Chapter 3


Stan slowly pushed a fern aside and tilted his head until he could just make out the lieutenant. The man was standing in the shadow of an enormous redwood whose trunk could have hidden half a dozen soldiers. They were ten miles inland from the Pacific Ocean and the redwoods grew huge here, fed by the mist that collected against the Santa Cruz Mountains. Today the mist had burned away, and sun filtered through the giant trees. It reflected off the lieutenant's sable hair as he looked from side to side, his long braid swinging first one way and then the other. Stan wished he would get on with it and make his move; the heat was getting to him. His head felt heavy on his neck and a cloud of insects were droning in his ear. Normally he was good at this kind of surveillance, but not today. Today he had something else on his mind.

What is Cassie doing in Santa Cruz?

Stan blinked his eyes, not allowing himself any other kind of movement, not even when a drop of sweat ran down his neck and under the neckband of his t-shirt. Focus, he told himself. You can think about her later. For now he had to keep his mind on the task at hand. He could lose the lieutenant in an instant if he wasn't careful; or worse, he could betray his own presence. He didn't even want to consider the consequences of that.

The lieutenant crept forward and Stan did, too, edging out from behind the ferns and darting soundlessly toward another massive redwood. They were on state park land now - Henry Cowell State Park - heading for one of the most popular paths through the old growth forest. After what he'd seen yesterday, Stan wanted some answers. He'd been following the lieutenant to the brown-shingled house across the street from the meadow for months now, and he had seen the heavyset, yellow-haired wachee woman - Lisa - each time when she opened the door. Still, he'd always assumed there was a man in there somewhere - a connection to the Australians. What he'd learned yesterday from Cassie made no sense. Why would the lieutenant be interested in a woman who rented out rooms?

And what was Cassie doing here in Santa Cruz?

Stan shook his head. The last time he'd seen her was back in New York when they'd both been children. She'd been all sturdy legs and pigtails then, chattering non-stop like a magpie, even when she'd thought she was alone. He'd been in his first year of training with the Forest Authority, not supposed to have anything to do with wachee girls, but he'd hated every minute of the drills and maneuvers, the hazing and petty abuse heaped on him by the older soldiers, so while he'd followed the letter of the law, he had not followed the spirit of it.

Stan smiled at the memory. Cassie had made it easy back then. She did everything out loud, without a trace of self-consciousness. She would come running into the woods, already in the throes of some dramatic storyline, like a one-woman acting company performing in the round. It wasn't hard to catch on to the day's scenario, and Stan, out of boredom at first, and then because it turned out to be fun, had made a game of sneaking around her and supplying the props she needed to carry out her story. The trick was to keep everything natural, so that she wouldn't suspect. When she needed a battering ram to storm a castle, he would haul over a log just thick enough to be convincing, but short enough for her to be able to lift by herself. When she needed something to feed to her imaginary dragon, Stan made sure she found a stockpile of pinecones. Of course, the real fun lay in seeing just how far he could go before she suspected something. More than once he'd crossed the line, and she'd frozen in surprise when she came upon his latest offering, her head cocked to the side, listening to the forest as if it could tell her who was there playing tricks on her. At those times, Stan had crept as close to her as he could. He'd wanted to be caught, but he was too good at hiding, even back then. Or maybe she didn't really want to know, Stan thought. He forced himself back to the present with an impatient sigh. He was going to blow this if he didn't get his head on straight.

The lieutenant stopped at the edge of the Henry Cowell loop trail, hesitated for a moment, and then positioned himself behind another enormous tree. He peered around the trunk and pulled back almost immediately, flicking his braid behind his shoulder with a toss of his head. Stan knew the trail well - they were at the halfway mark. It was a good place to wait for someone you expected to follow the path. Who was the lieutenant waiting for?

Stan tapped a finger against the thick soft bark of the tree that shielded him. Should he wait here or scout ahead and see who was coming this way? He decided on the latter course of action. Picking his way carefully, he traced a large circle through the woods until he came out near the path a few hundred yards closer to the trailhead. Making sure he wasn't seen, he scanned the tourists intently. Which one was the lieutenant's target?

