Smoke and ash polluted visibility worse than morning fog. In the distance, fire crackled, shooting red-hot flares through the black cloud engulfing the ridge.

Coughing and hacking, Walker controlled his gut fear by rigidly following emergency procedures and hurrying terrified families into cars—until the flaming pine crashed on a pathway near the lodge.

Sam!

Debating protocol, he froze the same way he had when Tess had pulled out a gun.

To hell with protocol. He couldn’t let another crazy self-destruct.

Covering his nose with a mask the lodge staff was handing out, Walker crashed into the underbrush. Rivulets of fire crept down the mountain. Hot ash coated the dusty path and his eyes watered from the thick smoke. Tearing pain in his thigh muscle reminded him of his past mistakes. Fire crept closer, beneath the underbrush, through the bed of pine debris. Even the mulch smoldered. Damn, but the whole place could go up like a torch.

Where was Sam?

There was a whole damned hotel full of people he needed to help. . . Why was he chasing the one crazy?

He almost forced himself to turn around—when through the smoke, he saw a slender figure racing toward him. Heart pounding, he increased his pace through the heavy smoke. Without apology, he seized Sam by the waist, and flung her over his shoulder.

She beat his legs with her crazy stick, but he refused to drop her.

“I’m fine! Put me down. You left Harvey back there, you know! He thinks he’s found water.” She wiggled enough that when they reached the parking lot, he had to set her down. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

He’d never seen anyone more beautiful and alive.

Walker wanted to strangle her for risking that life for nothing. Her face was coated in sweat and soot, looking the way his felt. He resisted the urge to shove loose strands of hair off her moist cheeks. “You followed an idiot into a burning forest to find water? What the hell do you think they’re carrying in those trucks?” He jabbed his finger toward the tankers on the dirt path to Menendez land.

“If they could pump water from the ground, they wouldn’t have to keep going back for refills! Talk to Harvey.” She swung around to indicate the man sauntering from the woods, eyeing them askance. “Tell Walker there’s water up there and how to find it.”

Harvey shrugged his broad shoulders. “I needed Sam to find it. As I’ve said before, I’m just a facilitator. You want the aquifer, we climb the mountain.”

“You’re crazy if you think either of you is climbing that mountain now,” Walker shouted his frustration.

“But if they had digging equipment, they could probably reach the aquifer,” Sam argued. “The snow cover is still heavy higher up. The aquifer will be full.”

“Use your damned brain, Sam! Basic fire equipment works if we don’t have to waste time saving people who have no business up here.” Walker jabbed his finger at the nearly empty parking lot. “Get a ride out of here, now, or I swear, Sam, I’ll lock you up. Only trained professionals belong here.”

Before Walker could turn on him, Harvey loped off, shouting “Hoses! This way!” at the staff unreeling the lodge’s equipment. He was pointing at the trickle of fire that had followed them out. At least that task was in hand. Now all he had to do was remove this newly irrational woman.

“Harvey and the staff aren’t professionals,” she argued.

“They’re trained volunteers. They know to stay the hell out of the way.” He glanced over her shoulder and shouted at the woman preparing to leave, “Mrs. Kennedy, take Sam down with you, will you?”

Even knowing Walker was right, Sam fought irrational fury as she swung around to see Carmel climbing into the backseat of her Escalade. A ride with Mrs. Arrogant ought to be a real barrel of laughs. She debated swatting Walker with her stick just because, but he was already striding off, duty done. Wretched, miserable. . .

But with Carmen in her gunsight, Sam strode across the lot and opened the door behind the driver. “Official orders,” she declared, sliding in, appalled by her own abrasiveness.

Dainty, diminutive Jade had taught her to stand up for herself. “Behave as you mean to go on,” she’d said, shoving a young Sam onto the stage to explain her science experiment. Her mother had showed her how to face up to school bullies, and later, how to deal with driving instructors who wanted more than her money. In their rural community, with hostility toward her different parents rampant, it had been necessary to stand up to the bullies and name callers just to survive.

It had been Wolf who had caught her before she could take a swing at a shrew who’d called him a name. Jade would have punched the old biddy. Wolf had taught Sam that some fights weren’t worth picking.

So she was both her parents’ daughter now—the fighter her mother wanted her to be, and the patient scientist her father had encouraged.

She missed them desperately, but she was a whole woman today because of them. In Wolf’s memory, she waited politely for Carmen to fire the next round.

“You called me step-grandmother,” the lady said under her breath, apparently not wanting the driver to hear. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re the one who has lived here for. . . how long? Thirty years? Have you never talked to Cass?” Sam realized she’d left her purse and backpack in Walker’s car. Damn.

“Cass and I do not see eye-to-eye,” the older woman said stiffly, staring straight ahead. “And I do not exactly live here. My home is in the city.”

“And the townspeople are beneath your notice? Not smart, if so. Then we probably have nothing else to say to each other. You may continue living in ignorance. I don’t mean to disturb your narrow world.” Well, she did, apparently, or she would never have said anything. Unreasonably, it rankled that the Kennedys had never acknowledged Cass and her birth father, even if she’d just learned about it.

