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“It’s old,” he said. “The edges are weathered.”

“How old?”

“Longer than a few months. Maybe years. A wood specialist could give us a better estimate.”

Carson looked toward town. “The Keeper didn’t carve it for us.”

“No,” I said. “He expected someone to recognize it.”

Someone like me.

Except I didn’t.

I remembered the tree and river from my visit to Eagle River during college.

I had no memory of the circle or the nine lines.

A horn sounded behind us.

A pale blue sedan had stopped beside our SUV.

Three elderly women stared through the open windows.

The driver wore a pink cardigan. The woman in the passenger seat held a pie on her lap. A third leaned forward from the back seat, trying to see around them.

“You folks lost?” the driver called.

“No, ma’am,” Carson answered.

The passenger looked at my badge.

“Dallas Police?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

All three women became more interested.

The driver parked in front of our SUV.

Carson looked at me. “That seems official.”

The women climbed out.

They moved toward us with purpose.

Will quietly closed his evidence kit.

Smart man.

The woman carrying the pie stopped in front of me.

“I’m Agnes. This is Mabel and June.”

“Detective Judy Langley.”

“You’re investigating something,” Mabel said.

It wasn’t a question.