Stan's heart stopped. There - there she was. Cassie was walking down the path, her head tilted back so far she weaved as she went. Tourist, he thought derisively, but he couldn't stop a corner of his mouth from turning upward. Wachees were suckers for redwood trees and she was no exception. It was too much of a coincidence, though, her turning up here. How did the lieutenant know where to look for her? Was she the one he was waiting for?

She must be. Stan straightened. He had to stop her from walking into the man's trap. He quickly melted back into the woods and skirted the edge of the path toward her, keeping well out of sight. Cassie followed the path and arrived at a tree that mesmerized all the tourists. It was hollowed out at the bottom, forming a cave large enough to fit six or seven people. Stan checked - the lieutenant still wouldn't be able to see them. This was his chance.



As Cassie peeked into the opening, Stan studied her again. Just like yesterday, she wore a baggy t-shirt, nondescript shorts, tennis shoes and little white socks. Her hair was longer these days, but she kept it pulled into an unflattering twist at the nape of her neck. She looked so different from the sunny little girl he used to know. Stan shifted uneasily. For one heart-stopping moment he'd thought she recognized him yesterday. Then he'd watched her curiosity turn to horror, and she'd run away from him as if he was the devil himself. Why had she reacted that way? He hadn't stuck around to see - the rules hadn't changed over the years and he didn't want Lisa to see him - but the question had kept him tossing and turning much of the night.

Now he'd been given a second chance to figure it out. Here she was, and maybe when he found out why the lieutenant was waiting for her he could get the answers to the rest of his questions, too.

She ventured inside the hollowed-out tree and Stan followed her silently.

"Cassie."

The girl shrieked and spun around.

"Hang on, it's all right," he rushed to say. "We met yesterday, remember? My name's Stan." He held out a hand and Cassie eyed it as if he'd offered her a red hot poker. Stan tried his best to look harmless, a difficult proposition for a six foot, five inch, 320 pound monster like him. "I saw you from up the path and came over to say hi."

"Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Stan dropped his hand. "Well...we've met before, actually. A long time ago."

She stared at him and he noticed the bruising above her eye again. "I've never seen you before in my life."

He smiled. "You were just too young to remember."

"If I was too young, you would have been too young, too," she said.

"Maybe I have a better memory."

She didn't smile at his feeble joke. She backed away him in the little cave, her face tight with fear. What had happened to make her change so much? Stan wondered. He had a hard time pairing the bubbly little girl he'd known with this thin teenager with her troubled eyes.

"Where did we meet?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, you know," he said. "It was back in New York, in the clearing out behind your grandparents' house. Remember the big rock near the oak tree where you always used to go? You played mountain climbing and pirate ships and...I don't know...everything." Her eyes widened and the blood drained from her face.

"How do you know that? I never told anyone about that," she said.

Stan bit his lip; he was screwing this up badly. "Never mind. Forget it - you look great," he blustered, "I hardly recognized you. It's been eight years at least."

"Nine," Cassie said, "I was six that summer..."

She had backed up so far that she was pressed against the wall of the cave. Stan frowned. She was terrified - much more frightened than the situation warranted. Could she know that the lieutenant was on her tail? He didn't think so.

"You're right," he said aloud. "It was nine years ago. Hey, settle down - I'm not a serial killer, I swear."

It was the wrong thing to say. She jerked like he'd hit her and lunged for entrance. Stan blocked her way and thought fast; they couldn't stay here where the lieutenant was sure to come looking. He seized Cassie's shoulders and hustled her out of the cave.

"What are you doing? Let me go," Cassie shrieked.

"I need to talk to you." Stan hurried her off the path and into the forest. The trees were widely spaced and there was little underbrush, so he pushed her onward, trying to put as much ground as possible between them and the path. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a tall, athletic youth with sharp features stepped out from behind a redwood tree and blocked their way. He wore his dark brown hair in the regulation Authority ponytail, his khaki shirt neatly tucked into his pants.

