The first hint of danger was a howl so distant, it was more a feeling than a sound.

I know these people, Sadie,” Jim said quietly. “They’re all good folks.” “I know. That’s what bothers me.

The teens had gathered in an open clearing. Behind them, the banded lines of Avion Ridge formed a ragged edge between sky and ground, a rock wall looming above the trees. Ash shivered. The hikers stood in shadow here, the warmth of the day gone.

His voice jerked Lou from her memory. She blinked and the dim bedroom returned. Outside the parted curtains, the inky surface of Bertha Bay lay silent. Above it ran a saw’s blade of mountains. Beneath, Lou knew, but didn’t dare say.

There was too much history he’d like to forget, but his memories were on the surface today, closer even than the woman across from him. For a single heartbeat the shop faded and Slocan appeared: huts in rows, men and women like cattle within its fenced boundaries.

Sparrows were an interesting bird. They had dialects unique to each region they inhabited. If Waterton had a sound, it was the lonely sparrow, keening for its mate. The trill was peaceful, but melancholy.

Beyond him lay a small, boggy lake, a few patches of brush along its edge. There was the scent of decay, and Rich’s nostrils flared in disgust. His feet slowed just as one of the bushes moved. He jerked to a stop and his knee twisted in his haste. A stone’s throw away, a grizzly bear, interrupted from its feast of carrion, stood up on hind legs.

The town was as barren as an empty movie set, the only movement from deer that wandered the boulevards. His eyes skimmed silent streets as he searched for the bed and breakfast. A half-grown fawn, grazing near the side of the road, lifted its head and hurried off to its mother.

It seemed to Rich Evans that his innocence was an afterthought. Someone would go to jail for arson, and he’d do as well as anyone else.