Page 59 of Rangers Unexpected Return

He had directed us toward the camp.

Someone knocked on the door.

Before I could answer, it opened.

Mace entered carrying a tray.

Max followed him.

“I brought food.”

Carson lowered his hamburger.

“More food?”

Mace looked at the plate in his hand. “This is for Judy.”

Carson glanced at me.

Then at Mace.

Then back at me.

I ignored him.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“How do you know?”

“The sheriff did. Carson did. Will did.”

Will raised one hand. “Soup.”

Mace put the tray beside my laptop.

Steak.

Baked potato.

Green beans.

A warm roll.

It looked better than anything I had eaten in weeks.

“I’m working,” I said.

“You can eat and work.”

“Apparently not without risking grease migration,” Carson said.

Will glared at him.

Mace looked at the evidence spread across the table.

His gaze stopped on the photograph of the seventh victim.