They felt strange, and the high, uncanny singing pulled me toward it, away from the little guard shack and deeper into the site. I wondered where they went and started to follow.

The deeper I went into the rain forest around the hot springs, the more the sounds resonated on my chest in uncomfortable disharmonies that tweaked up and down as if someone were adjusting the tuning of a giant harp strung with souls. The colorful lines of magical energy kinked and took on odd angles, curves, and spirals that looked like screws lying along the road. Wherever the lines crossed or knotted together for a space, the chiming cry of the magic formed a chord of Grey voices that rippled colors outward. I could see them even without sliding into the Grey.

The road bent away, but the lines stayed their general course south and I stepped out of their influence for a few steps. I stumbled and felt disoriented and deafened as I stopped on the ice-packed verge of the tarmac. Looking at the lines on the far side of the road, I could still hear their noise and feel their compelling pull. In the background, if I concentrated, there were other sounds, normal and Grey, that continued without reference to the bizarre orchestra of light and noise, clashing against it in head-aching discord.

Cleaving to the Grey I recognized, I looked around, sinking as deeply as I dared toward the grid, hearing its murmur and whine. The aberrant lines and sounds continued, but in an echoing distance, as if they were in another plane somehow, or in another room. I turned slowly, trying to gaze into the more familiar structures of the Grey and see what the cause was of this unsettling development.

But I was distracted by more familiar things. Not far from me, back toward the gate, I could see two tangled energy shapes, one more radiant and red than the other, but while they both showed some connection to the deeply buried grid and not to the freakish sound and light show, neither seemed particularly strong. I’d bet one of them was Ridenour. As much as my curiosity was piqued by the strange array of energy, I wanted to know who his companion was more, so I pushed myself back up to the normal and started back along the road as quickly as I could without too much clatter and concentrating on staying out of the singing, enthralling construct that had led me down the road to begin with.

I walked toward the tollbooth through icy ground fog, still hearing the echoes of the ethereal noise in my head, which masked the voices of Ridenour and his companion. As I was rounding the last turn, coming out of a stand of trees and nearly to the gates, the sounds fell away and I could just make out the words, “Over there before she slips out,” but I couldn’t quite place the voice.

“On my way! Thanks!” Ridenour replied.

I caught a glimpse of his companion turning and jogging into the trees, but I still didn’t know who it was.

Ridenour saw me and glared, his hands on his hips. “Miss Blaine, what the hell are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for you. Didn’t the station radio you to meet me here?” I still couldn’t quite throw off the Grey completely and saw him through a thin veil of silver where the trees around us seemed to be moving without wind, shifting in the ground and glowing with green, blue, and yellow light. Their branches appeared to reach for Ridenour, the naked alders and birches looking like bony hands among the furry greenery of the cedars. I shivered, thinking the trees were aware of me, too, in some way foreign to humans, as if they watched with incorporeal eyes. Whatever strangeness was going on farther down the road had set my imagination running in creepy directions.

“I had other business and now I’ve got some more that’s more pressing than whatever it is you want,” Ridenour said, walking the last few feet to meet me. “You should have just waited by the gate until I got back.”

“I meant to, but . . . I thought I saw something and assumed it was you.”

He snorted, heading back to his truck. “Lots of people think they see things up here. The rain forest has a lot of fog this time of year, especially out here near the hot springs. It’s too easy to misstep and fall into something, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go wandering around off the road here.” He looked at the way my Rover blocked his truck in the narrow road. “Damn it! Move this truck of yours!”

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” I asked, walking past him to get into the Rover and digging through my pockets for my keys. Ending up with the hotel key card first, I held it in my other hand as I pulled out the truck keys and unlocked the vehicle.

“I got a tip that Willow might be up at one of our greenhouses and I’d like to catch her, if you don’t mind, since it is on park property.”

I stopped and turned back to him from the open door of the Rover, tossing the hotel key onto the passenger seat. “I’d like to go with you, then.”

“What the hell business is it of yours?”

“I’d be there if you catch Willow. I’d like to talk to her and I’m not sure how long she’ll stay in custody.”

He slammed his truck door closed again and stomped to me. “Are you implying I can’t keep a prisoner?”

“No. I’m saying she seems to be hard to hold and, if nothing else, her sister may bail her out. And when you do catch her, won’t it be better if you have an unbiased witness around? Her family seems the litigious kind.”

He glowered but gave in. “All right. You’d better come along. I called Strother for backup, but he isn’t close enough. I can’t miss this opportunity! Just hurry up!”