"There you are, Stan."



Stan reared back and nearly tripped over Cassie. "Hawk. What are you doing here?" He glanced over his shoulder. For an instant he'd thought it was the lieutenant come to stop him, but the braided man was still nowhere in sight.

"What are you doing here? Who's this?" the young man asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and gesturing toward Cassie with his chin.

Stan relaxed his grip on the girl, but only slightly. He could feel the tension in Cassie's muscles. She was poised to make a break for it, but she looked at Hawk with interest, lifting her hand to smooth her bangs over her bruise. Stan knew that look. Wachee girls always looked like that when they saw Hawk for the first time. "She's no one," he said, a little more sharply than was necessary. "Just a friend. Aren't you on duty?"

"The Cyning's here. I'm walking point."

"Jay's here?" Stan's eyes bugged. Not smart to get caught with a wachee when the head of the Western Forest Authority was around, even if Jay bucked that rule himself constantly. Immediately his mind kicked into gear, sorting through alternatives and discarding them one by one. He had to get Cassie out of here.

"A call came in. Something about the Aussies."

"Shoot. I gotta go, Hawk. I'll catch up with you later."

But Hawk held his ground, appraising Cassie coolly. "Who is she?" he asked again.

Cassie straightened. "I'm Cassie," she said.

Hawk ignored her. "What are you doing with her?" he asked Stan.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Stan said. Cassie blushed, and Stan didn't know what made him angrier - Hawk's rudeness to her, or the fact that she cared.

"She's a wachee."

"I know she's a wachee. Come on, Cassie. Let's get going." Stan hustled her along more quickly now. He could feel her tensing to try to pull away and Hawk was keeping pace with them, studying Cassie with the same mixture of interest and disgust he would have shown if he'd stepped on a very unusual bug. Stan felt his blood pressure rise, but he managed to keep his tone light; he had to make this seem casual, as if nothing strange was happening at all.

"So, do you like California, Cassandra?" he asked the girl, guiding her further into the forest. She was easy to move. Most things were when you were Stan's size.

"My name isn't Cassandra," she said, tugging against his hand.

"I thought Cassie was short for..."

"Where'd she come from?" Hawk said to Stan over Cassie's head.

"You know what? I've had enough of this," Cassie said, her voice rising a notch. She dug in her heels, looking frightened but determined. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know who you are, no matter what you say!"

"You've met her before?" Hawk asked Stan, his brow furrowing.

Stan counted to ten, wanting nothing more than to feel his knuckles crack his friend's nose. Normally he liked having Hawk along, but not today. Today Hawk was screwing everything up. "We met in New York," he said, looking back over his shoulder anxiously. "At that lake. Sacangea, Sacawega..."

"Sacandaga?" Cassie said, her eyes going wide.

"That's what you called it."

Hawk stared at the girl, recognition dawning on his face. "I remember you," he said and his distaste was plain in his tone. "You and that stupid wishing tree thing. 'I wish my father were here! I wish my father were here!'" he trilled in a falsetto voice, spinning around in a circle and fluttering his hands.

Cassie went white, then flushed a violent red.

"Damn it, Hawk," Stan said, but with a jerk she was gone. She slipped from his hand and sprinted through the trees. He'd forgotten that game; trust Hawk to remember it. Stan shoved him hard and dashed after the girl. She was fast for a wachee. She darted around tree trunks and hurtled the smaller logs. Stan could move once he got going, but she had a fair head start. Suddenly Hawk sprinted past him.

"She's running straight at Jay!" he shouted.

Fear gave Stan speed. Jay. Son of a...

Cassie shrieked as Hawk caught up with her and picked her right off the ground. He clapped a hand over her mouth and she fought harder, thrashing and flailing in his arms.

