Page 30 of Let Her Live

As they continued on, the tire tracks began to veer off the main path and into thicker underbrush. Jake reached for his flashlight, illuminating the way ahead. Fiona walked close behind.

After several minutes, they came upon a small clearing in the forest. There, parked in the middle of the clearing, was a large ATV. Fiona and Jake exchanged glances; this had to be where the tire tracks had led them.

The air was thick with the sound of buzzing insects and the smell of damp earth and foliage. Fiona and Jake cautiously approached the ATV, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of Henry Mitchell.

But then, they heard something.

Voices.

A man, shouting.

More men's voices, shouting back.

Jake's pulse raced.

He signaled to Fiona to be quiet, and they crept closer to the sound. They could hear the men more clearly now, and it sounded like an argument.

"I told you, this is no campground—you can't set up your damn tent here!"

Jake made his way through the brush until he got eyes on the scene.

A man—Henry, it seemed—was shouting at two younger men who stood in front of a tent, holding up their hands.

"Look, man, we're not hurting anybody," one of the young men said.

"The hell you are!" Henry shouted, gesturing at their fishing gear. "You don't have licenses to fish here either, and this is a conservation area where we protect wildlife, not harm it. You can get the hell out of here."

"This is a free country," the other young man said. "We can do as we please."

"Not here you can't," Henry said. "You're breaking the law, and I'm going to have to call the authorities if you don't leave."

"What, the real authorities?" one of the young men mocked. "Because you're just some loser park ranger. You can't do anything to us!"

"Don't test me," Henry said. "I'm not the same man I was twenty years ago."

"Yeah, you're older and fatter," the young man taunted.

Henry clenched his fists, but before the argument could escalate further, Jake stepped out of the brush, his badge glimmering in the sunlight.

"What seems to be the problem, boys?" he asked calmly.

"This is the problem," Henry said, pointing at the young men. "These two punks came into the park without my permission, and they're fishing without a license. And now they won't leave when I tell them to."

"You can't kick us out, old man," one of the young men said. "We have a right to be here."

"That's right," the other young man said, his eyes wide. "We have rights, and this is a public park!"

Jake stepped between the young men and Henry, holding his hands up.

"Now hold on a minute," he said. "What are your names?"

The young men hesitated before one said, "Eric," and the other said, "Chris."

They were younger than Jake had realized, probably no older than twenty-one, but he remembered being that age, still young and immature.

"I'm afraid you two boys are at least in some trouble if you're fishing here without a license and without permission," he said. "But I'll let you off if you scram right now."

"What!?" Henry exclaimed. "This is outrageous—if you're the FBI, you should be on my side!"

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