I got in and started the Rover while he went back to his truck and lifted the barrier on the tollbooth. I backed the Rover into the interpretative center parking area a short stretch back up the road beside the sign and got out again, locking up and running to the side of the narrow road to catch up to Ridenour.

He’d turned the pickup truck through the tollbooth’s gates and lowered them again, but he was only just getting back into the driver’s seat, so I ran around and got in on the passenger side before he could do anything about it.

He rolled his eyes and buckled up. “We have to get up to the old watchtower on Pyramid Mountain. Road’s pretty rough, and it’ll take about fifteen or twenty minutes. Hang on and pray we catch her.”

The pickup lurched and leapt along the road and out onto the highway. Ridenour pointed it northeast toward Lake Crescent. I thought now was the time to ask a few questions, while the road was still smooth.

“What’s Willow doing at a park service greenhouse?” I asked.

“Forestry service and I have no idea. Maybe checking on something she put there herself. Forestry has a few greenhouses scattered around on the ridges to grow native plants for replanting in slide areas and where we’ve had to do redevelopment and construction. That way we anchor the soil and get the ecology back on track faster. But none of us check up on them frequently in the winter and one extra planter full of something might not be noticed. I wouldn’t put it past Willow to plant something illegal or dangerous and not worry too much about the consequences.”

“So you trust your tipster to have steered you right? It sounds like those greenhouses would make a pretty good spot for an ambush.”

Ridenour snorted. “Willow is dangerous and crazy, and there’s no love lost between us, but I can’t imagine she’d go out of her way to try to kill me.”

“That’s not quite what I meant. . . .”

He turned the truck sharply off the highway and onto the road that led to Fairholm where the barge was kept. I could see it tied up at the dock as the road rose a bit and turned to the west, toward the ocean and Pyramid Mountain. And there was the same bright array of energy lines that sprang out of the water and headed south toward the hot springs. It was just as it had been on Sunday, just as I’d seen it near the springs.

Ridenour interrupted my thoughts. “I’m not much for guessing what people aren’t saying, so whatever you’re thinking, you’d better spit it out.”

“I’d imagine everyone around here knows you’re pretty hot to catch Willow. What if one of them wanted to get you out of the way? Telling you Willow is someplace isolated and dangerous where you might nab her seems to get you moving pretty fast.”

Ridenour made a growling noise. “Now you’re assuming I’ve got enemies around here who’d like to see me dead. You have one hell of an imagination, Miss Blaine. Mostly we’re all pretty friendly up here.”

I reserved judgment on that. I’d garnered the impression that the Newmans weren’t great friends of Ridenour’s, and certainly Strother didn’t think as well of him as Ridenour might imagine. According to Strother, the Newmans didn’t get along with their lakeshore neighbor Elias Costigan, and no one seemed to trust Willow Leung, who probably returned the sentiment in spades. Even if Jewel Newman hadn’t said so, the strange things I’d already seen around the lake had convinced me there were other magic workers in the area. It was a safe bet there were rivalries and grudges galore between them, and I knew they’d be downright thrilled if Ranger Ridenour stopped keeping such a close eye on “his” park and let them get on with their casting and calling without needing to be discreet and sneaky about it. Not that any of them seemed overly concerned with being sussed out, so far as I could see. The lack of population gave them a fairly open field most of the winter.

Ridenour changed the subject. “So what the hell did you think you’d seen out at the springs to make you go wandering round like a pie-eyed idiot?”

“I’m really not sure,” I replied. “It’s a little strange out there, if you don’t mind my saying so, and once I was walking around, the place seemed a little spooky. It doesn’t have a reputation for being haunted or anything, does it?” The weird effects of the energy lines I’d seen could just as easily be written off to some generic ghost story as to magic, though I knew the difference.

Ridenour turned the truck onto a dirt road that headed up the steep slopes that ringed the west side of Lake Crescent, and I had to hold on to the armrest as the surface got rougher.

“Not haunted as such, though you could say it’s got its share of spirits. Used to be a fancy resort there in the early nineteen hundreds. It burned down after a couple of years and then it was just a ruin for a while. Then it was rebuilt and the water went bad. The new buildings were built in the seventies and the filter problems were fixed, so it’s been back in seasonal business since. Before that, the hot springs used to be a special place for the local Indians—maybe that’s why the resorts have always had such hard luck there. People claim to see all sorts of crazy stuff out that way: Indian ghosts, walking trees, lightning fish—”

I interrupted him, puzzled. “What’s a lightning fish?”

