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a reporter. She’s offered to help however she can.”
    â€œNot really a reporter. I write occasional fluff pieces. I thought I could pick up food and supplies, that kind of thing,” Sam elaborated calmly, though obviously noticing Max cooling toward her. “If you’re here to find Alicia Kraynak, you don’t have time to waste trying to find the grocery store.”
    Ukiah gazed at her. Who was she? What did she want? Under Obsession perfume, female sweat, leather jacket, woodsmoke, and gun oil, he caught the engine smell from a motorcycle. There had been a Harley-Davidson in the hotel’s parking lot. Stepping back through the day, he found it again at the parking lot of the airport. He flipped through memories of the airport and found her, hidden behind a newspaper and the loudly playing children.
    She met his eyes levelly for several minutes and then looked away. “So, Max tells me you’re a tracker. It seems slightly stereotypical that the Indian is the tracker.”
    â€œUkiah is the best tracker in the country,” Kraynak stated, waving a piece of toast.
    She dragged her gaze back to Ukiah. “You’re real good at that evil eye.”
    â€œYou were waiting for us at the airport,” Ukiah stated.
    She shrugged. “I heard the rumor that you were coming and was curious. It’s not a crime.”
    â€œYou’re currently carrying a pistol, either on a shoulder holster or kidney holster. You fired that weapon this morning. You’ve been in a burned building, a house I think, and you’ve been exposed to human ash.”
    There was silence at the table, and then Kraynak stated, “I said he was the best.”
    â€œI’m impressed.” Sam pulled a business card from her jacket pocket and slipped it gracefully onto the table. “I’m a private detective. I’m investigating the death of a local family. They were killed in a house fire last Thursday. I was at the site this morning, after some target shooting.”
    Kraynak claimed the card first, glanced at it, and handed it to Max. “What does that have to do with Alicia?”
    â€œI’m playing a hunch,” Sam admitted, spreading her hands. “A family of six dies in a house fire on Thursday. Four days later, a hiker from Pennsylvania disappears. I thought there might be a connection.”
    Max took the card, showed it to Ukiah long enough for Ukiah to memorize it, and then studied it himself. SAMUEL ANNE KILLINGTON , PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR , it read, followed by a Pendleton address and telephone number. “Samuel Anne?”
    â€œMy parents were twisted,” Sam said. “My sister is Kendall Jane.”
    â€œSo what’s the connection?” Kraynak asked.
    Sam gave a weak laugh. “Well, it struck me as odd that the hiker’s uncle was flying in two private detectives. Professional pride aside, a local investigator would know the area better and be a hell of lot cheaper. And two men instead of just one seemed like overkill, so maybe they were hired muscle. The father of the family worked at the casino. Dead casino worker. Two hired goons.” She rolled her wrist as she listed the last two points and ended with her hand cocked upward in speculation. “Organized crime?”
    â€œYou’ve got to keep that rampant paranoia in check,” Max said, and grinned. “Ukiah and I specialize in lost and found. We’re damn good at it.”
    â€œSo, the kid’s a tracking wonder,” she conceded, thenlooked questioningly at Max. “What do you bring to the partnership?”
    â€œA mature, level head”—Max took out his cigar case, flicked it open, and selected a cigar—“worldly knowledge, and a big gun I’m not afraid to use.”
    She laughed, showing sound, clean teeth. “How big is that gun of yours?”
    Max’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then he grinned. “Wouldn’t you like