Carmen shot her a glare that should have killed. “You’re a stranger who knows nothing about us. You cannot come in here and pretend to be family. I will not give up what I’ve fought so hard to keep.”

“Isn’t it just a little dangerous not to tell your sons they have relations they don’t know about?” Sam said, with only the slightest malice.

Malice! She might occasionally be defiant but she’d never been mean. But even knowing she was behaving abnormally, she couldn’t stop. “Some day they might need an organ match or know about an inherited disease or that they’re dating nieces. That’s all I’m saying.”

Carmen looked as if she’d swallowed a mouse, but she gathered her considerable resources to produce a withering tone. “They know Cass is a distant relation,” she replied as if it hurt to say the words. “Their father’s family was small, and the rest have passed on. My sons have better taste than to date women not of their social circle. Are we letting you out here?” she asked with false politeness as the car slowed down in town.

Sam offered a tight smile. “Yes, please, it’s been lovely talking with you. And rest assured, I want no part of what is yours. Apparently your husband left my father well off, and the executors have taken better care of the money than anyone did his family.”

She got out in the parking lot without watching for Carmel’s reaction. She felt oddly drained and wondered what she had thought she was accomplishing. She had just told a potential murderer that she was a danger to her precious family. What on earth had possessed her?

Possessed—an ugly word with more than one meaning. Remembering the evil the Lucys kept preaching about, Sam went around back to Dinah’s shed where she’d stored the few garden tools she’d gathered. Walker had made it clear that she knew nothing about fire-fighting, so she’d stay out of the way. In the meantime, she needed grounding.

While men bulldozed a dirt boundary around town, she filled her meager watering can. A breeze off the ocean pushed the oily smoke east, back toward the ridge where the fire had started. The flames were no longer visible, so the worst was under control. She could do nothing but watch helplessly, so she returned to the new flowers flourishing in Dinah’s planter. She supposed she could prepare sandwiches and drinks for the firefighters, but right now, she needed her fingers in earth, or she might ignite new fires.

She looked up a little later when Xavier’s shadow fell over her as she dug in leaf compost. The rental agent and his green blazer looked even grayer than usual.

“Mr. Gump said you’d leave. Why are you still here?” he asked with what sounded like curiosity.

Sam sat back on her heels and studied the man. Really, with his balding head and sagging jaws, he almost looked like a basset hound. She was still keyed up and not feeling cooperative. What the hell did Gump, the city man, have to do with anything? “Why do you ask?”

His stooped shoulders lifted in what might have been a shrug. “It’s not safe here. I thought maybe you’d need a better place to stay now that Cass is back.”

That was an odd way of looking at things. Originally, she’d been planning on returning to the university, where her knowledge was at least respected. But now that she knew she wasn’t in danger of starving, she felt as if she had unfinished business in Hillvale. She couldn’t tell if he wanted her to leave or stay.

“I’ll let you know if I need a place,” she said, reluctant to hurt the odd man’s feelings. He seemed like a strangely inarticulate person to hang around high-powered types like Kurt Kennedy and Alan Gump.

Looking worried and confused, he nodded, and ambled off across the street. The odd encounter drained some of the tension from her.

Mariah stuck her head out the café door. “If you’re done communing with nature, we need more hands on deck in here.”

She couldn’t rely on her small trust fund to provide a living forever. Brushing off her hands, Sam saluted Mariah and carried her tools back to their storage place.

Wiped, Walker strode into the café carrying Sam’s backpack and hoping to find a gallon of iced water to drown himself in. Half the town was there. Before he could even open his mouth, they bustled out of the kitchen with boxes of plastic wrapped sandwiches and ice coolers he hoped were filled with drinks.

“The landline at the lodge is dead, and we couldn’t phone to ask if it was safe to bring these to you,” Dinah called as she sliced tomatoes and fed them out on lettuce leaves in an assembly line on the counter. “Want us to send Aaron up while you cool off a bit?”

Walker sought Sam in the crowd but didn’t see her. If he were really fortunate, someone had driven her out of town. But with his luck, Carmel had probably murdered her. The backpack hung like a heavy weight off his shoulder. He needed to return it.

“Much appreciated,” he said with a nod, taking a glass handed to him. “They’re just looking for hot spots now. Send Aaron up. I need to report to the sheriff.”

“Any word on who burned the cross?” Mariah asked from behind the counter. She was wrapping the sandwiches Dinah prepared, while the antique dealer carried the boxes out to his truck.

“They have to wait until it cools, but out there on those rocks, they won’t find much. If anyone saw anything suspicious, you need to let us know.” He glared meaningfully at Mariah, who’d been the last person he’d seen flinging flame around.

“Not us, I swear,” Mariah said, holding out her hand palm up. “Crosses are the last thing we’d burn.”

“Come sit down over here, dear,” Cass called from one of the few booths. “The sheriff allows time to eat.”

Dinah handed him a sandwich and Tullah refilled his water glass. Figuring he’d find out more if he talked to the locals, Walker worked his way through the crowd to the back booth. Only when he got there did he see Sam.

