He stared at May, looking still angry, but also surprisingly forlorn.

  "Where were you last night?" she asked.

  "I was with my friends, drinking. I quit work early yesterday, because we were working overtime today. I was at Burt's Bar, with my friends, playing darts and drinking beer. It’s opposite my new house, where I moved when we split up. If you want to check that out, ask Burt. And ask the organizer of the darts tournament. I started playing at four p.m. and finished at eleven, and I came in second!" he said with angry pride.

  And then, his face clouded over. "Dead! I don't believe it. She's dead!"

  "I'm really sorry about this, Mr. Miller. Please, be calm, and we will take the handcuffs off you." He’d threatened her and he had tried to hurt her, but May was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been in an emotional state. As local police, they had to be kind toward upset people with poor emotional control, and pick their battles.

  Carefully, and optimistically, May undid the cuffs. "We need you to give us proof of this darts game. And if you want us to speak to the foreman here and tell him what has happened, I think you should take the rest of today off work. You've just had a shocking experience and probably shouldn't be operating heavy machinery."

  While Owen confirmed the alibi, May headed inside to find the foreman.

  It looked as if Grover was cleared, but the information that he'd given them was going to be important to this case.

  Faye had gone running in the park alone, and was reportedly a flirtatious woman. It could be that she'd attracted a predator who had followed her with the intent of killing her.

  Camera footage from the parking lots, May hoped, might lead them to Faye’s hunter.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "Well, now you have had your second chance," Riverman said to himself, smiling as he strode through the woods. "And it was your fault to start with. You forced me to redeem you this way."

  In a way, he wished the now-dead woman could hear him. He'd tried to tell her just before the moment when he'd claimed her life force, but he wasn't sure if she had heard or understood.

  But still, it was done. Justice was served, and her life force was returned to its core, given back to the flowing river.

  He felt exulted, as if he was now closer to nature, as if by helping this woman to become one with the element of water, he'd gotten himself closer to that utopian state as well.

  He felt like a part of the woods. The creatures of nature, the bears in the forest, the beavers and salmon in the waters. All part of the web of life, a web which now included her. She'd been washed free of her crimes. And he knew what they were. After all, she'd shown him her truth. Her real nature had been revealed and she hadn't hesitated to turn that side of herself to him. It had been a cutting moment, catastrophic when he realized her heartless core.

  And then she'd had to die.

  But he would not mourn her. She had been revealed to him, and her crimes were clear. He had done the right thing. And she should be glad to have been saved, to have been placed in such a beautiful setting where the water could wash over her, and the animals welcome her into their world.

  He was the gatekeeper of her life force. He was the man who had killed her and made her a ghost. And at that, he grinned.

  Ahead of him, walking through the forest, he saw a man who was struggling with a load of firewood. He had it on a cart, but the cart was tilting and tipping, threatening to spill its load.

  The man was slim, fit-looking, not tall. In his thirties or forties. Clearly, though, he didn't have the necessary power for this task. The man needed to spend more time in the outdoors, in the woods. He needed to work out and build muscles. His arms were skinny.

  Riverman had all the raw strength that was needed.

  "Let me help you with that," he offered, hurrying closer, because he was a creature of generosity, and as well as freeing people to the elements, he lived to serve.

  The man turned and stared at him. Riverman didn't miss the expression of dubiousness that crossed his face. It was clear he distrusted him, that the first impression made him nervous. He hastened to explain. "I saw you struggling. I can help you take this load home." He smiled, knowing that his smile was crooked and that it might be misinterpreted.

  "Why would you want to help me? Are you looking for money?" the man asked.

  But Riverman shook his head. "I just want to help," he insisted. "And if that makes you feel safer, I'll take a few dollars for my time."

  "I'm doing fine," the man said.

  "I'm sure you are," Riverman said. "But I’m offering to help. Don’t you realize what that means? That wood is heavy, and I’m going this way. Let me take it."

  "I’ve just got to get it up the hill, and then I'll be fine."

  Riverman wasn't going to give up. He was determined to help this man, because that was all part of his calling, his mission. "Well, I can help you get to the hill."

  The man stared at him, his expression still doubtful.

  Riverman looked him up and down. The man was fit, but clearly not used to physical labor. The man didn't have the strength for this task like he did.

  "Just take a look at me. I'm a man in good standing with nature. My heart is pure, my body is very strong. I can do this easily. I can take this load to the top of the hill, and then you'll be free of it."

  The man looked at him, now impatiently.

  "Mister, I don't know if you're deaf, or you didn't understand me. Thanks for the offer and all that, but I don't need your help. I don't want your help. Right now, I don't even want you following me. Are you some kind of weirdo, talking about your heart and being pure? Why don't you go do something constructive with your time?" He frowned angrily. "I don't want your damn help. Get lost; leave me alone."

  "I was just trying to help," Riverman said. He knew he had to keep trying, because the elements were telling him to. The woods, the trees, they were all begging him to correct this imbalance and put an end to this man's struggle.

