His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. "Are you family?"

"No. Just the friend of a friend. He thought I needed some time out of the city and brought me here for the weekend." Mike Celluci wouldn't have believed the lie for a moment - he'd often said Vicki was the worst liar he'd ever met - but some of the tension went out of Carl's shoulders and he turned the car out onto the dirt road and headed north.

"I just met them this weekend," she continued matter-of-factly. Experience had taught her that the direct approach worked best with no nonsense people like her host. "Do you know them well?"

Carl's mouth thinned to a tight white line but after a moment he said, "When I first moved here, ten, eleven years ago now, I tried to get to know them. Tried to be a good neighbor. They were not interested."

"Well, they are pretty insular."

"Insular!" His bark of laughter held no humor. "I tried to do my duty as a Christian. Did you know, Ms.

Nelson that not one of those children have been baptized?"

Vicki shook her head but before she could say anything, he continued. "I tried to bring that family to G.o.d, and do you know what I got for my caring? I was told to get off their property and to stay off if Icouldn't leave my G.o.d at home."

You're lucky you didn't get bit,Vicki thought. "I bet that made you pretty mad."

"G.o.d is not something I carry around like a pocketbook, Ms. Nelson," he told her dryly. "He is a part of everything I do. Yes, it made me angry ..."

Angry enough to kill?she wondered.

"... but my anger was a righteous anger, and I gave it to the glory of the Lord."

"And what did the Lord do with it?"

He half turned toward her and smiled. "He put it to work in His service."

Nowthatcould mean any number of things. Vicki stared out the window.How doyou bring up the subject of werewolves? "Your nephew mentioned that you're a birder. ..."

"When I can spare time away from the garden."

"Ever go into the conservation area?"

"On occasion."

"I have a cousin who's a birder." She had nothing of the sort; it was a textbook interrogation lie. "He tells me you can see all sorts of fascinating things out in the woods. He says the unusual and bizarre lurk around every corner."

"Does he? His list must be interesting then."

"What's the most interesting species you've ever identified?"

Gray brows drew down. "I had an Arctic tern once. No idea how it got so far south. I prayed for its safe flight home and as I only saw it the once, I like to think my prayers were answered."

"An Arctic tern?"

"That," he told her without taking his eyes off the road, "was exactly the reaction of the others I told. I never lie, Ms. Nelson. And I never give anyone a chance to call me a liar twice."

She felt as though he'd just slapped her on the wrist. "Sorry."Well, that got me exactly nowhere.

"Looks like good hunting out here," she said casually, peering out the car window, watching trees and fields, and more trees and more fields go by. "Do you hunt?"

"No." The single syllable held such abhorrence, such strength of emotion, Vicki had to believe it. "Taking the lives of G.o.d's creatures is an abomination."

She squirmed around to face him, wondering how he'd rationalize his diet. "You don't eat meat?"

"Not since 1954."

"Oh." His point. "What about your nephew?"

"In my house he follows my rules. I don't try to run the rest of his life."Nor do you approve of the rest of his life,Vicki realized. "Has he been staying with you long?"

"No." Then he added, "Mark is my late sister's son. My only living relative."

Which explains why you let the slimebag stay around at all.She sensed his disapproval, but whether it was directed at her or at Mark she couldn't say. "I've, uh, never hunted," she told him, attempting to get back into his good graces. Technically it was the truth. She'd never hunted anything that ran on four legs.

"Good for you. Do you pray?"

"Probably not as much as I should."

That startled him into a smile. "Probably not," he agreed and pulled over at the end of the long lane leading to the Heerkens farm. "If you'll excuse me, this is as far as I can take you."

"Excuse you? You've saved me a long hot walk, I'm in your debt." She slid out of the car and with one finger holding her gla.s.ses, leaned back in through the open window. "Thanks for the ride. And the water.

And the chance to see your garden."

He nodded solemnly. "You're welcome. Can I convince you to join me at worship tomorrow, Ms.

Nelson?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Very well." He seemed resigned. "Be careful, Ms. Nelson; if you endanger your soul you endanger your chance of eternal life."