“You’ve got Tullah doing your job?” he asked, then almost bit his tongue. Why the sarcasm? Especially after he’d dragged her off the mountain over his shoulder and then practically thrown her at Carmel. He’d be lucky she didn’t cut him off at the groin.

She took the backpack he handed her and studied him warily. “It got you, too, didn’t it?”

He stood there awkwardly, balancing his sandwich and drink, until Sam relented and scooted over to let him sit. “Got me how?”

“The evil force,” Cass said with cheer. “Sam is finally convinced that evil exists.”

“Negativity,” Sam corrected. “Negativity is not necessarily evil. Saying spiteful things isn’t evil.”

“Will I regret sitting here?” Walker asked, nearly draining his glass before biting into his sandwich. Dinah could even make cheese and tomato taste like heaven.

“You need to stop talking like a Null if you want my aunt to tell you why your father may have been up here,” Sam warned.

Since she was glaring at Cass instead of him, Walker settled down to listen. “And there’s a reason she’s telling me now?”

“I had no reason to know your father died here,” Cass said with dignity. “You deserve to know that it’s my fault.”

Pow, right in the gut. Walker lost his appetite and studied the old woman. She still looked like a university professor, and she didn’t show an ounce of guilt, just regret. “Okay, I’ll bite. What did you do?”

“I reported massive land theft and mortgage fraud. I reported it everywhere, to the FBI, to the banks involved, to the attorney general, to the governor. Occasionally, people listen, especially when one has a little money and influence.”

Walker ripped off half his sandwich with his teeth and chewed while he contemplated this declaration. He figured she’d used more than money to grease wheels. She’d had evidence. He washed the bread down with more water that had miraculously been refilled while he chewed. He glanced up to see Daisy walking around with a water pitcher. He could easily see how one could lose one’s mind up here. Distraction created illusion which led to more distraction. . .

Focus, Walker. “You don’t know which agency sent him?”

Land theft and mortgage fraud—that had to be the Kennedys. Cass had turned on her own family? He’d have one of his men find the files, once he knew where to look.

“No, as I said, I didn’t meet your father. If he was asking questions, he was very discreet about it. All I felt was his spirit when we tried to reach Zach. I’m so very sorry we didn’t try to communicate more. We weren’t quite as attentive back then.”

“You mean you were doing drugs and you heard voices,” Walker said dryly. He knew how that worked. His late wife hadn’t talked to spirits, just the characters in her head—until one of them told her to shoot herself and her family.

He had to let that pain go, keep his mind open. Accusing Cass accomplished nothing.

The old woman let his bitterness slide right off her. “Some of us did drugs, maybe, not all. I’m sorry you don’t believe the spirits are real, but someone suspects we talk with them. That’s why they burned a cross, although they misjudged the solstice in their ignorance. They were warding against evil.”

Here was a more relevant subject. Walker eyed Sam as he took a more polite bite of his sandwich. Sometimes, it was just easier to let women talk and sift through the rubble later.

“As I understand it, the Lucys performed an exorcism for Juan to speed him from this plane to the next,” Sam said carefully. “That’s what you saw with the bright light. Burning a cross completes a greater function, one that exorcizes witches.”

Walker’s first response was That’s crazy, but he didn’t say it aloud. “Or they wanted you to think that was the purpose, but their real intent was to hide their crimes or burn out the people who live up there.”

“Or all of the above,” Sam agreed, waiting expectantly for his reaction.

As he was learning, the world was full of crazies, but sometimes, they were right. “We need a different word for crazy,” he concluded. “There’s crazy that believes in spirits and there’s a worse kind of crazy that tries to set towns on fire.”

Cass smiled approvingly. “I think you’re starting to understand. We cannot call people crazy just because they think or behave or see things differently. For all I know, burning crosses works. As Sam says, experimentation is required.”

“A little hard to observe and test a hypothesis of evil.” Walker finished off his water. He didn’t want to leave without further questioning, but it was late, and he needed to get back. “You might have to burn a saint to see if you get a different result.”

Sam laughed. “Well, yes, killing someone is probably the dividing line between crazy and lucid.”

“Whoever burned that cross could just be sending a message to Menendez, which would put the Kennedys right up there as suspects with the Lucys. So unless someone walks in here reeking of kerosene, I think we’re back to scientific evidence.” Just in case he could persuade rationality out of the stubborn woman, he faced down Cass. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me about the massive land fraud?”

She delicately sipped her tea. “It’s old history, dear, over and done. It’s too late to do anything more.”

Yeah, that’s what he figured she’d say. He could still dig into archives. He stood up and left a stack of cash on the table, enough to cover Dinah’s costs for the firemen.

“I’ll tell her Carmen made a donation, shall I?” Sam asked mischievously.

She knew he could afford presidential suites. The rest of the town didn’t need to. “That could go a long way toward mending the rift,” he acknowledged. “Thanks.”

He knew no one would believe her lie, but he liked that she’d muddied the waters.

He needed to get back to cell phone reception so he could call his office. He had experts qualified in hunting down nearly twenty-year-old mortgage fraud cases.

The question remained, what did any of this have to do with Juan’s death and burning crosses?