“I’ll have my attorney be in touch. Consider Davy as having counsel, Sam.”

“I understand.”

The deputy left, and at first Ryan didn’t hear anything except mumbled voices.

“Did you know?” His father’s voice was raised. His dad never raised his voice to his mother.

“No!” his mother said. “Davy had nothing to do with what happened to those girls.”

“Shit, Delilah, this is bad.”

“You know how the FBI is. They’re always trying to railroad someone.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“Davy has nothing to do with this.”

“I wish I believed you. I need to contact my attorneys.”

Ryan retreated down the back stairs and walked out the kitchen door, careful to ease it closed. He ran to the barn and didn’t realize he was crying until his vision blurred.

Why would the police think Uncle Davy had killed that girl if he hadn’t?

He’d seen Uncle Davy last night, camping in the back meadow. That wasn’t unusual; his uncle liked sleeping outdoors. He came up all the time and camped or stayed at the cabin. But Ryan usually knew beforehand when Uncle Davy was visiting.

His mother hadn’t said anything about him coming last night. Maybe she didn’t know.

Ryan quietly saddled Ranger and walked him out of the barn until he was out of sight of his house, then he mounted the horse.

He didn’t know what he was going to do. He wanted to warn Uncle Davy, tell him the police had it all wrong.

But what if they didn’t?

The camp was a mile from the house. Uncle Davy had camped there before, so Ryan knew exactly where it was. But as he approached, he saw no one.

He spotted gear neatly packed and stowed in the rotted-out trunk of a ponderosa pine. He frowned. Why hadn’t his uncle come up to the house for breakfast this morning like he usually did when he camped? Where was he now?

Boot prints headed down toward the canyon that formed the western border of the Parker Ranch. Ryan wasn’t supposed to go down there, but he’d done it many times. There was a really cool boulder field at the bottom. He, Sean, and Timmy went there whenever they thought their moms wouldn’t find out. But steep slopes and sudden drop-offs made it dangerous, especially for Ranger.

Still, he knew the area. He’d be careful.

He was about to dismount when the sound of movement stopped him. Someone was walking up the steep slope.

“Uncle Davy?”

His uncle came into sight at the same time he reached for the rifle slung across his back.

That’s when Ryan noticed the belt buckle Uncle Davy wore. Why did it look strange?

Then he knew. Uncle Davy had always worn the bird buckle. Just like the one Ryan had found in the woods near the dead girl. Only now, Uncle Davy’s bird belt buckle was gone.