Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
How did she fool so many people?
Shaking his head, Huck strode out of his office and crossed the reception area, his boots thumping against the well-worn floor. Aeneas followed him quietly. Ena stood behind the counter, organizing folders. She’d gone still, eyes locked on a piece of paper, her cheekbones darkened with a pink flush that didn’t bode well.
He stopped, his gaze narrowing. “I’m heading out to Genesis Community Church to talk to suspects and witnesses about the courthouse shooting.”
She snapped her head up, shoulders tight, almost vibrating with indignation. “You are not going to believe this.” She pushed away from the desk, the movement sharp. “Absolutely not going to believe this.”
Huck folded his arms, noting the way she gripped the paper as if she wanted to crumple it. “What happened?”
“The yew grove up around Stony Mountain. The one Fish and Wildlife has been monitoring for years?” Her voice cracked with anger. “Someone’s gone through it. Cut down trees, hauled them out. Even took some mushrooms.”
Huck’s fingers curled into fists. “They’re clearing out the yews?”
“Craken McGregor was hiking out there a couple of days ago. It’s only a mile or so from his cabin, and he said the grove looks like a war zone. Trees hacked down, brush trampled. The whole area’s torn up.”
Huck’s jaw tightened. That grove held Pacific yew trees, which were rare enough to warrant special attention. Their bark and needles produced taxanes, which were essential compounds for chemotherapy drugs like Taxol. Poachers sometimes targeted the trees for that reason, especially in well-established groves like the one near Stony Mountain.
“Damn it.” Huck ground his teeth and tried to shove down irritation. “Why would anyone risk poaching out there? It’s posted with warning signs.”
Ena grabbed her purse, her movements stiff and clipped. “Because they don’t care.”
“Take Officer Jordan, and both of you arm yourselves.”
“Not a problem.” Ena’s eyes remained hard, determination etched across her face.
Huck shook his head, his mind already cataloging the mess. Plenty of people knew better than to mess with the yews. Fish and Wildlife kept tabs on those groves for a reason, and while the trees themselves didn’t hold value for standard logging, their medicinal potential brought in poachers from all over. Still, the grove up by Stony Mountain hadn’t been targeted before. “Be careful out there.”
“We will. I’ll go grab Officer Jordan.” Ena shot him a glare before heading toward the bullpen in the back of the office.
Huck strode outside and to his truck through the misting rain, water clinging to his jacket. He secured the dog in the crate in back, his thoughts still turning over what Ena had told him. Rare yew trees uprooted and stolen.
He fired up the truck and pulled out, tires crunching over wet gravel. The drive to Genesis Valley Community Church took about ten minutes, winding along the river and past the outskirts of town. Rain continued to fall, soft but steady, painting the world in shades of gray and green.
The church rose ahead, its steeple cutting into the low clouds. Two stories of pale stone and painted clapboards by forest and open grass. Stained-glass windows gleamed even under the dull sky, their blues and greens depicting mountains and rivers with a craftsmanship that spoke of dedication. Beyond the building, the river swelled, its currents churning from the rain.
Huck parked near the front of the gravel lot, tires crunching over the uneven surface. The rain had turned the dirt to mud in patches, but most of the lot held firm. He jumped out, opened the back door to unlatch the dog crate before whistling for Aeneas to follow. The dog hopped down, his ears perked and eyes sharp, already scanning the area.
Huck clipped on Aeneas’s leash, though the dog rarely needed it. They’d let him inside before, especially when Huck only planned to visit the offices and not the actual church. The air smelled of wet earth and cedar. Rain continued to fall in a soft drizzle, muffling sounds and making the world feel smaller, more contained. Huck stepped up to the church’s entrance, his boots leaving muddy prints on the stone walkway.
Pastor John met him at the door, holding it open with one hand. “Huck,” he said, his voice deep and welcoming.
“Pastor.” Huck gave him a nod, eyeing the man’s casual jeans and black sweatshirt. The outfit was a far cry from his usual robes, but it fit the rainy day.
They’d crossed paths on several cases before, and Huck had learned a few things about the man. Helpful when he wanted to be. Not exactly a saint. The pastor’s habit of dating younger members of his congregation, married or otherwise, had stirred trouble before. Scandal had rocked the church not too far back, but since Pastor Zeke’s death, Pastor John was the last one standing. As far as Huck could tell, the man did his job well enough, other than his weakness for risky relationships.