"Cassie, stop," Stan cried, catching up and grabbing for her hands. Hawk held her tightly to his chest, trying to dodge her kicks and blows. "You're going the wrong way. There's someone out there who might hurt you." His thoughts flashed to the lieutenant hiding behind the tree. Two someones who might hurt you. He finally succeeded in pinning Cassie's arms. She stopped struggling and held still, breathing hard through Hawk's fingers. "We're not the ones following you," he told her. "We're trying to help."

If she'd been scared before, she was terrified now. She pulled her face free of Hawk's hand. "My father?" she whispered. "You've seen my father?"



Stan shook his head, confused.

"No. I don't know your father, but there are people you need to watch out for. Come on, we've got to go."

Hawk stilled. "Too late," he said. "Hide!"

They ducked down quickly, pressing themselves against the shaggy bark of a thick redwood trunk. Stan heard voices coming closer - eight or nine men, he estimated.

"We caught him packing explosives into the Roosevelt tree. Enough to blow it to bits," one of them said. It was Drake, a bossy know-it-all who was a year older than Stan. He was referring to a tree near the halfway mark of the loop - close to where the lieutenant was hiding. The story went that when the wachee American president by the same name visited the park, he'd become sleepy and curled up in its hollow trunk for a nap.

"Terrorist," another voice spat, this one as edgy and rough as a buzzsaw. It was the Cyning - Jay. Stan put his finger to his lips and looked at Cassie significantly. Hawk still held her in place, crouched behind the tree, and Stan thanked goodness she wasn't fighting anymore.

Now he could see the soldiers. Drake was pointing at a bedraggled man being pulled along by two others in khaki uniforms. Jay had stopped to confront him, his sharp features stern, his long, blonde hair glinting in the sunlight. Cassie was watching the group, too - Jay in particular - and Stan felt a new twinge of envy. It was bad enough having to compete with Hawk; Jay eclipsed everyone. The Cyning wasn't overly tall, six feet at most, but he stood with that arrogant ease that let you know who was in charge. He wore camouflage pants and a cotton shirt, dusty from his walk through the summer-dry woods. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail like Hawk's; regulation Authority.

"We know what to do with terrorists, don't we?" Jay rasped, and the men ranged around him grunted their agreement. "We'll send you back to Australia in a body-bag."

"Go ahead, mate," the man said. "There's plenty more where I came from. You can't kill us all."

"Stay off my land and I won't have to."

"You've got enough to share," the man said, looking around him. "More than enough. You know what we're dealing with back home. Where else are we supposed to go? Where are we supposed to take our families?"

"Anywhere," Jay said with a shrug. "As long as it isn't here."

The man surged forward, dragging his captors along with him, and the rest of the soldiers jumped in, their fists swinging. Cassie gasped and Hawk slapped his hand over her mouth, dragging her backwards into the trees. Stan was after them in a flash, grateful to his friend; Cassie didn't need to see this.

"She's got to get out of here. Let's get her to the park entrance," Stan said to Hawk, and they rushed along, breaking out of the woods back onto the redwood loop path. Hawk stumbled and set Cassie down, hurrying her along so she had to run to keep up with him.

"What's going on?" she cried.

"You've got to..."

Hawk cut Stan off with a shove and pointed down the path. Not ten feet away, the lieutenant leaned against a bay tree, using a lethal looking knife to carve a scrap of wood. He looked up lazily, his long black braid slipping over his shoulder, and surveyed them with an unreadable expression. Cassie frowned as if she recognized the man. She stepped closer to Hawk as the lieutenant stood up and approached them. Smart girl, Stan thought. You should be afraid of him.



"Who's this, then?" the man said to Stan and Hawk with a nod toward Cassie. "Who's this wachee girl?" He slipped his knife into a leather sheath at his belt and grabbed Cassie's arm. Ignoring her cry of pain, he flipped up her bangs with his other hand, examining the bruises on her face.

"Just some girl. We met her on the trail," Hawk mumbled.

