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went silent, but she could now see the source of the noise. A woman stood next to a pair of sawhorses, positioning a sheet of wood paneling across them. It was the same woman, Jackie realized, that she and Gail had seen the other day: Miss Tall, Dark and Delicious. She wore olive green shorts and a black tank top. Her smooth, muscular arms were bare, biceps flexing as she put the panel into position. Her wavy brown hair fell across the side of her face, obscuring her eyes from view. A circular saw lay on the ground beside her feet, an orange extension cord connecting it to some unseen power source behind the boat.
    Jackie was about to say hello when the golden retriever burst out from behind the woman, barking. The dog rushed at her, but stopped six feet away, standing between Jackie and his owner. Startled, Jackie stumbled backward just as something whizzed past her head. She reeled, tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground, butt first.
    The dog barked again, but didn’t appear menacing. In fact, a couple of whimpers interspersed between barks told Jackie he wasn’t sure how to respond.
    “Deuce!” the woman called sharply. “Sit!”
    He obeyed her and went silent, looking anxiously back and forth between the two women. Still on her butt, Jackie got her first good look at the stranger’s face. Wow! she thought. She’s gorgeous! In contrast to her dark hair, her eyes were light, bluish-hazel and wary. Her face was angular with pronounced cheekbones. Her lips were so full and pouty she looked a little like she was sulking. She seemed about the same age as Jackie, somewhere around thirty, give or take. She held herself with an air of confidence and vigilance, as if she were just shy of snapping to attention. Remembering the camouflage pants from the other day, Jackie wondered if Miss Tall, Dark and Delicious had a military background.
    She walked over to where Jackie sat in the dirt, raised an eyebrow with an expression of curiosity, then stepped past her to yank a dagger-like knife out of the trunk of a tree. Jackie realized that was what had gone singing past her head a moment ago. The woman held the knife firmly in one hand. Then she reached the other out to Jackie, who hesitated before taking it. She felt the strength of the arm that pulled her to her feet.
    “You could have killed me with that,” Jackie accused, indicating the knife.
    “I could have,” agreed the woman matter-of-factly, “if I’d been aiming at you.”
    They stood facing one another. The expression on the woman’s face was passive, her eyes calm and unrevealing. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, a few strands of hair pasted in place across it.
    “A girl’s gotta defend herself,” she said in a breezy voice that seemed to mock the whole idea of a girl needing to defend herself. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
    “I wasn’t sneaking. I didn’t have a chance to say anything before your dog came after me.”
    “Deuce,” the woman said, snapping her fingers toward the dog. He trotted over to her side. “This is Deuce. And I’m Stef.”
    “Stef? Short for Stepha—”
    “Just Stef.”
    “I’m Jackie. Golden retrievers are usually pretty mild-mannered. Deuce seems kind of high-strung.”
    Stef shook her head. “He’s not. You scared him. He’s actually really gentle.”
    As if to prove it, Deuce wagged his tail and came over to sniff Jackie’s hand. She patted his head and began to feel more relaxed. “Personally, I prefer a gun for self-defense,” she said. “More control.”
    Stef looked amused, curling up one side of her mouth as if in a reluctant smile.
    “See the light spot on the trunk of that oak over there?” she asked, pointing to a tree forty feet away. A five-inch circle of bark was missing from the tree trunk, revealing the lighter wood beneath. Stef pulled the knife behind her head, then threw it hard, one foot coming off the ground behind her like a pitcher releasing a fast ball. The knife flew