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the log he had leaned on. It was impossible to see exactly where the blood was, so he carefully traced the path he had taken earlier, trying to keep disturbance to a minimum as he led the rope in a wide arc, wrapping it around the driftwood in an uneven line. The seagrass area was a bigger problem. He had to search farther along the shore to find branches he could break off and drive into the sandy soil, hammering them down with a rock he found on the beach, but at last he managed to create a complete circle of rope, a makeshift police line he hoped would keep out any visitors until the police themselves arrived. He knew he had trampled the grass even more as he created his barrier, but it couldn’t be helped, and he thought whoever had desecrated the totem—and maybe killed the woman—had probably come and gone by water, so the tide would have washed away any trace anyway.
    He stood back to survey his work and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Gene was coming down the beach to join him.
    â€œSaw what you were doing and came down to see if I could give you a hand,” he said as he stepped down onto the beach to join Dan. “Guess I’m a bit late.”
    â€œNo problem. How are things up at the house?”
    Gene grimaced. “Not too good. I told them the totem had been damaged. Had to tell them something when they saw you stringing up the rope. It really bothered both of them. Guess they know there must be some connection, but I didn’t say anything about the blood. Jens has got enough on his plate. No need to make it harder for him.”
    Dan nodded. “Guess he’ll find out soon enough once the police get here.” He looked up toward the lighthouse. “Mary still there with him?”
    â€œYeah. One of us has to be on hand for any calls, and Jens doesn’t look like he wants to go anywhere.”
    â€œProbably a good idea for him to stay put,” Dan agreed. He gestured up the hill. “I thought I might head up there and see if I could spot anything. You’re welcome to join me. Won’t take long and we can be back at the house before the police arrive.”
    â€œSure,” said Gene. “But you might want to talk to him first.” He was looking over Dan’s shoulder, to where the ocean lapped at the edge of the land.
    â€œTalk to whom?” Dan asked as he turned to follow Gene’s gaze. A canoe was gliding silently in toward the shore. It was close enough that he could see the man who was paddling it. A man with long black hair woven into a thick braid that hung down his back. A man whose broad shoulders rippled with muscle as they worked. A man Dan was very familiar with.
    â€œSon of a bitch!” Dan shook his head as he made his way down to the shore. “Gene said you came here sometimes, but I didn’t believe him.” He reached out to take the line Walker was extending.
    â€œHey, white man. Thought that was your boat out there. What you doin’ out here in Indian territory?”
    Dan smiled. Walker had a unique way of both challenging him and making him smile at the same time. “Came here to visit Gene,” Dan said, gesturing to the lighthouse keeper. “Guess you two already know each other?”
    â€œSure,” Walker answered. “How you doin’, Gene?”
    â€œFine,” Gene answered. “But we’ve got a bit of a problem. Where’s Sanford? He headed back too?”
    â€œSanford?” Walker looked back and forth from Gene to Dan. “He’ll be here in a couple of hours. He and his mom and dad went to visit a cousin over by Esperanza. Why?”
    Dan nodded toward the roped-off area. “You need to come and see this.”
    Walker looked at him for a long minute, studying his face, then nodded. He dug his paddle down into the gravel bottom and drove the canoe up onto the sand, beside a bleached log.
    On the water, Walker looked at ease, fit, powerful,