The man wheeled around to face him. "Just met her and leading her straight to Jay?"

"No," Hawk said. "We didn't mean to..."

The lieutenant lifted an eyebrow and Hawk looked down. "Wait until the Cyning hears." He turned back to Cassie. "What's your name?"

"I...um," she faltered. She looked to Stan and he shook his head at her. Don't tell him, he mouthed. Cassie took a breath. "Rachel," she said.

The lieutenant turned to Stan. "Old friend of yours?"

"No," Cassie blurted out before he could answer. "We just met today."

Stan suppressed a smile; she was good at this.

"Yeah," he said to the lieutenant, "We just met today."

The man scowled , leaned forward, and looked from Hawk to Stan. "Run along. Both of you. I'll take care of...Rachel."

Stan faced him without flinching. "I don't think so," he said.

The lieutenant's eyes flashed.

"What's going on here?" A new voice cut through the silence, its buzz-saw twang unmistakable. Stan stiffened like a cornered animal. Jay.

"Your cousin and the Stannen there found a new friend, Cyning," the lieutenant said, but Stan could tell he wasn't happy to see Jay either.

"Really?" Jay said, as if this, indeed, was an interesting development. Stan's heart sank. The lieutenant could be counted on to be a masochistic bastard, but Jay - you never knew what you were going to get with him. The Cyning shouldered past Stan and eyed Cassie speculatively. "Hmm. She's a little worse for wear." He touched the bruise on her face. "That your handiwork, Cousin?"

Hawk flushed. "No," he said. "I don't even know her. We just met her on the trail."

A corner of Jay's mouth lifted in a grin, like a wolf sensing a weakness in its prey, Stan thought. The Cyning switched into Harath - the language of the Authority. "Calm down, Cousin; if knocking the wachee women around makes you feel like a man, by all means, go for it - we won't tell, will we?" He elbowed the lieutenant, who shot him a look of pure scorn. "At least you found a girl. That's a start," Jay went on. "There's hope for you, yet, maybe,. although she lacks a certain..." he looked Cassie up and down and plucked at her oversized t-shirt with a dissatisfied frown. "Maybe she's yours?" He turned to Stan.

Cassie was looking from one to the other and Stan was grateful she couldn't understand Jay's words.

He shrugged. "Whatever you say, Cyning."

"Oh, don't pick today to start being subservient, Stan. Life would lose some of its luster."

Stan crooked a strained smile, but kept quiet, biding his time. He knew the Cyning would lose interest in the game soon, and that was the moment he was really worried about.

"Well, let's take a look at you," Jay said to Cassie in English, and pried the lieutenant's fingers from her arm. The lieutenant let go with an angry shove that sent Cassie sideways. Jay caught her reflexively and cocked an amused eyebrow at Stan over her head. "Well now," he said, pulling her closer with a laugh. "This is cozy."



Cassie gave a little cry, but she didn't try to push the Cyning away, Stan noticed. She seemed unable to move as Jay slid his arm around her waist. Stan balled his fists, stifling the urge to knock the smile off the man's face. He could see the triumph in Jay's eyes as he reached up and did what Stan had longed to do since the moment he saw her - yanked the clip from Cassie's hair and set it free to swing in curls down her back. With a devilish look to make sure Stan was watching, the Cyning bent down, buried his face in Cassie's hair and breathed her in.

Stan stiffened, but Hawk held a warning hand on his arm. Jay put a finger under Cassie's chin and tilted her head back, his grin growing wider.

"Tell me, little wachee - are you enjoying our forest?"

It was as if Jay had hypnotized her, Stan thought. Her eyes never left his face. She let out the breath she was holding and the words seeming to spill from her mouth.

"It's beautiful," she said. "I've never seen anything like the redwoods. They're just amazing..."

"You’ll have to visit us again, then," Jay said. "This forest is very special. Did you know the redwoods were nearly logged to extinction before we put a stop to it?"

