“Fucking boots!” That’s the last time I wear flat heels.

Fang hadn’t answered my calls or returned my messages. That’s the only reason I was looking for Dogtown. I hadn’t been there since the infamous grad party night, or morning rather, when I woke up in the back of his truck. I had been in a coma on the way in and my eyes had been closed the whole trip out. I had never been back. Hence, I wasn’t exactly sure where to find Dogtown.

It was somewhere farther north of the town’s limits than Hemp Hollow, where I spent two of the most unpleasant years of my life, but west of the highway. Maybe. It’s not like there’s a sign pointing the way to Dogtown. It wasn’t even a real town. But it bordered Ghost Swamp — so-called because the mist rising from its odoriferous waters resembled spirits.

I made a left turn off the highway, then alternated left and right. When I estimated I had gone too far, I backtracked. The snow fell faster, making visibility a challenge. Within minutes, the daylight disappeared behind a maple forest stripped of leaves.

If I hadn’t been so pissed at Redfern, I would have gone home and looked for Fang tomorrow. Now, I had no idea where the highway was. I needed to buy a GPS.

The snow was at least twenty centimetres deep on the road. And there were no tire tracks to lead me to safety. A swamp lurked somewhere around here and it would be just my luck to drive right into it. I stopped the car and pulled my phone out. I hesitated.

If I called Redfern, he would search for me. Hell, he would have the whole force search for me. Then I would have to listen to a lecture about … well, so many things. I wasn’t up for it, definitely not desperate enough yet. I opened the window and stuck my head out. I sniffed. Putrefied vegetation with a touch of dead animal odour. I had to be close to the swamp. It hadn’t frozen over yet. Therefore, Dogtown was nearby …

Not twenty-five metres beyond the side of my car, I saw lights shimmer through a gap in the treeline. I shut off my car and started walking. The lights danced crazily in the wind, appearing and disappearing. The snow covered my ankles, packing into my boots. I heard voices, or was that the howling of wolves? I’d take swamp ghosts over wolves any day.

I stopped at a high chain-link gate — thrown open, thank God. I trudged through the gateposts. Strings of coloured lights hung between trailer homes. Flames from a bonfire defied the snow and soared skyward. Packs of children and a few dogs ran between the trailers. The sounds of a crackling fire, screaming children, and barking dogs never sounded better. I wasn’t alone in the storm!

Several of the dogs — they looked more like coyotes — faced me and growled low in their throats. One of the wee sprites caught sight of me and screamed in fright. Another shouted, “Papa, Papa, come quick. It’s a witch!” Another shouted, “Monster! Monster!”

Kind of rude. “Excuse me, sweetie. Can you tell me where this is? I’m lost.” Several more mutts joined the growling pack and soon they all snarled and gnashed their fangs at me. Chances were pretty good this was Dogtown, but confirmation would be useful.

A man’s figure materialized beside me. As he came closer, I saw he was carrying an armful of logs. “Never mind, Chevy. It’s just a lady, not a witch or monster. Go back to playing, but mind the fire.”

The kids ran off, but the dogs stayed.

I couldn’t make out the man’s features. They were hidden behind a beard that seemed to have no end. A Toronto Maple Leafs toque hid his eyebrows.

“You lost, young lady?”

“Is this Dog…, uh, yes, I’m lost.”

“This is Dogtown. Where are you headed?”

“Well, Dogtown.”

“So, you found it. You can’t be lost.”

“I don’t know how I got here, or how to get back to the highway.”

“Young lady, you’re confusing me. Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for F…, uh, Rupert Davidson.”

“Fang? I’m his dad. What do you want with Fang? You don’t have a bun in the oven, do you? Hope not. You’re, what, barely five feet tall? You’d shorten our gene pool considerably.” He chortled and threw a log into the fire.

“No bun. And I’m five foot two. Fang isn’t answering his phone, and I want him to look at my eavestrough. Parts of it are coming loose from the house.” Boy, this had been such a bad idea. “I’m really sorry about Faith, Mr. Davidson. She was a nice person, and smart. Is there going to be a service?”

He peered into my face. “Say, you’re that little girl Fang brought home in the back of his truck one time, aren’t you? You were wrapped up in a rug and I had to drive you home.”

“Yes, I was only seventeen then.”

“I guess you were at that. That was the night Faith disappeared, though it was a couple of days before we knew she wasn’t at my sister’s in Toronto. After a while we sensed she wasn’t coming back, but we never thought she was so close by.” He lifted his face to the falling snow. “It’s warming up. We’ll have rain by morning.”

Right. Like it was going to rain before next April. Maybe May. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to harm Faith.”

“There was something on her mind that weekend. But she wouldn’t say. Now I wonder if it had anything to do with … well, with what happened to her. I wish we’d tried harder to find out what was troubling her.” Another log flew into the flames and he shouted over my head, “Edsel Margaret Davidson! I told you to mind the fire. Get home now!”

“I’m sure if she was ready to tell you, she would have, Mr. Davidson.”

“Nice of you to say that, young lady, but we’ll never know, not now. They haven’t said for sure it’s Faith — took some DNA from me and her mother. But we already know. Once they get their testing done, we can have a funeral and bring her home.” He gestured with his head to an area beyond the trailers. “We have our own family cemetery. We’ll put Faith there. Maybe in the spring.”

“Have you told the police that something was bothering Faith that weekend?”

“I told them. Say, you sure you’re not after Fang for yourself? You used to pal around with him, I remember. He’s got a wife and four children now, you know.”

“So I hear. I’m not after him, honestly. I didn’t realize how hard it is to find Dogtown in a snowstorm.”

The remaining logs tumbled into the fire. “All right, then. He’s not home right now. He says you’re a pain in the ass. That’s why he won’t answer, but I’ll give him the message and make sure he calls you back.”

“Okay. Can you give me directions back to the highway?”

Mr. Davidson walked me to the gate. “Your car is pointed east. Keep going and take the first right and it will take you to the highway. Mind the swamp. Turn right again to get back to town.”

“Thanks. How come you don’t have your gate closed? I thought you like to keep strangers out?” I slipped in the deep snow, and Mr. Davidson grabbed me by my scarf and pulled me upright.

“Probably wouldn’t have kept you out, would it? We only close it on Sundays, to slow down the Jehovah Witnesses. It’s hard to discourage them, believe it or not. They seem to think we’re a pack of heathens in here.” He tightened his grip on my scarf and hauled me across the road to my car. I put my fingers under the knot to loosen it.

“Oh, that’s easy, Mr. Davidson. Just tell them you’re Wiccans. It works for me.” He opened my door and I climbed in. Sheets of snow slid onto my seat and floorboards.

“Huh. Wiccans, eh? I’ll try it. I don’t suppose you have anything for the Mormons?”

“Tell them you’re Jehovah’s Witnesses. That should do it.”

“Thank you kindly, young lady. I’ll tell Fang to call you tomorrow. You drive safely now.” White, even teeth gleamed through the dark moustache and beard.