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"Maybe the smartest thing to do is to take some action here," Big Dave said from his post at the back of the room. "Seeing how we're stuck waiting on the Staties to get their shit together and come out to lend us a hand, maybe what we need to do is organize a hunting party. A wolf-hunting party."
"It wasn't wolves," Alex murmured, her mind flashing back unwillingly to the sight of the bloodied track she saw in the snow. It hadn't been left by a wolf, nor any other kind of animal, of that she was certain. But a small voice whispered that it wasn't exactly human, either.
So ... what, then?
She shook her head, refusing to let her thoughts wrap around the answer she hoped--prayed--could not be true.
"It wasn't wolves," she said again, lifting her voice over the din of paranoia running as rampant as a disease all around her. She stood up and turned to face the vengeful crowd. "No wolf kills like this, not by itself. Not even the boldest pack together would do this."
"Miss Maguire is right," said Sidney Charles, one of Harmony's Native elders and the town's longrunning mayor, even if he held the office in name only in recent years. He nodded to Alex from his seat in the front row of the church, the dark hair of his leather-bound ponytail shot with gray, his tanned face lined the deepest at the corners of his mouth and eyes, creases earned from his kindhearted, jovial nature. Today he was somber, however, the heavy weight of all this talk of death showing in the slump of his otherwise proud shoulders. "Wolves have a respect for mankind, as we should respect them. I have lived a long time, long enough that I can promise you they did not do this awful thing. If I live for a hundred more years, I will never believe they would."
"Well, all due respect, Sid, but I, for one, would rather not take that chance," Big Dave said, to the ready agreement of several other men standing nearby. "Last I knew, there weren't no season on dealing with problem wolves. Ain't that right, Officer Tucker?"
"No, there's not," Zach relented. "But--"
Big Dave went on. "If we've got wolves threatening human settlements, folks, then it's our right to defend ourselves. Hell, it's our goddamned duty. I sure as shit don't want to wait around until some rangy pack decides to attack again."
"I'm with Big Dave on this," said Lanny Ham, shooting up from his seat like a rocket. He wrung his hands in front of him, his nervous gaze darting around the room. "I say we take action before the same kind of trouble comes to roost right here in Harmony!"
"Are any of you listening at all?" Alex challenged, her anger flaring. "I'm telling you, wolves were not responsible for what happened to Pop Toms and his family. They were attacked by something terrible, something horrific ... but it wasn't a wolf. What I saw out there could not have been done by any kind of animal. It was something else--"
Alex's voice snagged in her throat as her gaze strayed to the back of the church and clashed with a pair of silver eyes so piercing they stole her breath. She didn't know the black-haired man who stood there in the shadows near the door. He wasn't from Harmony, or any of its far-flung neighboring towns. Alex was sure she'd never seen those lean, razor-sharp cheeks and square-cut jaw, or the startling intensity of his gaze, anywhere before in the whole of the Alaskan interior. His face wasn't the kind a woman would ever forget. The stranger said nothing, didn't even blink his inky lashes as she went suddenly mute and lost her train of thought. He merely stared back at her over the heads of the townsfolk as if she were the only one he saw, as if the two of them were the only people in the entire room.
"What do you think it was, dear?"
Millie Dunbar's thready voice jolted Alex out of the unnerving hold of the stranger's gaze. She swallowed on her parched throat and turned back to face the sweet old woman and the other people who were now waiting in silence to hear what she believed she saw out at the Toms settlement.
"I ... I'm not really sure," she hedged, wishing she'd never opened her mouth. She felt the heat of the stranger's eyes on her and was suddenly unwilling to voice what she had been thinking that day in the bush, and in all the torturous hours that had passed since.
"What did you see, Alexandra?" Millie pressed, her expression a heart-squeezing mix of hope and dread. "How can you be so certain it wasn't animals that killed those good folks?" Alex gave a weak shake of her head. Damn it, she'd walked right into this on her own, and now, with almost a hundred pairs of eyes locked on her, awaiting her explanation, there was little she could do to back out of it. Not without making herself look like an idiot and condemning an innocent pack of area wolves to the overzealous attention of Big Dave and the posse that seemed to be waiting for permission to roll out and blow them away with no cause.
Shit.
Was there any choice but the truth here?
"I saw ... a track," she admitted quietly.
"A track?" This time it was Zach who spoke, his light brown brows drawn low over his eyes as he scrutinized her from his position at the pulpit above the congregation. "You didn't tell me anything about a track. Where did you see it, Alex? What kind of track was it?"
"It was a footprint ... in the snow."
Zach's frown deepened. "You mean, a print from a boot?" Alex stood there in silence for a long moment, unsure how to phrase what she was about to say next. No one said anything in that lengthening quiet. She felt the weight of all their focus, all the town's anticipation rooted on the tall, curveless blonde who'd spent most of her life in Harmony but was still regarded as something of an outsider because she'd come with her dad from the humid swamps of Florida. It was the recollection of those sun-baked, heat-drenched wetlands that filled Alex's senses now. She could taste the salty brine of the water on her tongue, could smell the sweet odor of moss-covered cypress trees and fragrant lilies filling the air. She could hear the trilling song of cicadas and the low creak of bullfrogs serenading the dark as she'd watched her mother rock her little brother to sleep on the screened porch of the cabin while she read to them in that soft, gentle voice that Alex missed so much. She could see the golden hunter's moon that had slowly risen toward the glittering sea of stars high above the earth. And she could feel, even now, the bolt of fear that arrowed through her heart as the night had been shredded by violence when the monsters came to feed.
It was all still there for her.
Still so shatteringly real.
"Alex."
Zach's voice startled her, made her shake herself back to the here and now, back to Harmony, Alaska, and the horrific dread that gripped her when she considered that the terror she fled in Florida might somehow find her again.
"What the hell is going on, Alex?" There was impatience in the clipped tone of Zach's voice. "I need to know what you saw out there. All of it."
"I saw a footprint," she stated as clearly as she could manage. "Not from a boot. It was from a bare foot. A very large foot, and very humanlike, only ... not quite--"
"Oh, for God's sake," Big Dave said around a snort of laughter. "It wasn't wolves that killed them, it was Bigfoot! Now I've heard it all."
"What are you doing, Alex? Is this some kind of joke?"