Ever the salesman pitching his product, Stan thought. He had to give it to him; Jay was smooth as silk and Cassie was falling for it, her eyes round, leaning in to catch his every word. I should be taking notes, Stan thought. In a minute she would want to sign on to save the forests.

"I can't believe anyone would cut them down," Cassie said, right on cue. "It's a crime."

"It is a crime." Jay said. "Luckily, I'm here to stop it."

"Are you in charge of..." Cassie faltered. "Are you..."

"The forest is my responsibility - yes," Jay said.

Just when Stan didn't think he could take anymore, Cassie seemed to remember where she was.

"Are you conservationists?" she asked, pulling back. "Can I...could I help?"

Stan's fingers twitched. Jesus.

Jay laughed again and tapped her on the nose with his index finger. "No" - tap - "wachees" - tap - "allowed," he said lightly. "But maybe," he pulled her close again and whispered something in her ear.

Color swept up her neck and cheeks, and once more Stan stifled his desire to beat the man to a bloody pulp. But it was over now and Jay released her.

"Stan. Hawk. Get her out of here." He gave them an ironic salute and nodded toward the lieutenant, indicating for the braided man to follow him. The lieutenant glared at each of them in turn, fished the scrap of wood back out of his pocket and balanced it on the branch of a redwood sapling. Then he turned and strode after Jay.




"Shoot, Stan, we're lucky he didn't throw us in the..."

"We've got to get out of here, right now," Stan said, grateful the Cyning hadn't taken his game any farther.

"We're going to pay for this," Hawk said. "Fraternizing with..."

"Hawk," Stan cut in with a warning nod toward Cassie.

Cassie ignored them. She picked the carving out of the tree and held it in the palm of her hand, but kept her eyes on the departing men.

The little figure was a bird with its wings outstretched, its sharp talons clutching a struggling fish. It seemed to against gravity, beating its wings to regain the sky while the fish arced in its death-throes. The carving was exquisite, like always, Stan thought with a shake of his head.

"Who was that?" Cassie asked, her color just beginning to subside.

"Jay; our fearless leader," Stan said bitterly.

"Watch it," Hawk said. "Show some respect."

"When he deserves respect I'll give it to him," Stan said.

Cassie broke in before things could escalate. "What about the one with the braid?"

"The lieutenant? You don't want to know him," Stan said. He reached for the carving, but Cassie pocketed it with a defiant look. Stan considered insisting; she'd be no match for him if he chose to force the issue. He checked himself in surprise; where had that thought come from? He wasn't a violent man. I've been hanging around the Authority too long, he told himself.

"Let's get moving," he said to Cassie, and to his surprise she acquiesced. She seemed distracted and Stan couldn't help wonder if she was thinking of Jay. It made him furious, the way the man flirted with her. He was twice her age - more than that, but this wasn't the time to worry about it. Stan scanned the trees, the back of his neck prickling. "Do you see anyone?" he asked Hawk.

Hawk looked over his shoulder. "No. You think someone's following us?"

"You know how the lieutenant is."

Hawk glanced at Cassie. "Stay away from girls like her and he won't bother you."

That caught her attention. Cassie stopped and put her hands on her hips, looking from one to the other. "Wait a minute," she said. "I keep saying I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't know what you think you're doing..."

"We're just trying to help you," Stan said. "You need to get out of the park."

"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Stan said. "You just have to leave."

"Is this about my father?"

Stan felt an uneasy tickle in his gut. There was some connection here he wasn't making. "Look. Your father's not here, whoever he is. But the lieutenant has it in for you and that's reason enough for you to leave."

"Who was that other guy - the one they caught in the woods?" Cassie persisted. "They were talking about explosives."

"Forget him," Hawk cut in. "He's just a stupid Australian. They're getting pretty bold these days, but we'll take care of him; we know what to do with people who kill trees."

"Hawk, would you stow it?" Stan said, but Cassie snorted.

"That guy with the braid - the lieutenant - he was killing trees. Why isn't he in trouble if it's such a big deal?"