“Sort of a Native American dragon,” he said, not slackening the truck’s pace much over the rutted dirt track. “They fly around in the clouds and spit lightning during storms. The Quileute claim the red fulgurites that show up in the ground at the site of lightning strikes are bits of the lightning fish’s tongue. They also say the hot springs are made of the tears of two lightning fish who fought over which one owned the mountains and lakes here. They battled for days on end, tearing off each other’s skin that dropped to earth to make the tree ridges, but neither one could win, so they hid in caves under the mountain in their frustration and cried hot tears that worked up through the ground. Really it’s volcanic seeps coming up through the sandstone around the springs, but, hey, that’s nowhere near as entertaining a story.

“Anyway, related geologic phenomena are what makes the nitrogen level in Lake Crescent so low—that’s what keeps it so clear and colorful. It’s also the reason animal remains that sink to the bottom saponify and float back up sometimes. The Indians claimed that white whales would swim into the lake once in a while through an underground river from the ocean, but I think it was probably dead elk or bears resurfacing. People imagine a lot of wild things when they don’t know the real cause.”

I gave a show of thinking it over. “The soap bodies I can sort of understand. But do people really think they see lightning fish flying around?” Had I seen one during the night? I remembered a shadowshape in the wind that looked like a flying lizard, but maybe that had been my imagination....

We were jouncing around a little more violently as the road dipped and rolled over the ridges, climbing toward the top of the triangular mountain that overlooked Lake Crescent from the west. I thought I spied a building on stilts ahead, but it was hard to get a look as the pickup lurched along.

Ridenour huffed. “When there’s a storm, some of them do. People can get a little cabin-crazy up here during the winter. It’s not so bad at the lake elevation, but it’s a lot worse when you get up in the snow line around Hurricane Ridge and the tops of the mountains here, like this one.”

“How about the walking trees?”

“You’d be surprised what some people think they’ve seen when they’ve been indulging in various substances. We get plenty of folks up here who seem to think nature is less scary with the application of medicinal herbs and alcohol. And there’s always someone willing to supply it,” he added in a grim undertone.

“Maybe Willow Leung?”

“I’m hoping not, but we’ll have to see what she’s up to with the greenhouse.”

He spun the truck onto an even smaller dirt track that cut away at an angle to the mountaintop, keeping us hidden from the crest. Ridenour pulled the pickup under a stand of trees and set the hand brake. He was panting a little as he turned to me. “You should probably stay here with the truck—it’ll be safer.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather come along. Besides, if you need backup, I’ll be right there, not way out here.”

He looked me over. “Strother said you’ve got a hell of a rep with the Seattle PD.”

“Good, I hope.”

“Fella he talked to seemed to think you’re a good hand—if a little crazy.”

I nodded. That would be Solis’s opinion.

Ridenour sucked on his teeth a second, thinking. “Maybe Willow won’t bolt so fast if she sees a woman.... Got a piece on you?”

“Yes,” I replied, touching the grip of my HK pistol for a fleeting moment to be sure it was where I’d put it: tucked into the holster at the back of my hip—I’d never had a lot of luck with shoulder rigs. I hoped there’d be no need for them, but I had a spare magazine and my cell phone in my coat pockets, and I thought I was as ready as I was going to get for whatever Ridenour had in mind. I had no intention of shooting anyone or letting Ridenour do so, either, but this wasn’t my show, and I had to go along with his paranoia if I was going to get a chance to talk to Willow.

“All right,” Ridenour said. “We’ll have to walk up from here. If Strother can make it, he’ll join us in a while, but we need to get a look at the place and see what’s going on. The greenhouse is just below the old observation tower and slightly to the west of the ridge, so anyone up there can’t see us down here, but we’ll have less cover while we’re near the tower. I’ll have to shut off my radio so it won’t squawk, so stick with me, move fast, but stay quiet.”

That was going to be a bit more of a challenge for this city girl than for Ranger Ridenour, but I could always slip into the Grey if I had to. I nodded and followed Ridenour out of the truck and into the brush.

The ice and snow on the ground were harder and thicker here near the top of Pyramid Mountain. It wasn’t the tallest peak in the area, but it was the farthest northwest, and even on the ground it had a mesmerizing view toward the ocean in one direction and back down into the lakes on the other. A spindly wood-and-steel tower poked out of the ridgetop. I guessed it was some kind of fire watch station, but no one seemed to be in it today. Glancing back toward Lake Crescent, I could see a sheet of white reflection off the windows of the Newmans’ house and starlike gleams from the buildings at the Lake Crescent Lodge resort near the Storm King ranger station. I could even spot the blue glimmer of Lake Sutherland from this height and, peering sideways through the Grey, see the thick river of magical energy flowing between the two lakes and sending thin creeks of power out over the ancient landslide toward Storm King Mountain on the east.

