behind him. The dog cocked its head to the side as Clayton approached. He handed the passport back. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Thibault.” This time, he mangled the pronunciation on purpose. “Just doing my job. Unless, of course, you’ve got some drugs or guns in your pack.”
“I don’t.”
“You care to let me see for myself?”
“Not really. Fourth Amendment and all.”
“I see your sleeping bag there. You been camping?”
“I was in Burke County last night.”
Clayton studied the guy, thinking about the answer.
“There aren’t any campgrounds around here.”
The guy said nothing.
It was Clayton who looked away. “You might want to keep that dog on the leash.”
“I didn’t think there was a leash law in this county.”
“There isn’t. It’s for your dog’s safety. Lot of cars out by the main road.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, then.” Clayton turned away before pausing once more. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been out here?”
“I just walked up. Why?”
Something in the way he answered made Clayton wonder, and he hesitated before reminding himself again that there was no way the guy could know what he’d been up to. “No reason.”
“Can I go?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Clayton watched the stranger and his dog start up the logging road before veering onto a small trail that led into the woods. Once he vanished, Clayton went back to his original vantage point to search for the camera. He poked his arm into the bushes, kicked at the pine straw, and retraced his steps a couple of times to make sure he was in the right place. Eventually, he dropped to his knees, panic beginning to settle in. The camera belonged to the sheriff’s department. He’d only borrowed it for these special outings, and there’d be a lot of questions from his dad if it turned out to be lost. Worse, discovered with a card full of nudie pictures. His dad was a stickler for protocol and responsibility.
By then, a few minutes had passed. In the distance, he heard the throaty roar of an engine fire up. He assumed the coeds were leaving; only briefly did he consider what they might be thinking when they noticed his cruiser was still there. He had other issues on his mind.
The camera was gone.
Not lost. Gone. And the damn thing sure as hell didn’t walk off on its own. No way the girls had found it, either. Which meant Thigh-bolt had been playing him all along. Thigh-bolt. Playing. Him. Unbelievable. He knew the guy had been acting too slick, too I Know What You Did Last Summer.
No way was he getting away with that. No grimy, hippie, dog-talking freak was ever going to show up Keith Clayton. Not in this life, anyway.
He pushed through branches heading back to the road, figuring he’d catch up to Logan Thigh-bolt and have a little look-see. And that was just for starters. More than that would follow; that much was certain. Guy plays him? That just wasn’t done. Not in this town, anyway. He didn’t give a damn about the dog, either. Dog gets upset? Bye, bye, doggie. Simple as that. German shepherds were weapons—there wasn’t a court in the land where that wouldn’t stand up.
First things first, though. Find Thibault. Get the camera. Then figure out the next step.
It was only then, while approaching his cruiser, that he realized both his rear tires were flat.
“What did you say your name was?”
Thibault leaned across the front seat of the Jeep a few minutes later, talking over the roar of the wind. “Logan Thibault.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “And this is Zeus.”
Zeus was in the back of the Jeep, tongue out, nose lifted to the wind as the Jeep sped toward the highway.
“Beautiful dog. I’m Amy. And this is Jennifer and Lori.”
Thibault glanced over his shoulder. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
They seemed distracted. Not surprising, Thibault thought, considering what they’d been through. “I appreciate the ride.”
“No big deal. And you said you’re going to Hampton?”
“If it’s not too far.”
“It’s right on the way.”
After leaving the logging road and taking care of a couple of things, Thibault had edged back to the road just as the girls were pulling out. He’d held out his thumb, thankful that Zeus was with him, and they’d pulled over almost immediately.
Sometimes things work out just like they’re supposed to.
Though he pretended otherwise, he’d actually seen the three of them earlier that morning as they’d come in—he’d camped just over the ridge from the beach—but had given them the privacy they deserved as soon as