LITMIR.BIZ

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shore for their arrival and desperate to distract himself from worries about Amanda, he’d occupied his mind cobbling together scenarios. “Judging from the food and clothing missing from Stink — Parsons’s — house, I think Phil Cousins took them —”

      “Stole them.”

      “Probably,” Chris said reluctantly. “He seemed hell-bent on going into the wilderness with his son.”

      “Hell-bent is right,” Amis snorted. “Half crazed, according to the locals.” He was standing ramrod straight over the body, vibrating suspicion.

      This time Chris sidestepped the interruption. “I think Stink — Parsons — shot him as he was escaping in his boat.”

      “And then he got out of his boat with a bullet in his back, and took an axe to Parsons’s head. Quite the superman.”

      “There was no blood on the wharf, sir. Parsons was attacked inside his own cabin. And I believe the rifle shots came from inside the cabin, as well. I found shell casings there.”

      Amis’s gaze wavered. “That’s what the crime scene team concluded, as well. So if Parsons and Cousins clashed, it took place in the cabin before Cousins went back to his boat. Perhaps Cousins surprised him in bed.”

      “But Cousins was already wearing his life jacket when he was shot.”

      “Perhaps he didn’t bother to take it off!”

      “Did the crime scene guys find any traces of blood on the wharf? This gunshot wound bled a lot.”

      Amis shook his head. “Possibly it hadn’t soaked through the life jacket yet.”

      Or possibly Phil wasn’t the killer, Chris thought. By now Noseworthy had stepped away from the scene and squatted to examine the spongy loam of the forest floor carefully, using a measuring tool from her pack.

      “Forensics won’t be here until tomorrow, but ERT should get started here right away.” she said, still bent over the ground. “The boy Tyler is still out there. We need to rescue him ASAP. Air, ground, shore searches, and starting right here, K9.”

      Amis’s mouth pinched in protest, but Noseworthy cut him short. “The missing child is our priority. Moreover, I think someone else has been here. Just eyeballing it, I found two possible prints here in the mud. And a mid-sized canine.”

      “Amanda!” Chris exclaimed, feeling the first stirrings of hope and relief. “I bet she found the body too! That’s why she hasn’t come back. She’s gone off looking for Tyler.”

      Noseworthy’s thin lips drew down in disapproval. “Without going for help? Meaning we now have two missing civilians to search for, and no clear idea what we’re dealing with here.” She unfolded her lanky body and headed back toward the shore. “Not a moment to lose, Amis.”

      Chris and Amis caught up with her at the water’s edge, where she was consulting her satellite GPS as she fired off orders into her radio.

      Amis nodded toward the Zodiac. “I brought a tent, evidence bins, and perimeter tape —” To his credit, a ghost of a smile crept across his face. “For all the good that will do. Constable Bradley will relieve you and guard the scene until the team from St. John’s arrives tomorrow.” He gazed out to sea as if he were addressing the waves. “You did a good job with the Parsons scene earlier, Corporal, and your insights into this scene so far has been duly noted, but this is too personal …”

      His voice faded as Noseworthy signed off and stalked over to join them. “K9 is on their way, but possibly not until the morning, so ERT will establish a perimeter and start with a hasty search along the shore and the roads and ATV trails in the vicinity while there is still daylight. And —” She nodded toward Amis “— the medical examiner’s officer in St. John’s called for you with some information on the old man Parsons. They haven’t conducted the post-mortem yet, but they thought you should know that the GSR on him was negative.”

      No gunshot residue. Which means that Stink didn’t shoot Phil, Chris thought, his earlier relief vanishing. There’s another killer on the loose.

      Chapter Twenty

      By Amanda’s estimation, she and Tyler had been following the stream for about an hour when an errant puff of wind brought with it the scent of smoke. Tyler shrank back, but Amanda’s hopes soared. She turned in a slow circle, sniffing the air to pinpoint its direction, but the scent evaporated on the capricious breeze.

      She picked a dry frond of moss from a tree and tossed it into the air in the hope the breeze would catch it. When it angled to the ground some distance away, she gave a cry of triumph and set off into the wind, shouting over her shoulder.

      “Come on, it’s this way!”

      Tyler stood stock still, drawing into himself. “We don’t know what it is.”

      “We know it’s a fire. Could be a village, could be hikers.”

      He moved reluctantly, as if his feet were encased in chains, and dragged along behind her as she strode up a hill. On the other side, they came upon a broad circle of trampled ferns and strewn spruce boughs, hacked from their stumps by an inexpert hand. Amanda’s excitement gave way briefly to disappointment, until she spotted the ashes of a fire at the centre of the camp. Lying beside it was a charred, empty can, which Kaylee began to lick. Amanda examined the fire, which was cold to the touch, but, when she buried her fingers deep into the middle, still gave off a hint of warmth.

      The fire was recent! There were people nearby.

      “Hello!” she shouted. “Help!”

      “Don’t!” Tyler whispered, hoarse and urgent. She turned in surprise to see him hunched on the ground, cradling his knees to his chest.

      “Tyler, what’s wrong?”

      “It’s the terrorists,” he mumbled, his voice so soft she had to strain.

      “Terrorists? What are you talking about?”

      “They’ll kill us!”

      She knelt at his side and wrapped her arms around his trembling body. “What happened, Tyler?”

      He said nothing. Merely held himself rigid in her embrace.

      “Talk to me, honey. How do you know they’re terrorists?”

      Kaylee crawled up to press her warm body against them. Tyler’s voice came from deep inside their embrace. “Dad thought they were refugees, but then … then … they killed him!”

      Amanda caught her breath. Waited.

      “And now they’re after me.”

      She tightened her grip. “I won’t let that happen. They’re gone now. They left this camp hours ago. What happened to your dad, honey?”

      “He only wanted to help them. He’d been trying to find them for days, ever since he heard they were stranded in a lifeboat. So he was going to buy one of this guy’s boats to go look for them —”

      “What guy?”

      “This old hermit on the cape. We borrowed a little boat to get there, but when we did, we saw these four guys piling stuff into the guy’s boat. They ran into the woods when they saw us coming, so Dad … Dad went looking. He made me wait in the boat.” Tyler rocked. “I heard a shot, and when Dad came down the path, he was … he was …”

      She held him. Rubbed his back. “Take your time, Ty.”

      “He told me to take our boat and go. Leave him. I said no. Is he dead?”

      “Who? Your father?”

      “I buried my father. The old hermit!”

      Amanda hesitated. Truth was usually wiser in the long run, even with children. “Yes. So you got your dad back in the boat?”

      “Dad

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