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Marie took a closer look. She could see now how the shape and pattern on the feather were too perfect, too exact. “I thought the feathers that came from an arrow were synthetic and all one color?”
Tommy shrugged and rose. “Depends on the type of bow someone’s using. Most people use crossbows to hunt. They’re more efficient. But there are still people who prefer to use a more primitive bow and make their arrows. It takes a lot more time and effort, but for some, taking pride in the arrows they make is half the fun.”
She tilted her head and studied Owen’s brother. “Do you hunt?” She couldn’t hide the skepticism in her voice. The hunters she knew from home had large, bushy beards and always wore camouflage. Tommy was as clean-cut as a child, and his uniform was pressed to perfection.
He chuckled. “Not anymore. Owen and I used to come out here when we were kids. I’d come alone after he left the house. Always liked being in the woods.”
“Well, I don’t like that someone’s been hunting without permission,” Owen said, standing. “Think we can track where this was bought?” He waved the feather in the air.
Tommy twisted his lips. “Every hunter has their own style, but the materials they use are mass produced. Water’s Edge has a couple of specialty stores we can check, but someone could just as easily buy supplies online.”
Marie bounced her gaze from one man to the other. “I get why you don’t want people trespassing, but why does it matter who the feather belongs to?” She wasn’t a detective, but they had more important matters to uncover than finding who’d bought a stupid feather.
“Might be worth looking into,” Owen said. “If someone has been out here recently, they might have seen something useful.”
Tommy stepped closer to the tree and roamed his hand up and down the trunk. “Some fairly fresh divots on the bark. How far do you think we are from Pappy’s house?”
Owen turned a wide circle. “About a mile. We’re near the property line now, but then the patch of land on the other side that Steven Piper bought belongs to Pappy as well. That’s what I’m the most interested in searching. Pappy would have spied anything out of the norm closer to home.”
“If we’re close to Bill’s house, maybe he bought the feathers.” Tommy glanced at Marie. “Is he a hunter?”
Marie snorted. “No. He always carries a gun with him, but not the hunting kind and mostly to make himself look tough.”
The memory of Bill jamming the gun in her side then shooting Lewis sprang to life in her mind, and she winced. Bill had shown her he was capable of more than she ever thought possible, but spending time and resources making his own arrows for fun didn’t seem like a possibility.
Owen nodded and tucked the feather into his bag, leaving the gloves in place. “Let’s keep moving.”
Minutes ticked by and the air heated even more. The sound of the river lapping against the bank rolled in her ears. Thirst parched her dry throat, and the desire to peel off her clothes and jump in the water nearly overwhelmed her.
She marched onward, scanning the forest floor for anything of interest. The cry of a hawk squalled above her, and she glanced up, searching the overhang of branches for the bird. A dark silhouette formed in the trees.
Marie jolted to a stop and shielded her eyes with her hand. “Guys? What is that?” She pointed toward the hut-like structure secured on a wooden platform about twenty feet off the ground, green and brown chipped paint on its sides. Excitement and fear bubbled in her chest.
She might have just found Bill’s hiding spot.
Owen stopped and pivoted toward Marie, aiming his glance to where the tip of her finger pointed. An old treehouse perched between the thick branches above him. A wave of nostalgia so strong barreled into him, he almost doubled over. He whirled in the opposite direction. Tommy was several yards ahead.
“Tommy, come here.” A wide smile slid onto Owen’s face, and he locked eyes with Marie then gestured toward the tree she pointed at with a nod of his head. “You found our old hunting blind.”
Marie hurried to his side, her long ponytail swinging with the motion. “Your what?”
He chuckled. “Our hunting blind. It’s a place you sit and hide when you’re hunting so the animals don’t see you.”
Marie shuddered and glanced up at the shabby hut. “So, you sit there just waiting for something to come along you can shoot? Seems cruel.”
A bite of guilt shimmied into his gut. “Well, when you put it like that…”
She studied him, her lips screwed to the side and nose scrunched. “I didn’t figure you for a hunter. You asked Tommy about the feather. Do you not use a bow?”
Owen rubbed a palm over his chin. “Tommy and I didn’t do much actual hunting. We just liked having a place to escape. We spent a lot of time at Pappy’s when we were younger, and there’s nothing better for a kid than a cool fort, an empty patch of land, and a BB gun.”
Tommy jogged to his side. “What did you find this time? I keep missing stuff.”
A grin spread on Owen’s mouth, and he raised his eyes toward the raggedy pile of boards he hadn’t stepped foot on for years.
“Holy cow,” Tommy said on a laugh. “I can’t believe that thing is still standing. Do you think those old nudie magazines are still up there?”
Owen gritted his teeth and gave Tommy a hard stare. Not like it’d help.
