a man as compelling as this one.
“I don’t see anything, but this is the easiest place to catch the back trail to the lodge from the highway,” she explained. “Do you want to come with me or keep driving around while I check it out on foot?”
This time when Michael turned to face Renata, he looked astounded. For the first time since he’d arrived, she had the feeling that he realized a real live person was sitting beside him, not just a faceless local guide.
“You are suggesting that I let you wander through these woods alone at night on the off chance you might find a stranger who was trained in the Winnebago art of hiding?” he asked incredulously.
Renata was touched by his concern, even though she realized that his protest might be an instinctive macho reaction. “I was born here, Michael,” she reminded him. “I know these woods like my own backyard.”
“And that lodge is filled with city people, all strangers,” he retorted. “I’ve got enough on my plate looking for Grand Feather. The last thing I need is to report to Lieutenant Bauer that I’ve lost you, too.”
“Gee, thanks, Michael,” she snapped, not at all appreciating his sharp tone. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden to you.”
He glared at her for a moment, then exhaled a mighty sigh. His dark eyes were intense as he apologized. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me or mine.”
“This is Tyler,” she pointed out patiently. “Nobody ever gets hurt walking in the woods.”
“Renata, a woman was killed here! Right here at the lodge!”
“That was forty years ago.” She was surprised that he’d heard about Margaret Ingalls, but since he’d spent a good twelve hours in Brick’s police car last night, he probably had heard everything that had ever happened to anybody in Tyler.
“If they never found the killer, it might as well have been yesterday,” he insisted somewhat irrationally. “Whoever did it might still live near here. How many of the farms around your place have been sold since then?”
“Michael, you don’t honestly think that one of my neighbors—”
“I don’t know your neighbors. I only know you. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His voice was low...too low for a casual statement. It caused a strange vibration that sensitized Renata’s ears. She felt herself leaning toward him again; she felt his grip tighten on her hand.
Was it possible that he felt a fraction of what she did when they touched like this? Was there some reason beyond fraternal concern that he was still holding her hand?
“Then I guess you’d better walk back to the lodge with me,” she suggested, not at all averse to taking a moonlit walk around Timber Lake with Michael, especially when he seemed eager to keep her close to him. “I really do think we need to check out the trail.”
This time when Michael’s eyes met hers, Renata saw something she hadn’t noticed before. He was torn. For some reason he was struggling to protect her from something more than Timberlake Lodge’s out-of-town guests...something he hadn’t put into words.
For the first time she wondered if, in some strange way, he was trying to protect her from himself.
* * *
IT WAS AFTER TEN when Renata suggested that they check the house again. They had walked from the road to the lodge, from the lodge to the house and from the house back to the road again. They had listened for the sound of chants; they had watched for any ghost of motion. They had alarmed some Timberlake guests, dislodged one ring-necked pheasant hen and startled a ruffed grouse. Other than that they had seen no one.
The instant Michael pulled into Renata’s driveway, he knew that he was wasting his time. Grand Feather had outfoxed him again. The old man hadn’t sneaked off just to come right back to where Michael had collared him the first time. He was hiding somewhere different this time.
He must be working on a new plan.
“Oh, my God,” Michael said aloud as the implications of that thought crystallized in his mind.
“What?” Renata’s voice echoed his alarm.
“I’m so stupid! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”
“Michael, tell me!”
He shook his head. “Renata, Grand Feather came over here in the first place because of that damn ground-breaking ceremony. He’s going to show up there tomorrow and make a scene. I know it!”
“Oh, Michael.” She didn’t try to tell him he was wrong. “If we go there early, maybe we can stop him.”
Again he shook his head. “I doubt it. The best we can do is try to keep him from getting hurt. He is a stubborn, stubborn old man, Renata. I told you he was not senile. He’s got a mind like a steel trap, and you’d better believe that he’s thought up a plan worthy of a Winnebago chief. Damn it! He’s going to take Edward Wocheck and all the rest of us by surprise.”
Renata took a deep breath, then laid a hand on his arm.
He knew it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but his instantaneous response was anything but platonic. All night he’d been far too aware of the proximity of this terribly appealing female. “If he’s planning something in the morning, he must have planned somewhere to spend the night,” he told her, trying to place some distance between them, at least in his mind. “Unless he’s broken into one of the unoccupied rooms at the lodge, he’s going to take shelter in some other empty place.”
“Why don’t we check the barn?” asked Renata.
It was the best idea he’d heard all night. Quickly he bolted out of the car and followed Renata past the house. A single feeble light bulb announced the barn’s location. It wasn’t more than fifteen yards to the beat-up old building. Although there were no animals inside, it had six large stalls and half a load of moldy hay in the loft.
Michael hurriedly checked every stall and every corner of the tack room while Renata shinnied up to the loft. They met in the center of the barn two minutes later, ready to concede their defeat.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Renata told him. “It was just an idea.”
“Not a bad one, actually. Do you suppose he might be hiding out in somebody else’s barn around here?”
“He might, but if he is, then he’s already safe for the night,” she assured him. “This time of year he won’t get cold as long as he’s dry. But we could go visit all my neighbors...”
Michael shook his head. “No, it’s too late to get everybody in the county out of bed. Besides, Grand Feather would hear us coming and take off anyway. He’s probably better off in some haymow than he would be chased off into the night.”
Wearily he plopped down on an old milking stool and faced Renata. He felt engulfed by the silence of the empty building. Its lingering scents of leather, hay and horses reminded him of his childhood. After a moment he mused, “There’s something terribly lonely about an abandoned barn.”
Renata