  "Help yourself and stay out of my business!"

  "I'm trying to save you from yourself. I'm trying to stop you from falling."

  "I'm not going to fall!" The man turned and strode ahead. He trudged up the hill, the cart creaking, shifting, rising, and falling with its weight.

  Riverman was at a loss. He'd been insulted and rebuffed. He'd been refused a chance to help. How hurtful. This man didn't realize that by being rude and angry that way, he was going against the forces of nature, which were all about cooperation and harmony. Now, the air was sizzling with the pain of his scarred emotions, and the cold brutality of that rejection.

  "I won't be denied this," he said.

  He didn't feel rage. He didn't feel anger. He simply knew that he had to do what he had to do.

  And so he headed up the hill after the man, who was walking away. But he went quietly now, because he was a creature of the woods, and although he was tall and strong, he could move through them as quiet as a mouse, and without being seen.

  The man had a clear choice, and he'd chosen wrong.

  But luckily, Riverman would be able to correct that choice for him. He might have defied the elements and created disharmony, but it just so happened he'd come face to face with the one man who could fix such errors.

  He caught up with the man at the top of the hill. The man hadn't realized that anything was wrong until he turned and saw Riverman standing there.

  "What are you doing? Are you following me?" Now, there was a thread of fear in his tone.

  "I want to help you," Riverman said.

  "I don't need help! Get lost; let me be."

  "I'm not going to let you be."

  "What?" The word was high, incredulous.

  "I'm not going to let you be. You're going to have to be re-set."

  "What do you mean?"

  The man was scared. He saw that Riverman was not going to leave him alone.

  He didn't have time to run. He wasn't going to get away. He was being cornered like a terrified animal.

  Riverman felt like he was coming alive, as if he was able to sense the fear. It was like a delicious aroma coming off the man's skin. It was like a fire, warming him, making him feel that he was now on the right path. He had to do this. It was justice.

  The man took a step backward. Riverman could see the terror in his eyes now, the tension in his body.

  "Stay away from me!"

  But Riverman was already on him. He wrapped his arms around the man, embracing him.

  "Let me go!"

  The man started to struggle. He cried out for help. The forest would not answer. The wind would not hear him. The river would not flow to his rescue. He was alone and he was going to die.

  Riverman held him tight, and forcefully squeezed the breath from his body.

  But not enough to kill him, of course. That would need to be done later, in the element of water - on a raft. It was what the spirits demanded.

  The woods, the water, the dam – they were all telling him so. Really, he was just the slave of nature. It wasn’t like he took pleasure in this. He was simply following the commands of a greater power.

  He flexed his muscles, holding the man’s full weight easily in his hands. He checked that he had the bottle of caustic soda in the small backpack he carried, so that he could scar and erase this victim’s prints.

  “It’s what you deserve,” he said, with a grin that was full of evil joy.

  Then he turned, and within a moment, he and his prey were out of sight in the woods.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When the first footage from the parking lots at Eagle Park arrived, May felt a flare of encouragement. Within this, perhaps, they would find Faye Miller's murderer. These pictures might reveal him.

  May and Owen had gone to the Fairshore police station to wait for the footage, so that they had everything they needed when it started arriving.

  "Okay," Owen said. He'd very patiently organized for the feeds to be synced, working together with the attendant from the park, who had known how to store and retrieve the footage, but not much more than that.

  Listening to him carefully explain, step by step, how to send it through had made May appreciative all over again the qualities her deputy possessed, and his kind and friendly nature.

  "There we go," he said, opening the first feed.

  "Well done. That was an excellent tutorial you gave her," May praised.

  She'd expected him to smile, laugh, or agree. But instead, Owen just bit his lip nervously, not looking at May, and turned his focus to the footage.

  This case must be getting to him, May thought. It was unlike Owen to show signs of nerves.

  Was he worried that he wasn't up to the task? This case was definitely stranger and more disturbing than many others they'd handled, but even so, May didn't know if that was the reason. Owen had always seemed confident and sure of himself.

  Was he being like this specifically toward her, she wondered suddenly, and then put that thought aside, because surely there was no reason for it.

  "This is the footage from the east gate," she said. "That's good we got it first. Maybe it's where she likes to go."

  "It could be," Owen said.

  Again, May glanced at him, surprised by the uncertain tone. And then, putting it out of her mind, she turned her attention to the footage. After all, they had a killer to catch.

  It was painstakingly slow work to trawl through all the activity of the past few days, watching cars come and go, the changing light and shadows, people briefly visible in the camera's eye before walking past. And it was very difficult to keep focusing, keep watching, looking out for the number plate they needed.

  But there was no footage of that car from the east gate at all, not for two weeks going back.

  May sighed. "We could go further, but maybe she used a different gate."

  "Maybe, if someone was harassing her, that was why she changed her habits and used the east gate last time," Owen suggested, which May thought was a brilliant theory.

  "We have the north gate footage here. Let's see what it shows," she said.