Vicki could feel his sincerity, knew he wasn't just saying the words, so she nodded and said, "I'll be careful." and stepped back onto the shoulder. She waited where she was until he maneuvered the big cararound in a tight three point turn then shifted the weight of her bag on her shoulder, waved, and started toward the lane.

Which was when she saw Storm emerge from the hedgerow about a hundred meters down the road.

Tongue lolling, he trotted toward her, sunlight shimmering in the golden highlights of his fur.

Tires growled against gravel, the big sedan picked up speed, and headed right for the young wer.

Vicki tried to yell - to Storm, to Carl, she wasn't sure ut all that came out of a mouth gone suddenly dry was a strangled croak.

Then, in a spray of dirt and small stones, it was over.

Carl Biehn, his car, and his G.o.d, disappeared down the road and Storm danced a welcome around her.

As her heart started beating again, Vicki settled her gla.s.ses back on her nose, her free hand absently rubbing the warm fur between Storm's ears. She could have sworn. ...I must've got just a little too much sun.

Finding nothing to interest him in the highly overrated great outdoors, Mark Williams wandered back into the house and pulled a cold beer out of the fridge. "Thank G.o.d dear Uncle Carl has nothing against 'alcohol in moderation.' " He laughed and repeated, "Thank G.o.d." Hopefully, that blonde b.i.t.c.h was getting an earful of peace and love and the rest of that religious c.r.a.p from the crazy old coot.

She hadn't been his type anyway. He liked his women smaller, more complacent, willing to be overwhelmed. The kind he could be sure wouldn't go screaming to the police over every little bending of the rules.

"What I like is the kind of woman that doesn't land me in the middle of G.o.dd.a.m.ned nowhere." He took a long swallow of beer and looked out the kitchen window at the fields shimmering in the heat. "s.h.i.t." He sighed. "This is all Annette's fault."If Annette hadn't been ready to blow the sweet little operation he'd been running out of Vancouver, he wouldn't have had to have her killed so quickly that he'd had to hire professional help, and sloppy professional help at that. He shuddered to think of how close he'd come to spending his most productive years behind bars. Fortunately, he'd been able to arrange it so that the hired help had ended up taking the fall. He'd barely been able to close down the business, realize most of the projected profits, and get out of the province before the hired help's family had arrived to demand their share.

"And thus I find myself in the a.s.s-end of civilization." He finished the beer and yawned. It could've been worse; the nights, at least, offered rare sport. Grinning, he tossed the empty into the case. Last night's bit of fun had proven his skills were still as sharp as they'd ever been.

A second yawn threatened to dislocate his jaw. He'd been up until the wee small hours of the morning and been awakened obscenely early. Maybe he should head upstairs for a nap. "Don't want the fingers trembling at a critical moment. Besides," he grabbed another beer to take with him, "there's b.u.g.g.e.r all else to do until dark."

When an overgrown lilac hedge blocked the line of sight from the road, Vicki silently handed Peter his shorts.

"Thanks. What were you doing with old man Biehn?"

"I came out of the woods on his property." It certainly wasn't going to hurt anything if Peter believed she'd chosen her direction on purpose. "He gave me a ride back."

"Oh. Good thing Uncle Stuart didn't see him."

"Your uncle really ran him off?"

"Oh yeah, and if Aunt Nadine hadn't stopped him, he'd have probably attacked."

Vicki felt her brows go up and she turned her head to look at Peter directly. She gotten used to the disembodied voices of the people walking beside her but occasionally she just had to see expressions."He'd have attacked over a difference in religion?"

"Is that what old man Biehn said?" Peter snorted. "Jennifer and Marie were six, maybe seven, and Aunt Nadine was pregnant with Daniel. Old man Biehn came over - he dropped by pretty often back then, trying to save our souls, and it was driving us all nuts - and he started talking about h.e.l.l. I don't know what he said 'cause I wasn't there, but he really scared the girls and they started to howl." Peter's brows drew down and his ears went back. "You don't do that to cubs. Anyway, Uncle Stuart showed up and that was that. He's never come back."

"He was pretty angry about it," Vicki offered.

