(1995) The Oath by Frank Peretti

broken.”
    “So figure she went around stabbing trees or something. She was out of her mind.”
    “But even your scenario puts her and her husband together at the time of death, and you’ll have to admit an attacking bear isn’t necessary to produce the blood on her clothes.”
    “Except that I don’t like your line of thinking, Deputy. I can’t even entertain such a possibility.”
    “You don’t have to, Steve. You’re not a cop.”
    “Granted.” Silence. “So what’s your next step?”
    “I’m going to take a drive out to Hyde River and talk to some friends.”
    “The same friends who told you Cliff had been in the area?”
    “The same. It’s a small community, and word gets around.”
    “Well, I just might drive out there myself.”
    She raised her hand. “Whoa, hold on there.”
    “What?”
    “I know Hyde River. Do we agree on that?”
    “I guess so.”
    “So take this as wise advice from someone who knows: Don’t go up there asking questions by yourself. You could get more trouble than you ever wanted.”
    He didn’t follow her. “I only want to ask around about—”
    “It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “You’d be a stranger asking questions, and that’s not welcome up there.”
    He digested that for a moment. “So, we’ll have to hope you find out something for both of us, I suppose.”
    “I suppose.”
    Steve had already decided that wasn’t going to be the case when he asked, “So when do we touch base again?”
    “I’ll call you tonight at the Tamarack. Or you call me.” She scribbled a number on a corner of a notebook page and tore it off for him. “Here’s my home number. You can try me at the sheriff’s department or at home. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
    “All right.”
    She was ready to leave, and so was he.
    “Steve.”
    “Yeah?”
    She spoke carefully, “Take it slow.”
    MARCUS DUFRESNE came to Steve’s motel room that afternoon. He looked pale and sick. He would have preferred a shot of Jack Daniels but settled for some coffee Steve had in a thermos. They sat at the small round table near the window, the autopsy report between them. For the longest time, Marcus only stared at the report, trying to find words, while Steve sat, waiting silently, giving him as much time as he needed.
    “I guess—” Marcus finally began.
    Steve leaned forward.
    “I guess the pathologist gave it his best guess: a grizzly attack. Considering what was left of your brother, what else could he say? Have you read the autopsy report?”
    “Yeah. The whole thing, this afternoon.”
    “Lot of technical jargon, but—”
    “It was clear enough.”
    “Yeah. Real clear. Well, what’s in that report is what I saw today.” Marcus stared into space as if watching a replay of his visit to the pathology department. “One shoulder gone, no head, one arm detached. There were some ribs—” Marcus touched his own chest to illustrate. “—just sticking out of the . . . the cut, the bite, whatever you want to call it. They were just snipped off, cut right through. It was a pretty clean bite line.” As Tracy had done, Marcus traced it against his own body with his hand. “It went from left shoulder to right pelvis. And—did you read about the pelvis being cut through?”
    “Was it?”
    “It was.”
    “And the rest intact?” Steve asked.
    Marcus nodded. “The vital organs and the lower limbs were all there.” Then he added, “And that scar from the old gunshot wound? It was there. And the fingerprints from the left arm match the prints on file with your brother’s gun permit. Just so you know.”
    Steve nodded, then moved on to what he’d been thinking about, agonizing over, all afternoon. “No teeth marks or claw marks?”
    “No. And no animal hairs.” Marcus reached into his shirt pocket. “But I got some scrapings.” He produced a small vial and set it on the table. “Looked like it could be dried saliva. The pathologist couldn’t make