Greylen pulled a set of glasses out of his shirt pocket and studied the printout. A minute later he set the pages down on his desk and pointed to a spot on one of them. “Peter Trump, room 316.” He hit the intercom button. “Derek, could you please print out Peter Trump’s history for me, and also tell me when he’d scheduled to check out,” he asked, releasing the button.

“Trump has a history here? How do you know?”

Grey tapped his finger on the page. “We have a code for repeat guests, so we can reward their patronage.”

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Peter Trump is likely an alias. What did you take for an ID? Does it say?”

“Credit card,” Greylen read. “Which would be viable, or we’d have known it was fake when he checked in. We always run them through first thing, to hold the funds.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s easy to get a card under a false name. The good thing is, Trump doesn’t realize we know who he is or where he’s staying. It’s just a matter of my knocking on door 316 and asking him to come down to the station for questioning.”

To a man, the three MacKeages gave Jack scowls that would have made a bear tremble.

He immediately shook his head. “We’re doing this my way this time, gentlemen, and we’re doing it by the book. I have to show the selectmen I’m doing something to earn my paycheck. So far, it looks as if I’ve been running around chasing my tail. What’s Megan up to today?” he asked, standing up and heading to the door. “Has her mother let her out of her sight yet?”

“Megan was locked in the lab with Kenzie when I left Gù Brath,” Grey said, following him.

Jack pulled open the door, then turned and held up his hand to the three men following him. “I’m going up alone,” he said, checking his gun tucked in the back of his belt, under his jacket. “Just give me a master key card and point me to the stairs.”

He turned and nearly ran over Derek.

“Um…here are the printouts,” Derek said, handing them to Greylen. “And Mr. Trump left his departure date open-ended.”

“Thank you. Would you also get Chief Stone a master key?” Grey said, looking down at the printouts he’d just received. “Peter Trump has been here five times in the last six months. First time was August 23.” He looked at Jack. “Not a week after Megan got home.” He looked back at the printout in his hand. “He stayed two weeks. Then he was here again in early October, when he stayed one week. Then November and December. He arrived this last time on January 10.” He looked at Jack again. “That would be shortly after Megan went to work for Mark Collins.”

Jack took the key card from Derek, walked into the lobby, then turned back to the men. “The stairs?”

Morgan pointed to the left. Jack pushed through the heavy fire door, walked up two of the steps, then turned and bent down to peek through the tiny window in the door. Yup, the three Scots were scrambling in three different directions, apparently intending to cover his ass.

Jack turned and headed upstairs with a smile. Nothing like having a few giant Highlanders watching his back.

He made it partway down the hall of the third floor, then stopped with a muttered curse. His jacket was police issue. When Trump checked the peephole and saw Jack’s badge, he would likely start shooting through the door. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the floor next to the wall, pulling his gun from the back of his belt and holding it down by this thigh.

Greylen stepped off the elevator and walked toward him. “Let me knock on his door,” Grey said. “He should recognize me and not get suspicious.”

Jack nodded. It was a good plan. They walked to room 316 together; then Jack hung back and waited. Grey knocked, then knocked again, but nobody answered.

“Mr. Trump, are you in there?” Grey asked. “We’re having a water problem with the room below ye, and we need to check your bathroom, sir.”

Still nobody answered.

Grey reached in his pocket and pulled out his own master key card. But just as soon as he stuck it in the slot, Jack nudged him aside and opened the door while staying out of the direct line of fire. The door swung open into what appeared to be an empty room.

With his gun leading the way, Jack slowly entered the two-room suite, checking the closets and bathroom and both rooms thoroughly. He lowered his gun with a sigh and Grey finally entered the room.

“He’s gone,” Grey said, stating the obvious. “He packed up and left without checking out.”

“Which probably means he’s not coming back,” Jack said, tucking his gun in his belt as he continued exploring the room. He picked up the trash can, dumped the papers in it onto the desk, and rummaged through them. “Don’t let housekeeping clean in here until I have Simon Pratt check for fingerprints,” Jack said, shoving all the papers back in the trash can. “With luck, our guy might be in someone’s database. There’s a chance he’s never coming back, but there’s also a good chance that he suspects his car was seen and has changed vehicles and checked into another hotel either here in Pine Creek or in Greenville.”

“I would guess the last, since he can’t know we’ve sent off the samples,” Grey said. “Mark Collins emailed Megan yesterday and asked how her survey was coming along.”

“Did she answer him?”

“Aye, she sent him an email saying she thought there was a mountain lion in the area to be developed.”

“Perfect,” Jack said. “Mentioning the cat makes it appear that she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Megan just realized this morning that her laptop is missing. She had me go over to her house with her to get it, but she couldn’t find it.”

Jack dismissed the news with a shrug. “The samples are what Collins want.”

Grey moved directly in front of Jack. “I’m worried that Megan herself might be a target now. She told me this morning that she had taken extensive notes on what she’d observed around the dead animals. That’s why she went after the laptop this morning, when she remembered her notes and wanted to read them.”

“Shit,” Jack hissed. “If Collins gets hold of her computer, he might decide Megan is just as much of a threat as those samples are.” He glared at Grey. “She has to stay at Gù Brath until…dammit, it could take weeks to get Collins off our backs.”

“Or an instant, for the right man,” Grey said very softly.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know where in hell you people get your sense of justice, but taking the law into your own hands is not acceptable.”

“Collins is now threatening my daughter’s life, Stone. In my day, we made sure such threats couldn’t come back to haunt us.” Grey walked to the hall door. “I will give you the same amount of time to deal with Collins that you gave Kenzie to deal with his problem. One week, Stone—and then I will take matters into my own hands.” His eyes hardened even more. “And if you fail, you will leave Pine Creek forever—alone.”

Jack stared at the empty doorway. O-kay. It didn’t get any more direct than that, did it?

Jack pulled out his cell phone, called Simon, and told him to come to the resort to take fingerprints. He then slipped the phone back in his pocket with a sigh. It was time to start thinking like his ancestors.

Taking advantage of his foul mood, Jack went to the MacKeage stables to wait for Kenzie. He knew the Sasquatch was using a horse to travel to and from the cabin where he lived with the priest, because Jack’s badge had gotten the doorman to talk about a lot of things, including Kenzie’s frequent visits to Gù Brath since Megan had moved back home.

Jack had also learned from the affable doorman that Miss Camry MacKeage was a huge flirt, but that she was all talk and no action. Presumably he told Jack this so Jack wouldn’t get his hopes up, seeing how he was new in town and all. Not that it mattered, anyway, as the doorman had heard that Camry was flying to France in a few days because of what some scientist there had discovered about ion propulsion—which, the doorman had explained, was Camry’s area of expertise.