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certainly different from anything I’ve heard,” she said and moved away as if to leave.
    â€œIt’s more than that. It’s a stroke of genius, if it works.”
    â€œIf it works? It sounds as if you’ve done more than just presented the idea to the director.”
    â€œMaybe I have. Maybe I have.”

Chapter 3
    F ive minutes later, Tory had finally extricated herself from the talkative Fenton and had started toward her cabin. By now people were beginning to arrive at park headquarters, their voices following her until she’d traveled a good quarter of the way. If the heat kept increasing, she’d have to change to shorts before going out again. She should have brought her camera this morning; she wouldn’t make that same mistake again because—
    Biting the inside of her mouth, she stopped the errant thought. She’d been about to tell herself that a camera was absolutely necessary if she was going to prove the existence of a ghostly warrior for all concerned when there was no such thing.
    By effort of will, she forced her thoughts on nothing more complicated than the best place to search for ground squirrels and other scurrying creatures. Looking around, she became aware of her isolation in a way she hadn’t been last night. True, she could see the faint jet trail left behind by a plane, and it was a simple matter to get in touch with someone viathe walkie-talkie at the cabin, but she doubted that anyone would hear if she screamed.
    Scream? Why would she do that? Hadn’t she asked for the remote cabin because she wanted a little time with her own company, a welcome change of pace from the hectic meetings and yet more meetings?
    After unlocking her door, she stepped inside the single room. She’d left her small duffel bag on the couch because there didn’t seem to be much purpose in settling in if she was only going to be here two nights. Thinking to change into shorts, she started rummaging through her belongings. She stopped when she came across the folder filled with newspaper clippings. Although her own role in the Alsea project was essentially a supportive one, she’d been quoted numerous times and had had her picture taken on more than one occasion. Dr. Grossnickle teased her that she was robbing him of top billing, but that wasn’t true and they both knew it. Still—
    Frowning, she opened the folder and studied the most recent articles. Not only was she photographed alongside Dr. Grossnickle, but two paragraphs of the accompanying article were about her successful effort to discredit the Oregon Indian Council’s claim that they alone had the right to excavate and record. Not only was the article one of the most accurate ones that had been written about the project, it had appeared on the front page of a recent Oregonian newspaper. If Fenton James had read the article and seen her name on the guest register and decided—
    Decided what? To convince a high-profile anthropologist that something unexplained lurked around the lava beds? Taking the argument as far as it would go, he had struck up a conversation with her and immediately introduced the subject of ghosts or spirits or whatever he wanted to call them.
    But he’d also told her straight out that he was trying to come up with a way to capitalize on people’s overactive imaginations and mine them for the park’s financial benefit. There’d been nothing veiled about his intentions.
    Warned by the threat of a headache, she turned her thoughts to the less weighty question of whether to stay with boots or change into more comfortable shoes for her next trek into the wilderness. When she started unlacing her boots, she told herself it was not because she could run faster in tennis shoes.
    Â 
    It was dark by the time Tory returned to her cabin, and she needed to use a flashlight to find her way home. Throughout a long and eventful day, she’d gone through three rolls of