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him.
    A channel of water ran from the lake alongside the Ainsley’s property, under a gravel road, and emptied into a small pond on the other side. She figured it must be the blue-gill pond that Clarence had mentioned. The grass around the pond was mowed and the trees trimmed, and the whole thing looked more like a park setting than that of the wilderness. Still, she beheld the beauty of the natural setting, admiring the water reflecting the blue skies above. A Canadian Honker scolded her when she got too close, and it swam out to the center of the pond, gliding toward a small island covered with tall trees. The goose obviously had a nest on that island, and her scolds were only to protect her babies.
    She felt the same way. She wanted to protect Gabby, and after that gunshot, she was starting to doubt she did the right thing by bringing her with. The sooner she got this call over with, the better. By the sound of it, the sooner they hauled Thomas Taylor away and found a good home for his children, the sooner this lake would be safe again. She toyed with the idea of calling in for another social worker to back her up, but decided against it. After ten years in this business, she knew people tended to exaggerate. She’d better investigate further first.
    After awhile, her curiosity got the best of her. She veered off the path, bravely taking the one less traveled. She found herself jogging down the road she’d taken last night. Thomas Taylor’s road. She didn’t know where the Taylor’s house was, but she knew if she stayed on his land he would find her sooner or later.
    She made it nearly to the mailboxes at the end of the half-mile road before she had to stop and catch her breath. She was regretting eating that breakfast now. Hands on her knees and head down, her breathing slowed and a chill swept up her spine. She had the feeling someone was watching her. She jumped up and turned around, only to see a flash of dark clothing disappear behind the trees.
    “Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”
    “That’s just Zeke, hiding again,” came a voice from behind her. She jumped again, and turned around to see a boy she guessed to be about nine or ten years of age standing on the side of the road. She recognized him as the boy who’d thrown a rock at her last night. This time he wasn’t wearing the coonskin cap.
    “You!” she spat. “I recognize you. You almost hurt me with that rock last night.”
    “I didn’t do any such thing.”
    “You don’t have to lie about it. Lying is not good.”
    The boy’s eyes opened wide in fear. “I didn’t throw no rocks at you.”
    “Any,” she corrected him. “And you know you did it.”
    “What’s the matter, Josh?”
    Angel looked up to see a man walking out of the woods toward her. The same man she’d seen last night in her headlights, but thankfully this time without the gun.
    “Is this woman bothering you?” he asked the boy.
    The boy stayed quiet.
    “Are you Thomas Taylor?” Angel asked, knowing darn well he was but trying to find a way to introduce herself.
    “Who’s askin’?”
    “My name is Angeline DeMitri.” She held out her hand, but when he just stared at it without returning the greeting, she pulled it back slowly. This wasn’t going to be easy.
    “How’d you know my name?” he asked in a suspicious tone. “Are you one of those tourists here to cause trouble for the summer?”
    She was appalled at the way he assumed every visitor wanted to cause trouble, when he in fact looked like more trouble than anyone she’d ever met.
    “I’m vacationing at Thunder Lake for awhile, Mr. Taylor. I’m staying at the Ainsley’s Bed and Breakfast.” He just grunted, so she continued talking. “And it seems to me your son - I’m guessing he’s your son, is the one causing trouble. Last night he threw a rock at me. I could have been hurt.”
    “Is this true, son?” The man’s voice was low and concerned. His dark eyes narrowed and the boy