Simpson offered a hand to David. "Well, we have to get going. Good seeing you again, sheriff. I'll be in touch if we need your a.s.sistance with anything...such as annoying saboteurs or the like." He turned to Annja. "Remember what I said."

Annja eyed him. "How could I possibly forget? There's yet another untouchable sc.u.mbag from Washington prowling the woods, hoping to disrupt a delicate ecosystem all for the sake of someone's paranoia."

Baker moved past Annja. "He's really not all that bad," he said.

Annja raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? He's a complete jacka.s.s."

Baker grinned. "Guess that makes me the jacka.s.s in tow, huh?"

Annja frowned. "You said it, not me."

Jenny stopped him. "You can't imagine it's going to be easy capturing the Sasquatch, do you?"

Baker shrugged. "That's the directive. We do what we're told. It wasn't exactly open to discussion back in D.C., if you get my meaning."

Annja glanced over her shoulder as Simpson slid on his jacket. "By the way, I saw a sample of your work last night," she said bitterly.

Simpson stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"The wolf you shot. His name was Cheehawk. That poor animal struggled to find its way back to friends before it finally died."

Simpson shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Baker, we've got to get going."

"You know it was in agony the entire time it limped back to us? And yet somehow it managed to get to people who loved and respected it. You've got to admire that kind of resolve even in the face of blatant cowardice."

Simpson's face turned red. "As I said before, I don't know what you're talking about. No one in my command shot a wolf last night. And they wouldn't be permitted to unless their life was in immediate danger."

"I'll bet."

David stood. "I hope I don't have to send you packing for doing anything excessive like that, Simpson. Because if I find out you were responsible for the death of that animal, I will kick you out of my jurisdiction and risk the wrath your superiors can heave down on me. But before that, I'll call every media outlet around and let them know exactly what's going on."

Simpson walked toward the outside door. "Need I remind you that this is a national security issue? You could go to jail for talking to anyone from the media."

Annja smiled. "Touchy, touchy. Guess Washington wouldn't be too crazy about the ma.s.ses knowing they wasted taxpayer dollars hunting down big foot because of border-security issues."

"Everyone is barred from talking about it," Simpson said. "And I can have the state police and FBI here in a few hours to haul you all off to jail if I feel like it."

Jenny frowned. "Have fun hunting down your ape, you big idiot."

Simpson backed out of the office and Annja watched as he and Baker left, slamming the front door behind them. In seconds, she heard the motor of a truck turn over and then they were gone.

She looked back at David who only held up his hands. "Annja, I don't know what to tell you. There's not a d.a.m.n thing I can do. He's got the right paperwork, and he's got the identification that proves he is who he says he is. I've got a phone call into the number on the paperwork, but I fully expect that everything will check out. There's really nothing more I can do."

"He killed Cheehawk. You know that."

David sighed. "Yeah, probably he did. But what do you want me to do about it? Even if I dig up Cheehawk's body and send it to a lab to run a ballistics report on the slug, that would take too long and cost the town too much. Plus, it would dishonor the grave site. And I don't think our friend Creeping Wolf would like that very much."

"Speaking of him," Annja said. "I wonder where he is. We haven't seen him for a few hours."

"You won't, either," David said. "He can disappear at will and stay hidden for days. He's exactly like his namesake. His grandfather taught him the kind of secrets that people never knew existed. If he wants to cause havoc for Simpson and Baker and anyone else they have out there, he knows how to do it. I almost feel sorry for them. Almost."

"I don't," Annja said. "Simpson's the worst kind of government bureaucrat. He's little more than a psychopath."

"Well, right now, he's a psychopath with the proper paperwork, so I can't arrest him. Much as I'd like to."

Jenny crossed her arms and sat down on the bench outside David's office. "So what was this thing you wanted to show me? You know, the only reason you dragged me out here in the first place before getting mixed up with all this government nonsense."

David glanced at Annja. But she only shrugged. "I'll let you two handle this. I'm getting some coffee."

David sat down next to Jenny and started talking to her in hushed tones. Annja took a final glimpse at them and then turned to Ellen. "Somehow I think this needs to play out without any involvement from me."

Ellen c.o.c.ked her head and peered around Annja. "Looks that way."

"There anyplace around here to get some breakfast?"

Ellen nodded. "End of the street. Milton's Hotel has a little cafe on the first floor. Tell Sheila I sent you and she'll do up a breakfast like you've never had before."

Annja smiled. "That sounds perfect. They have hot water in the rooms?"

"Like maybe a shower?"

"I was thinking a hot bath to get all this grunge off me."

Ellen grinned. "You may just find heaven there."

Annja slid her coat back on. "Thanks."

Outside the police station, she looked around. A few people meandered down the street, but the population seemed scarce. Annja figured most people were working someplace else and only a few would wander into town on any given day.

In the dirt in front of the police station, she could see the deep cuts made by Simpson's truck. He was clearly angry, judging by how he'd dug up bits of gravel and sand prior to getting back on the asphalt.

What a jerk, she thought.

Annja walked down the street. A small curio shop looked dark until she pressed her face against the gla.s.s and saw a small lamp on inside. Maybe after breakfast and a bath she'd come back and see if the place had anything special. She'd lost count of how many times in the past these types of little stores had yielded something incredibly interesting in the midst of the bric-a-brac.

The hotel was at the end of the street in one of those old brick buildings that seemed to dot the majority of the Midwest. It looked a little out of place here in the Pacific Northwest, but the multistory facade was a welcome sight. It had an old hand-carved sign dangling out front, weathered from years of wind, sun and rain. But something about it felt homey and Annja pushed in the door eagerly.

A stout woman approached immediately. "Annja?"

"Yes," she said, startled.

The woman smiled. "I'm Sheila. Ellen called and said you'd be coming down. Looking for a good meal and a bath, I think?"

Annja grinned. "Could I have them both at the same time?"

Sheila laughed. "Been out in the woods, have you? I know that feeling. Tell you what. Why not go up to your room and have a soak? As soon as Ellen called, I got one of the rooms ready for you, so the tub should just be about filled."

"You're kidding."