Ridenour ushered me off the ridgetop and into a stand of trees, the lower trunks of which were buried in chest-high seedlings and ferns sprouting from an old, dead log. He pointed through the undergrowth to the south of our position and whispered, “That’s the greenhouse.”

I looked through the leaves and saw the low building of wood and glass just on the ocean side of the ridge. I didn’t have the time or privacy to try to look down at the lake again through the Grey, so I concentrated on the task at hand.

The trees around the building had been cleared away when the tower was erected years ago and had not grown back, leaving an open field of low-growing scrub on the rocky ridge. The greenhouse roof stuck up a bit on the east side to catch the early hours of sunlight the ridge would otherwise block.

I couldn’t see into the building, the glass walls being steamed with moisture, but I could see the silhouette of a human shape moving around inside.

I patted Ridenour on the shoulder and pointed him toward the shadow.

“Do you think that’s Willow?” I whispered.

“Hard to say.”

He sized me up again before he said, “I feel funny asking, but would you head down there first? I’ll move around to come from the blind spot on the left of the door. Make all the noise you like. I’m thinking she’ll concentrate on you and maybe even come outside to see what you want. Then I can catch her from behind.”

I shrugged. “It’s worth a try. If she doesn’t come out, I’ll try going in. If I don’t come back out in ten minutes, you can assume Willow’s still in there with me and make your move.”

“I’m beginning to believe that ‘crazy’ thing,” Ridenour muttered as I started off to work my way around to the tower and walk along the exposed ground to the greenhouse. I didn’t have a pack and I didn’t look like a hiker, but I figured that anyone really suspicious wasn’t going to care. If Willow bolted, we’d have to give chase, but I thought I might be able to get inside and talk to her before Ridenour came barging in like the cavalry. Either way, I didn’t think the risk to me was that great—I was just a civilian getting into as much trouble as she was by breaking and entering the greenhouse.

The bare, scraped rock of the mountaintop was slippery wherever there wasn’t a patch of the stubborn, nubbly ground cover that had made a few inroads on the surface chinks and pits. I had to watch where I put my feet, trying to step on the hardy little plants only enough to keep my footing as a chilly breeze rushed over the mountaintop. I hoped the greenery wasn’t some rare species of something Ridenour would have to cite me for trampling. I could see him from the corner of my eye, edging around to his own position until he disappeared behind the legs of the tower. I kept going for the door, making a little ordinary noise and swearing under my breath—as you do when you’re out walking on the top of a mountain and thinking your feet are going to slide out from under you any second.

My angle on the greenhouse didn’t give me a view inside now, but I could see something ripple through the Grey, like the visual representation of a single sonar ping across a dead sea. Willow—or whoever was inside—had noticed me. It would have been hard not to. No one came out to evaluate me, so I stumbled up to the door and pulled on the handle.

The door opened, making only a tiny squeak as the long rubber flap over the hinge rubbed against the glass wall beside it. The warmth of the greenhouse and the smell of mulch and cedar trees made me shiver with pleasure. I hadn’t realized how cold my walk had been until I was inside again. I rubbed my hands together and cast a glance into the Grey, looking for Willow or whoever was lurking in the greenhouse with me.

The power lines of the Grey seemed distant here, deep in the strata of rock and dirt between me and the ocean that looked like a dark blue ink stain spreading to my right as far as I could see. But the zipping, whirring bits of energy I’d seen down closer to the lake were here, if a bit less active and numerous. In the silver mist of the Grey, a whirling column of colored threads and spinning lights, wound in a whiff of scent like incense and hot brass, hovered near the back corner of the greenhouse. It was dense enough to cast a sort of shadow onto the rolling fog of the world. “Get out,” it said.

I adjusted my view and turned my head to look toward the corporeal source of the voice. The young woman occupying the swirling cloud of energy had to be Willow Leung. Her skin was much paler than her sister’s and she was distinctly more Asian in appearance. She also looked a lot younger—mid-twenties—and I wondered about the differences, but not for long. She moved toward me with a swift gliding motion, dodging the long tables full of seedlings like a feather on an updraft, her loose-fitting dress fluttering behind. The balls of energy around her flushed blue and green and glowed brighter as she started to thrust her arms out at me.