"Not as angry as Uncle Stuart."

"But you must see him occasionally. ..."

Peter looked confused. "Why?"

Vicki thought about that for a moment.Why, indeed? She hadn't seen the two young men who lived in the back bas.e.m.e.nt apartment of her building since the day they'd moved in. If in almost three years she hadn't run into them in the hallway, by the only door. ...Well, the odds are good you can miss someone indefinitely out here in all this s.p.a.ce. "Never mind."

He shrugged, the fine spray of red-gold hair on his chest glinting in the sun. "Okay."

They'd come to the end of lane and Vicki leaned gracefully against the huge tree that anch.o.r.ed it to the lawn. Mopping her dripping brow, she opened her mouth to ask where everyone was when Peter threw back his head and ran his voice wordlessly up and down a double octave.

"Rose wants to tell you something," he said by way of explanation.

Rose wanted to tell her about Frederick Kleinbein."I think she's imagining things," Peter volunteered after his sister finished talking. "What do you think, Ms.

Nelson?"

"I think," Vicki told them, "that I'd better go speak to Mr. Kleinbein." She didn't add that she doubted the tree's falling at that time and in such a way had been entirely natural. Off the top of her head, she could think of at least two ways it could be done without leaving a scent for the wer to trace. Had Peter actually left the car, she was pretty certain he'd have returned to find his twin had been shot the same way as Silver and Ebon. Which meant the a.s.sa.s.sin's pattern wasn't tied to that tree in the woods. Which opened up a whole new can of worms.

Thank G.o.d for Frederick Kleinbein.His arrival had no doubt saved Cloud's life and, simultaneously, removed him from the suspect list.

All things considered though, she thought she'd better have a talk with him anyway.

Rose shot a triumphant look at her brother. "He lives just back of the crossroads. I can tell you how to get there if you want to take Henry's car."

"Henry's car?"

"Yeah. It's about three and a half miles, maybe a bit more. It's easy enough for four legs but a bit of a hike for two."

Peter leaned forward, nostrils flared. "What's wrong?"

Nothing's wrong. But, just as I suspected, I'm p.i.s.s useless out here. You see, I can't. See that is. And I can't drive. How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do anything and what the h.e.l.l can I tell you. ...

She jumped as Rose reached out and stroked her arm, callused fingers lightly running over sweaty skin.

She realized the touch was for comfort, not pity, and stopped herself from jerking the arm away."I don't drive," she told them, her voice hard-edged to keep it from shaking. "I can't see well enough."

"Oh, is that all." Peter leaned back relieved. "No problem. We'll drive you. I'll just go get the keys." He flashed her a dazzling grin and loped off to the house.

Oh, is that all?Vicki watched Peter disappear into the kitchen then turned to look at Rose, who smiled, pleased that the problem had been solved.Don't judge them by human standards. The phrase was rapidly becoming a litany.

"... anyway, Uncle Stuart says that if you want the wood, it's yours."

"Good, good. You tell your uncle, I get it when heat breaks." Frederick Kleinbein swiped at his dripping face with the palm of one beefy hand. "So, I have late raspberries that rot because I am too fat and lazy to pick; you interested?"

The twins turned to Vicki, who shrugged. "Just don't ask me to help. I'll stay here in the shade and talk to Mr. Kleinbein." And as Mr. Kleinbein very obviously wanted to talk to her. ...

"So," he began a moment later, "you are visiting from the city. You know Heerkens for long?"

"Not long at all. I'm a friend of a friend. Do you know them well?"

"Not what you call well. No." He glanced over to where Rose and Peter were barely visible behind a thick row of raspberry canes. "They keep apart that family. Not unfriendly, distant."

"And people respect that?"

"Why not? Farm is paid for. Kids go to school." The finger he waggled in her direction looked like a half cooked sausage. "No law says got to be party animals."

Vicki hid a smile. Party animals - now that was a concept.

He leaned forward, his whole bearing proclaiming he had a secret.

Here it comes,Vicki thought.

"You stay with them so you must know."

She shook her head, fighting to keep her expression vaguely confused. "Know what?"