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"You wanna quit smooching my cat and show me what you found?" I asked.
Grace rubbed her cheek across Oprah's dappled head, then set her on the floor. The cat continued to twine between Grace's ankles as if she were in a maze.
"Don't I get a drink first?" Grace asked.
"A drink?"
"Wine. Beer. Whiskey. I don't care. I'm officially off duty. " She glanced at her watch. "About an hour ago. "
I shrugged and headed for the kitchen. As soon as I filled Oprah's bowl, she abandoned Grace for the food.
I opened my refrigerator. "Merlot. Sauvignon Wane. Bud. "
"Whatever you're having. " Grace leaned against the counter, her gaze flicking over the cabinets and the windows. She was always on the lookout for something, had been even as a child. Her oddly light eyes and overly inquisitive manner had made people nervous. Except for me.
I grabbed the bottle of merlot and two glasses. "You wanna sit on the deck?"
"Sure. " Grace opened the patio door and let me precede her onto the wide expanse of white wood surrounded by the forest.
I lit the wicks on several citronella torches, which served the dual purpose of providing light and keeping the mosquitoes away, theoretically, then poured us each a glass of bloodred wine - why was everything bloodred lately? - and handed one to Grace.
She took a sip. "Ah. Much better than what we drank in high school. "
I made a face. "Mad Dog 20/20 and Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. "
"We thought we were so cool. " She lifted her glass in a toast. "To improved palates. "
"Hear, hear. " I mirrored the gesture and took a sip. The smooth berry taste made my tongue curl in pleasure, while the slight scent of earth and oak wafted across my face.
Grace set down her glass and pulled something out of her pocket. I squinted at what appeared to be a piece of bark. "So?"
Grace took a flashlight off her belt and hit the on button. When she washed the light over her hand I reared back, curling my lip as if I'd detected a foul odor.
A bright red swastika marred the surface of the wood.
"Hell," I muttered.
"Pretty much. "
"You think that's blood?" I asked.
"Hope not. "
"Where did you find it?"
"Under the apple tree where our hiking tourist says he was attacked. "
"Just lying there?"
"Yeah. " She bit her lip. "I didn't see any blood. "
"So the guy didn't manage to shoot the wolf like he thought. "
"Guess not. " She continued to frown, deep in thought.
"What else?" I pressed.
"The tracks were weird. I found his and a few half prints that could have been a dog's. Although it would have had to have been one big dog. But there was also a second set of people feet all over the place. "