I ducked and swung around under Willow, pushing on her arms so I came up behind her. She spun to face me again so fast I was barely straight when she glared up at me. I had a good six inches on her as she dug her bare feet into the ground to hold her balance. “You must be Willow,” I said before she could make another gesture.

Even with her clothes on, she was still easy to connect to the quickmoving woman I’d seen trying to snatch a ghost on the highway with Jin a few nights earlier. The round little wads of energy were exactly the same. I wondered if she always went barefoot, or if she had just dropped her shoes someplace in the greenhouse for the pleasure of digging her toes into the warm, feathery cedar mulch on the floor.

She reared back a bit and tilted her head to look at me, her loose ponytail of long black hair brushing at the nearest tiny treetops. I imagined she was very rarely surprised, but she widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows as if she were. “Who are you?” she asked.

I gave her a thin smile, but not my name. “Your dad asked me to come find out who killed him. Your sister wants me to run the rest of you wizards and sorcerers out of town. While I can get behind that idea, I’m not sure I want to do it her way. So I guess that makes me the monkey wrench in the works.”

While I’d been talking, I could see the glowing orbs of energy brightening; Willow was gathering power to do something. I wasn’t ready for her to leave, so I reached out and scooped the nearest energy ball out of the air, closing my fist over it. It felt hard as a knot of rope and it hurt like hell; I may have contained it, but it hadn’t gone out like a candle flame deprived of air.

Willow took a hasty step back from me, taking the rest of her glowing energy globes out of my immediate reach. “That’s a nice trick. What do you do for an encore?”

“I break things.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I’m not that easy to break.”

“Maybe it’s not you I’m interested in breaking. See, I’m a stranger in town, and though I’m not sure of all the rules or all the players, I can see things aren’t as they ought to be. . . .”

“So, you won’t kill me if I pay you better than Jewel?”

I shook my head. “You have the wrong impression. I’m not here to kill anyone. I’m just not quite sure which bit of trash needs to be thrown out to make this place clean again. I’m still trying to figure out how the system works, though I think I have a loose idea.” The way she’d reacted to losing one of the spheres of energy had given me a clue: Although there were huge lines of power in the area, they were too deep for anyone on the surface to use easily—or almost anyone, I amended, thinking of the strange lines flowing out of the lake at Fairholm and taking on weird shapes near Sol Duc. That should have made the lakes the only source of power, and that should have been limited and difficult to draw on without care and effort. But something had happened: Somehow, the magic had gone wild and rambled loose like Saint Elmo’s fire, seeping up to the surface like the tears of the lightning fish. The power lines still burned me when I touched them, just as her energy ball had, so my guess was that the orbs were extensions or encapsulations expelled from the grid. Of course, I still didn’t understand what was going on at the hot springs, but it had to be related.

Willow pushed her face toward me, still keeping her body and the gathered energy globes back. “There is no system. Once upon a time, there was order. But when I was a girl, something broke. I didn’t break it,” she hastened to add, “but I’m not going to let a gift go to waste, nor am I willing to play handmaiden to one of the cardinals. And no one else would, either. If they weren’t all such pigs, we could get along, but some people are greedy. Four parts would do—one better still, as it used to be—but no one is going to volunteer to give up the power. So I do what I want, and I do what I must to keep myself out from under my sister’s heel. Or anyone else’s thumb. You really should think twice about taking her money.”

“I already have. And I’m still thinking. I’d rather straighten this mess out than make a new one.”

“Then you’ll have to restore the quarters. Or the center. And good luck with that.”

Outside I could hear a commotion and angry voices. Willow turned her head toward the sound, letting one of the balls of energy spin away through the wall, trailing an unraveling skein of light behind it.

“I’d bet that’s Strother,” I said.

Willow gave me a sharp look from the corner of her eye. “Alan Strother?”

I nodded. “Probably talking to Ridenour. You might consider running right about now.”

She flashed a tiny, mean smile and whipped one of the glowing spheres of energy toward me. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

I ducked the orb and Willow vaulted over me with a diving roll that slammed the door open.

Someone shouted. Shots rang off the hard peak of the mountain and a few shattered the glass near me. I spun and bolted for the door, too.

“Hey! Hey, you idiots! I’m still in here!” I yelled, dashing after Willow.

Strother and Ridenour were both too far back to get a good line of fire at the fleeing Willow, but that wasn’t stopping them from shooting at her as they ran forward to draw a better bead on her.

