’d felt at seeing him evaporated. MaryAnne pulled the door open wide. “Of course. Won’t you come in? I think I still have some coffee in the pot.”
    “No thanks,” Martin replied. “Actually, I’m here on business.” As MaryAnne’s expression faltered, he quickly reassured her. “Nothing to do with the ranch this time. At least I hope not.”
    She smiled uncertainly. “Then I’m not sure how I can help you. I don’t think I’ve been away from the place since I got here.”
    “I was just wondering if anyone here might have seen something last night. Or heard something. There was an attack up at the campground.”
    “The campground?” MaryAnne said. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
    “Maybe I’ll take you up on that cup of coffee after all,” Martin told her. As they started toward the kitchen, he began explaining what had happened. “It’s Coyote Creek Campground. It’s up the mountains to the south, maybe a mile from here. It’s not on the ranch, but it adjoins the property, and there’s no fence.” He chuckled softly. “Ted said the hikers wandering down here were getting worsethan the yellow jackets. Anyway, one of the campsites got torn up last night.”
    MaryAnne, the coffeepot in her hand, looked up at the deputy. “My God! Was anybody hurt?”
    Martin shook his head. “No one was there. The folks who were camped in the site had gone down to Sun Valley for the day, and decided to spend the night. They didn’t discover what had happened until this morning.”
    “But what
did
happen?” MaryAnne asked as she set a steaming mug in front of the deputy, who had settled himself onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
    The back door opened then, and Joey Wilkenson, followed by Logan and Alison Carpenter, came inside, Storm wriggling past them to sniff curiously at the policeman.
    “These are my children, Alison and Logan, and of course you

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