Full Wolf Moon

23

It was almost forty-eight hours later, to the minute, that Logan heard from Jessup again. His cell phone rang as he was sitting in the living room of his cabin, reading a draft of the closing argument of his monograph.

“Logan,” he said as he answered the phone.

“Jeremy? It’s Randall.”

“Hi, Randall. What’s up?”

There was a pause. “Jeremy, I don’t know how to tell you this — how to ask you this.”

The ranger’s tone was oddly reserved, almost guarded. “Ask me what?”

“Do you remember our conversation of two nights ago? When I told you that I was looking into something — and I’d say more if I learned anything specific?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have. And we should talk.”

How odd. “Of course. Would tomorrow morning be good?”

“No — I think we should talk now. I’d like you to meet me.”

Logan glanced at his watch: quarter to eight. “Tonight? What is it that can’t wait?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Very well. Where are you now — at home?”

“No. I’m on the far side of Pike Hollow, not far from the Blakeney place. You know Fred’s Hideaway?”

“You mean that bar in Pike Hollow?”

“Yes. Can you meet me there as soon as possible?”

“If you really think it’s that important, of course.”

“Thanks. I’ll be waiting for you in the Hideaway. I’ve got one or two things to check out, but I should still make it there before you.”

Logan switched off his phone. For a moment he sat still, looking at it thoughtfully. Then, getting up, he shrugged into his jacket, reached for the keys to the Jeep. Then he stepped out of the cabin and began making his way down the path to the parking area.

Overhead, a full moon, bloated and yellow, hung in the crisp night sky.