Running while shooting is stupid. You can’t get a decent sight picture, and unless you’re a damned good instinct shooter and your target does just what you expect, you stand no chance of hitting them except by pure luck. Ridenour had finally stopped and braced himself to take a better shot. So I rammed a shoulder into him and took us both down in a heap.

Willow zigzagged across the last of the open space and dove down into a copse of trees and bracken that seemed to close behind her like a door in a wall. I could hear her tumbling and scrambling down the slope, gaining distance vertically as she went. I tried to run forward and get a look to see if she was somehow flying or falling majestically downward like an actor in a Hong Kong fantasy film, but I was too tangled up with Ridenour. The plants that Willow had passed over so lightly tangled our feet and tripped us as we scurried to the edge of the cliff. By the time any of us got to it, there was nothing to see but the waving of branches in Willow’s wake. Only the startled scream of a mountain lion halfway down the slope gave us any idea where she was.

“I hope the damn cat eats her,” Ridenour muttered. Then he turned and glared at me. “What the hell were you doing in there? Why’d she bolt off like that? Did you tell her we were out here?”

I gave him an incredulous stare. “You must be kidding. You two are about as quiet as a band of five-year-olds with a set of cookware and metal spoons. Next time you open up shooting, make sure there’s no one in the way. One of you guys nearly shot me! What the hell!”

I wasn’t quite as upset as I sounded, but I really disliked the idea of getting shot again. And I was puzzled by the gunfire to begin with. Why had they opened fire on Willow? So far as I knew, neither had any reason to.

They both had the grace to look sheepish. I took a couple of deep breaths and closed my eyes for a moment before I glanced back at the greenhouse. “Maybe we should see if we can figure out what Willow wanted up here,” I suggested.

Strother shrugged, but Ridenour lit up and hurried toward the greenhouse door to investigate. We all trooped inside with Ridenour in the lead.

It took a while to figure it out, but eventually Ridenour found a pot that had been ruthlessly plundered, the small, shrubby plant within ripped in half and lying dry and limp on top of the soil. Strother and I both gave him curious looks.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Kinnikinnik. It’s a ground-hugging evergreen shrub. It grows pretty quick and they use it for securing soil in slide areas or where they’ve had to replant a hillside due to construction or damage. The natives used to smoke the leaves mixed in with some other stuff such as willow bark and blackberry. Some people say it gives you visions. While I can understand being kind of fascinated by this stuff when you’re a kid, it’s not something a grown woman should be fooling with.”

“Is it dangerous?” I asked.

“Not unless you have asthma. It’s also called bearberry because the bears love the little red fruit it puts out in early spring. But I can’t imagine why anyone’d smoke the damned stuff these days unless they were so broke they couldn’t afford a pack of cigarettes.”

Strother made a noise through his nose. “With the way the economy is, plenty of people can’t afford a pack of smokes. But I can’t see why they’d come up here to steal this stuff.”

“Does Willow smoke?” I asked.

The men glanced at each other, as if each sought the answer in the other’s face. “Probably not tobacco . . .” Ridenour said.

Strother’s face hardened a moment as he frowned at the ranger. Then he shook his head. “No idea. But who knows what habits she might have picked up, living rough out here?”

I suspected there was something else to it. The odor around her hadn’t been that of a smoker of any kind and she hadn’t taken a lot of the plant—only about half the small growth from the planter, which would have fit nicely in her pocket. I didn’t think she was stealing it to ease a nicotine fit. Though why steal it at all when it literally grew wild? I guessed I’d have to find her again and ask her.

“Does anything else look tampered with?” I asked, but neither Ridenour nor Strother could see anything more that had been disturbed.

I heaved a sigh and headed for the door, buttoning up my coat. “Then I guess we’re done here. I’m going to walk down and see if I can pick out Willow’s path. If I can figure out where she went, maybe we can find her again.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ridenour said. “After all, you’re no woodsman and you don’t know your way around the area.”

I gave him a hard look and leaned into it through the Grey. “You need to drive back down to the bottom and start at that end. There are two trucks here and I can’t drive either of them, since they’re official vehicles. And we need to start while the sun’s still up. I don’t want to be scrambling down that trail in the dark.”

Both men looked at me as if I’d gone insane. They argued with me for a while, but I finally talked them into heading down the mountain on their own before we lost any more light. I had a gun and some brains; if they gave me my purse, I’d also have my flashlight and other useful things. I was the obvious choice to follow the trail down since I didn’t have to drive.

And I wanted to get a better idea of how Willow had made it down the mountain. If I was lucky, I’d be able to see where she’d headed long before I got there—or either of the men did.