Both boys rounded on her. "What?" "Where?"

"I saw him the night we drove into town. He was shooting burning arrows at eucalyptus trees."

"Oh," Hawk waved that off. "Eucalyptus. That's totally different."

"How?" she demanded.

"They're invasive, like weeds," Hawk explained, "We have to root them out, anyway. It's the real trees we're here to protect - the ones that belong here."

They were behind the interpretive center now and Stan angled them back toward the parking lot.

"I don't get it," Cassie said. "There's no difference between trees. Who are you people, anyway? Do you work for the park service?"

"The WFA doesn't answer to anyone," Hawk answered angrily. "The park service works for us, wachee girl."



"Hawk!" Stan said in warning, but Hawk wasn't listening - Cassie's questions had infuriated him and he was gearing up for the kind of lecture only an Aetheling of the Authority can give. Stan was all too familiar with those lectures, and he wanted to spare Cassie, but before he could say anything she had pointed a finger in Hawk's face.

"Stop calling me that stupid word, whatever it means!" she blazed.

"Wachee? It means outsider and that's what you are; an outsider that doesn't belong anywhere near us," Hawk said.

"Hawk, go home." Stan stepped between them. "I'll take Cassie to her bus."

"Fine." With a curt nod, Hawk turned on his heel and disappeared among the trees. Stan herded Cassie into the parking lot toward the park entrance, promising himself that the next time they met they would be alone. "You need to be careful," he told her as they passed the ranger's entry station. "You shouldn't go wandering around in the woods anymore."

"You sound just like my mom," Cassie said irritably. "I'm fifteen, for God's sake."

"You were about to get yourself in a lot of trouble back there."

"I would have been fine if I hadn't run into you."

"I don't think so," he said. "What made you come here today, anyway?"

Cassie shrugged, but her need to speak seemed to overcome her caution. "Lisa sent me here - my mother's friend; the one I told you about yesterday. She wanted me out of the house. Mom got hurt the night we drove in and Lisa says she needs rest."

"How did your mom get hurt?" He kept a hand on her arm, amazed she hadn't shaken him off. Each time they passed from shadow to sunlight glints of red shone out from among the darker browns of her wavy hair.

"We were in a car accident."

Cassie looked up at him and he only just resisted the urge to touch her face. Did she have any idea how pretty she was? Do you have any idea how stupid you're being, Stan? She's not for you.

"It was that lieutenant's fault. Mom got distracted when he set the trees on fire - she didn't see the car stopped ahead of us."

"That's how you got that bruise?"

Cassie reached up to tug her hair over her forehead and nodded.

So she had seen the lieutenant before and maybe he had seen her, too, Stan thought, but that didn't explain why he would be waiting for her here on the trail today. In any case, the man had been watching Lisa's house long before Cassie arrived in Santa Cruz, so Stan didn't think the lieutenant's business was ultimately with Cassie. It must have something to do with her mother's friend.

"What does Lisa do? Besides renting out rooms," Stan asked.

Cassie thought a moment. "She's a photographer, I guess. And I think she makes things with clay. There are stacks of it in her studio." She pointed at a sign across the road. "There's my stop."

Stan walked her there, and for a brief, giddy moment considered stealing a page from Jay's book and pulling her close for a kiss. Would she let him? What would she feel like in his arms? He had speculated about wachee girls a lot over the last few years, but he had never known one well enough to try something like that.

"There's my bus," Cassie said, interrupting his thoughts, and Stan decided against the plan. It was too likely to end badly. As the bus pulled into the curb, he stepped back and watched her climb the stairs.

"I'll come and check on you in a few days," he said, as she stood at the top and fished some money out of her pocket.

She looked surprised, then smiled suddenly, and Stan's heart skipped a beat, but a second later her face darkened with suspicion. "Wait, you never told me where you..."

The doors slammed shut and the bus lurched forward. Stan watched until it disappeared from view.

When he crossed back over the road, the lieutenant was waiting for him.