…the Step, where the two-car convoy parked in front of the group of prefabricated buildings that made up Park Headquarters. Tucked against a Quilak foothill, the Canadian border at their back and the Park rolling out before them in all its glory, the view was superb out of any window. The Step, a wide, level ridge running north-south, had enough room for a dirt strip big enough for a Cessna 180 to get out fully loaded with confiscated bear bladders, moose racks, walrus tusks and fur pelts illegally harvested from wolves, wolverines, beaver, mink and marten.

They arrived to find Dan O’Brian in his office.

He was not alone. Standing, or rather slumping across the desk from him was a sad sack of a guy, mid-forties, brown hair and eyes, medium height, medium build with a chin and a waist that both showed distinct signs of regular meals. He bore trace evidence of having tried to grow a beard but it just wasn’t in the cards. His Carhartts overalls were worn at elbows and knees and looked as if they had begun life on a far smaller man. His boots were used, the toe of the right boot having been punctured with what might have been the claw of a hammer, or maybe a hatchet. He carried threadbare musher gloves leaking down that when donned would reach to his elbows, and a flapped cap with the right earflap missing.

He was arguing with the chief ranger. Kate could have told him that was a lost cause. “You want to hike up to Bright Lake?” Dan said. “At this time of year? With the snow still twelve feet deep in some places? Why?”

“I like the name,” the guy said.

Dan was rendered momentarily speechless.

“It doesn’t matter where I want to go,” the guy said. “You told me to come back when I got geared up. Well, here I am, all geared up.”

Dan surveyed the guy’s gear, which looked like it had been excavated from the nearest trash pile, and didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “Mr. Davis, you said you wanted to spend a month covering a hundred miles in the Park. I’m telling you that, uh, gear you’ve managed to scare up from god knows where won’t last you fifty feet.”

“You saw my tent,” the guy said, “it’s a good one. And I’ve got an emergency locator transmitter.” This was said with a good deal of pride.

“Yeah,” Dan said, “well, I’m not signing any permit for you just so I can come haul your ass out when you stumble into trouble, which sure as shit you will, and set off your ELT, which also sure as shit you will. Now get out of my goddamn office, and don’t come back until you’ve got a fucking clue as to what you’re doing!”

Kate thought of Maggie. Happy Memorial Day, everybody.

Davis, red-faced and angry, clumped past Kate and the Grosdidiers without speaking. His boots weren’t laced and they must have been too big because one of them almost slipped off his foot. He tripped on the threshold and would have gone sprawling if Pete and Matt hadn’t caught him and set him upright again. He yanked his arms free of their grasp and clumped off without a word of thanks.

Dan looked around and acquired Kate as a target. “And what the hell do you want?”