“Or maybe we willhave him for dinner,” Mikey said.

Emma handed him his pack. “Come on, Daniel Boone. Let’s look around and then get airborne ourselves. Those clouds look like another storm is headed in.”

Mikey followed her line of vision as he hefted his pack onto his back. “There’s supposed to be a cold front moving down tonight.”

“It’s early this year.”

“We’re ready for it. There’s only two boats left to be put up. And snow will make good tracking for the hunters.”

“Speaking of hunters, where’s Pitiful gone off to? I haven’t seen him all week,” Emma asked, hefting her pack onto her back. “I hope he’s okay.”

“No one in their right mind would shoot that moose, Nem. He’s no trophy with that missing antler, and no one would dare eat his meat. They’d be afraid of catching mad moose disease or something.”

Emma fished out the GPS and turned it on, then studied the screen as the satellites lined up and gave her a reading. “I don’t get it. Why would Wayne have kept these coordinates? His desk had no clutter, no scraps of paper anywhere else. Everything was organized and efficient. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe this is where he buried all the bodies,” Mikey suggested, raising his hands and pretending to choke someone. “He’s probably a serial killer. He’s certainly weird enough.”

Emma shut off the GPS and slid it back in her pocket. “He is a little … different,” she conceded. “But just because you don’t like the man is no reason to brand him a psycho.”

“This coming from the woman who ransacked his room looking for nonexistent letters, and who is now trying to find out what he’s got hidden out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Maybe Wayne’s running drugs, and he’s using this as a drop site.”

Michael slowly nodded. “That makes sense. He would have the opportunity to run drugs, since he can roam these woods without suspicion.”

“It’s a far-fetched idea,” Emma said.

“But a brilliant one, Nem.”

“Then where’s all the drug money? Wayne’s not exactly living the high life.”

“He’s socking it away. One day he’ll just disappear, only to turn up with a new life in a faraway place.”

Michael was clearly warming to the idea.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s work out a scenario. How do the drugs get to this spot?”

“An air drop. Which Wayne picks up and brings into town.”

Damn if that didn’t make sense. “That would mean there has to be a road nearby.”

Michael pulled out the topographical map from his pack and opened it, turning so the lowering sun would light it through the trees. “Here’s one.” He looked off to the east. “It comes in from the Golden Road, but according to the map, it’s old. It may not be passable by truck.”

“So we find it and see if its been traveled,” Emma suggested, picking up Homer’s empty cage and heading east.

Mikey folded his map, leaving the area they needed exposed as he fell into step beside her. “And if it has? What then?”

Emma picked her way through the underbrush. “We could maybe have a talk with Ramsey. Tell him about our suspicions.”

Michael snorted as he held a branch for her to pass. “He’ll laugh us out of his office. We have nothing for proof but some illegally gained coordinates marking nothing.”

Emma stopped and glared at him. “We’re going to tell Ramsey our suspicions, and then we are dropping the whole thing. You are notgoing to look for proof, understand? You are notgoing to stick your nose into anything remotely dangerous.”

“I wonder what Dad would think we should do?” he asked, knowing darn well that Ben would love to bring down a world of trouble on Wayne Poulin.

“If you tell Ben, then you’re going to have to tell him we stuck our nose in this in the first place. How do you think he’ll take thatnews?”

“He’ll lecture a bit, but then he’ll realize that maybe we can’t pass up the opportunity.”

“Michael Sands, I’m going to lock you in your room for a year,” Emma said, pushing past him through the underbrush.

She’d opened a can of worms with this little excursion, and now she didn’t know how to put the lid back on the damn thing. God help them all if Ben decided to get involved.

They found the road a quarter of a mile to the east. As the map indicated, it was an abandoned old logging road leading up a mountain that hadn’t been harvested in over forty years. The bushes had grown in, but not enough to make passing impossible. Emma and Mikey stood in the middle of the old track, looking in both directions.

“It’s passable here, but any number of old bridges or culverts could be washed out farther down,” Emma said.

Mikey started walking toward the Golden Road, looking down as he went. “There’s been traffic up here since last spring.” He moved the bushes and checked their branches. “There’s broken twigs here, but they’re weathered.”

“Any number of people like to see where these old roads lead,” Emma said, trailing behind him and studying the gravel. “That doesn’t mean it was Wayne.”

They walked on in silence, looking for any signs of recent use. “Maybe this is no longer a drop site,” Emma said after a time. “Maybe it never was.”

Mikey suddenly stopped and hunched down, touching the ground in front of him. “This track is fresh,” he said, looking around. He stood up and walked back a few steps. “And look. A truck turned here.” He grabbed a bush and fingered a broken branch. “This is new.”

Emma walked up and looked at the tracks in the road. They werefresh. She looked in both directions and then up the forested mountain. For the second time that day, a chill brushed down her spine.

“Someone was here today,” she said, continuing on until she came to a mud puddle with a tire track through it, the ground still wet from the splash of the truck passing. “Not long ago.” She turned to her nephew. “We’re going back to the plane, Mikey. I don’t like this.”

“Aw, Nem. It’s just getting interesting.”

“No, it’s getting creepy. What are the chances that two different parties ended up in this particular spot at the same time?”

“We couldn’t have been followed. We flew here.”

“But Wayne knew I had been in his desk. He might be checking to see if I discovered the coordinates and came here.”

“He knew? How?”

Emma felt her face redden. “I must have rearranged something in his desk. Or maybe he counts his stationery.”

Mikey did his own scan of the area, suddenly looking worried. “If Wayne’s been using these woods to run drugs, then he knows them well. He’d know where we’d land our plane. Maybe we should head back and make sure it hasn’t been discovered.”

“We’re going to check that plane out with a magnifying glass,” Emma said as she started up the road, searching for a game trail that turned off to the northwest. “And then we’re flying home and dropping this whole thing. It’s not worth our getting involved.”

She was talking to the trees. Mikey was still standing in the road, staring at her.

“Not worth getting involved? Nem, we can’t just do nothing. The guy could be running drugs.”

“It’s not our problem. We’ll tell Ramsey, and let him decide what to do.”

“But where’s your sense of citizenship?”

“It’s hiding behind my sense of responsibility,” she countered, walking back to him. “Your safety and my safety come first. Drug dealers are dangerous and without conscience, and we are not going to put ourselves in the middle of this.”

He simply started walking up through the forest until they came to the mountain, then turned south and skirted it.

Emma walked quietly behind him. Well, she’d done it now. Michael Sands could be one stubborn, ugly dog when he got a bone between his teeth.

She knew he would go to Ben as soon as the man got back, and tell him their suspicions and persuade him to do something about it. And she would have absolutely no control over what they decided.