Page 17 of Snow River

He grunted, not wanting to argue with her.

“You don’t believe me?If you always expect things to be logical, you’ll miss the infinite number of times they just aren’t.Oh.”She snapped her fingers.“Which reminds me.Why was Officer Cromwell making all those digs at you?”

The swift change of subject made him blink.“Why did that remind you of Officer Cromwell?”

“Oh, logic…police work…it’s a natural segue.Perfectly logical.”Again with her sunshiny smile.“So?”

“How should I know why Officer Cromwell does anything?Logically, you should ask him.”

“I don’t want to ask him because I don’t like him.”

That made him happier than it should have.“Why not?”

“Because he was making digs at you.It was very unbecoming of a professional.And you are the last person anyone should be needling like that.”

“Oh yeah?Why not?Were you worried I might clock him and get hauled off to the Blackbear jail?”

“No, no.That’s not what I mean.I mean because you’re so kind and don’t deserve that sort of treatment.”

“Sokind?”That was definitely not what he’d expected her to say.People generally found him intimidating.

“Yes, you’re the absolute nicest person in Firelight Ridge, and I thought it was shameful that he would speak to you that way.I’m tempted to call his supervisor.”

“Don’t even—” he growled.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that.It would just make it worse.But I have my eye on that man.My friends can tell you, do not make an enemy out of me.”

He fought back against the smile that wanted to break out.How would Lila, who was the size of a large kitten compared to him, be a worse enemy thanhe’dbe?“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly.

“Oh, you could never be my enemy.You’re far too kindhearted.Hey, where are we headed?”She looked out the passenger window, seemingly only just now noticing they were driving through the woods to the east, toward Snow River.

“We’re going to throw some knives,” he said casually.“Don’t worry, we’ll do it in a kindhearted way.”

If Lila’s smile was lethal, her laugh was on another level entirely.Every time he heard it, the corners of his mouth lifted.It made him wish he was funnier so he could hear it more.But he wasn’t one of those fast-talking quipsters, the kind who wielded humor like darts.

He turned onto an old logging road that wound through a section of woods along Snow River that had been clearcut years ago.Since then, mostly cottonwoods had repopulated the area, with a scattering of spruce and birch.It made for a less densely wooded environment than the typical spruce forest around here.

It would be easier to fling a knife and hit the target.

He pulled over at a wide spot in the road, out of the way in case anyone else came through.The cottonwoods still held some of their leaves, but most of them had drifted to the ground in piles of faded gold.As he got out of the truck, he listened, as he always did, for the sounds of wildlife.Hyper-alert squirrels could tell you a lot about what was going on in the woods, if you knew how to listen.

But now, the woods were so quiet that he could hear the waters of Snow River flowing across mossy rocks.This time of year, most of the migrating birds had already flown south, leaving only the ravens and crows and Steller’s jays and eagles.A deep croak alerted him to the presence of a raven, who whisked away from them in a flap of black wings.

Lila climbed out of the truck and dropped lightly to the ground.“This is where you want to throw knives?Do you have something against cottonwoods?”

He reached into the backseat of his truck for the cardboard box of knives he’d assembled.“I’m cool with cottonwoods.”

She giggled, surprising him.Apparently she thought he was funny; go figure.

“I was thinking about your blip,” he explained.“There would have to be plenty of open space for that knife to hit its mark.Obviously they would have to be near Snow River.This spot came to mind.”

“You want to recreate my blip?”

“I want you to tell me if one of these looks familiar.”He tilted the box toward her so she could see the knives.“I gathered up a selection of knives that might match the one you saw.Figured I’d throw them and maybe something would ring a bell.It could help us narrow in on what type of knife he used.”

“Why he?”she murmured.“Do you know it was ‘he’?”

“No.”He smiled wryly.“I guess it’s sexist to assume someone hurling a knife into someone’s back is a man.Did your blip specify a gender?”

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