  And fortunately for her, the north gate seemed to be Faye's preferred entrance to the park most times. She saw the car on the footage, quickly, the time stamp showing just two days earlier.

  “There it is!” She bookmarked it, her pulse speeding up, and then carried on going back to see if there was another sighting.

  Again, she got lucky a day before that, and saw the car pulling in while the morning light was gray.

  This time, the place she parked allowed May and Owen to see Faye getting out of the car, a familiar figure, slim and blonde, and with a brisk confidence about her that was appealing.

  "Who's she speaking to there?" May asked. She'd seen someone approaching Faye, and instantly her suspicions flared.

  Carefully, she rewound the camera footage, playing it slowly this time, taking in every detail. She saw the car driving up, Faye getting out. She saw the man approaching her.

  "Is that a security guard?" she said.

  "No. It looks like he's wearing a uniform, though," Owen said.

  They stared at the screen, eyes straining, and at exactly the same time, they both reached the same conclusion.

  "He's a park ranger!" May exclaimed. "This is the same uniform as the witness we spoke to earlier today."

  "Not the same man, though," Owen said. "This guy is taller and bigger." He inched the footage forward a few frames. Now, for a moment, the man turned toward the camera, and for a split second, he was clearly visible.

  "He's got a beard," May said, quite confident in her assessment.

  "Let's see if he follows her," Owen said, slowly forwarding the footage.

  He didn't follow Faye, May saw. Instead, this bearded man did something even creepier.

  He waited until she had gone and then he turned back to her car.

  "Look at that!" May said. The footage showed him nearing the car, taking in the plate details, and then bending over and peering through the window.

  "It's like he's stalking her!" May exclaimed. She felt shocked by what this was showing. The camera had faithfully recorded this highly suspicious action.

  They ran the footage back a couple of days, and there he was again. This time, it almost looked to May as if he was waiting, lurking around, and sure enough, when Faye's car arrived, he walked over to it and followed her out of the camera's field of vision.

  May thought they were looking at evidence of this ranger being obsessed with Faye.

  "This is really creepy," Owen said.

  "We're going to have to speak to this man," May said. "And now. Let’s pack up our bags, get some visuals of this ranger, and find out who he is.”

  She captured a few shots of the footage that showed the man's face clearly, and then, she and Owen left the police department and headed off to Eagle Park.

  As she drove back to the park, May felt resolute that they were closing in on the killer. It made so much sense that a park ranger might have identified a victim among the visitors.

  And a park ranger would know the area well, and be able to operate without suspicion. It seemed like this case was starting to come together. Of course, there was always the possibility this ranger might not be at work today – but surely, he would be playing innocent and pretending everything was normal?

  May hoped so.

  The closest gate to the police department was the south gate, and May pulled up outside it and showed the attendant at the gate the footage.

  It was clear that, following this incident, security had been upgraded, because there were two rangers standing near the gate, writing down the details of all the cars that approached. Neither of them fit this man's description but, hopefully, May thought, they could tell them who he was.

  "I'm looking to ask this man a few questions in connection with the crime," she said, approaching the nearest ranger.

  He looked down at the footage and nodded. "That's Joe Menzies."

  "How long has he worked here?"

  "He's fairly new," the other ranger said. "He's been with us a few months, I think."

  Someone new was always a red flag. A psychopathic stalker taking on a new job might have settled in for a month or two, and then gotten down to his deadly work.

  "And where can I find him?" May asked.

  "He went into the park on foot about an hour ago," the ranger said. "He has a pair of shears with him, and he's clearing the walking trails with them. But I don't know which trails."

  "Can you get hold of him by phone?" May asked.

  "I can try, but he usually keeps it on silent when he works. We all do, out of respect for the hikers and visitors. They don’t like to hear ringing phones," the ranger said. He dialed, but shook his head. "Nope, sorry. He's not picking up."

  "No problem," May said. "If he does call you back, here's my number. Please call me and tell me where he is."

  She took the ranger’s number also, deciding to try again a few minutes later to call him. She didn't want to alarm the other rangers or cause unnecessary panic by saying he was a suspect, but inwardly, May felt alarmed.

  A suspected killer, out in a wilderness park, armed with shears. Great, May thought. Just what they needed - especially since, given the size of the park and the urgency of the job, she and Owen were going to have to split up.

  She felt a shiver of unease at the thought, but they didn't have a choice.

  "You go this way; I'll go the other way?" she said to Owen in a low voice, indicating the branching trail ahead of them.

  He looked doubtfully at the trail, and then at May.

  "Okay. I - I guess we have to," he said.

  She nodded. "I also don't want to, but I think we do."

  May put a hand on the grip of her gun. It was there if she needed it, as long as she didn't get surprised or overpowered. Without thinking too hard about what might go wrong, she looked along the left-hand trail.

  Walking briskly, she set off, scanning the ground for footprints. It was a wide, grassy path, and easy to follow - at first. But as it twisted its way into the trees it got narrower, and darker, and it was much harder for her to keep her eyes on her surroundings, with the trees and overgrowth lining the track.