Skye wondered how the survivalists had been able to afford to buy such a huge tract of recreational-quality land. Either they purchased it before prices rose or someone in their group had a lot of money to throw around.

After what seemed forever, Skye spotted a log cabin to her left. It was bigger and more permanent than any other dwelling she’d seen so far. Perhaps it was the camp’s head-quarters. She parked her car between a pickup and a Suburban with a red cross painted on the side, and walked up to the porch.

The memory of Simon’s telling her about the shooting out here suddenly popped into her mind. She looked around nervously. Was there a gun pointed at her this very minute? No, she was being silly. He had said it was an accident, hadn’t he?

She took a deep breath and knocked on the screen door, smoothing her khaki pants and black polo shirt as she waited. This had been another tough wardrobe decision. What does one wear to infiltrate a survivalist camp? Unfortunately, her camouflage suit was at the cleaners.

Abruptly a huge man filled the doorway and growled, “Yeah, what do you want?”

“I’m Ms. Denison from Scumble River Elementary School. Could you direct me to the Underwoods?” Skye forced her voice not to quaver.

“They went back to Michigan.” He turned to go.

“Wait. Ah, as long as I’m here, could I talk to you for a minute?”

“About what? I ain’t got no kids.”

“But you are the leader out here, right?” She took a wild guess.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it’s obvious that you would be the top guy.” Skye stole a peek at his face and laid the flattery on thicker. “Your bearing, your aura of authority, your size, they all scream commander.”

“Yeah?” He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. The major don’t live out here and I’m in charge when he’s not in camp.” He stuck out a hand bigger than Skye’s purse. “I’m Sarge.”

Skye swallowed nervously as she watched her hand disappear in his grip, which was surprisingly gentle. “My name’s Skye.”

“Aw, that’s a pretty name.” Sarge leaned against the door frame. “So, what you want to know? We ain’t got no secrets. We’re just getting ready for when civilization fails.”

“Well, preparedness is always a smart thing.” Skye searched her mind for a good question, figuring this was a limited opportunity. “You may have known my grandmother, Antonia Leofanti. She lived on the farm next to this property.”

“Heard of her. Never met the lady.” Sarge examined his fingernails. “Saw in the paper she was killed. Shame, not being safe in your own home.”

“Ah, no offense, but I know some of your people occasionally forgot where your camp ended and her farm began and went across the line.” Skye watched him closely for a reaction. “I was wondering if anyone out here had seen anything.”

“We never took anything.” Sarge crossed his arms and a stubborn look stole over his features. “But your grandma sure went crazy if we were hunting and took a step on her property. That wasn’t too neighborly.”

“No, it wasn’t. But she was an old woman whose health was already failing. Things bothered her that never used to.”

He nodded and leaned back. “Sometimes old folks are hard to live with.”

“So, do you think you could ask around and see if anyone noticed anything the day she died?”

“Okay, but I’d’ve heard if anyone saw anything.”

“Let me give you my number, just in case someone remembers something.” She fished in her purse and pulled out a small notebook and pen.

While she was writing, a skinny teenager ducked under the older man’s arm and ran down the steps. She yelled over his shoulder, “You ain’t stickin’ me with no needle.”

An attractive middle-aged woman wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform followed the girl. The nurse was holding a syringe; its metal tip glinted in the sunlight. “This is only a tetanus shot. That barbed wire you cut yourself on was rusty. You need this to prevent you from getting sick.”

Without speaking, Sarge stepped off the porch, grabbed the girl in a bear hug, and presented her to the nurse, who administered the injection. The teenager took off as soon as the man released her and the nurse went back inside the cabin.

Skye distractedly thanked Sarge and said good-bye. The nurse had triggered something in the back of Skye’s mind. She got into the Buick, waved, and was nearly in Scumble River when it hit her. One of the pictures from her grandmother’s box had a similar scene. It showed Mona and Minnie as teens standing on either side of a nurse in an old-fashioned uniform. The Chicago skyline was the backdrop.

Skye abruptly swung the wheel of the car and turned toward her brother’s salon. She wanted that picture. Who was the nurse? Why was she with her aunts? And what were they doing in Chicago?

She was sitting on her couch staring at the photo when her telephone rang. Bingo was ensconced on her lap, and she had several coffee-table books featuring Chicago spread around her. She grabbed the receiver just before her new answering machine intervened.

Charlie’s rough baritone blared through the handset. “Skye, honey, what you doing tomorrow night?”

“Why?” Charlie had roped her into many unpleasant activities in the past and she was cautious, even though she knew she would end up doing exactly what he wanted her to do.

“The Stanley County Farm Bureau is having a pork chop supper and I got stuck buying two tickets.” He did not sound regretful.

“I thought you had to be a farmer to be involved with that organization.” Skye eased herself into a kitchen chair.

“Hell, they interpret the rules real loose for this sort of thing. I own a couple of pieces of land that I rent out to farmers, so they bugged me to join. Which means I got to show my face at their goings-on.”

“You must belong to every organization in Scumble River.”

“I don’t like to brag, but it seems real important to people that I be involved.”

“That’s impressive.” She was only half listening as she continued to look at the photo.

“So, you want to go with me, or do you got a hot date with Simon?”

“No. Simon and I don’t see each other every night or anything.”

“Then you want to go to this supper?” Charlie’s voice held a hint of impatience.

“Sure. What time?” Skye reached for a pencil. “What do I wear?”

“I’ll pick you up at four. It’s over to the county seat, so it will take us forty-five minutes or so to drive it. Wear what you usually wear; it’s not fancy or nothing.”

“Listen, Uncle Charlie, before you hang up, I’ve got a picture here that shows Aunt Minnie and Aunt Mona posed with a nurse in Chicago. They look like they’re in their teens.” Skye examined the images closely. “Do you know anything about that?”

“A nurse, huh? I can’t think of anyone. I’ll take a look at it when I come get you tomorrow.”

Charlie arrived the next afternoon driving a big black Cadillac DeVille. Skye ran her hand caressingly down the soft leather seats and breathed in the new-car scent. “Wow, Uncle Charlie, when did you get this?”

He tipped back his straw fedora. “I haven’t bought it yet. Just trying it out. Do you like it?”

“What’s not to like?” Skye smiled. “You look perfect in it.” She leaned across the huge expanse of front seat, and kissed him on the cheek. “But what’s wrong with your other Cadillac?”

“I bought that used, just to tide me over till I could get around to shopping for a new one.”

Before Charlie could bring up her need for a car, or the fact that he’d be pleased to buy her one with his newly inherited wealth, Skye passed him the photo of her aunts. “Do you know who that woman with them is or where this was taken?”

“No, can’t say as I recognize her,” Charlie said. “But the two girls are definitely Mona and Minnie.”