3.5 Roasted in Christmas River by Meg Muldoon

past the tips of the trees, low clouds were moving quickly across what remained of the icy blue sky.
    I went around to the passenger side, retrieving two large bags. Then I headed into the woods, not completely sure where the camp had been. These woods looked plenty different during the day.
    It was just before 10 a.m. By all rights, I should have been at home, rushing around the kitchen like a mad woman. I should have been elbow deep in stuffing and turkey guts. But instead, I was out here in the woods, somewhere I probably shouldn’t have been alone, looking for someone.
    I came up to the circle of rocks that held the burned-out remnants of a log.
    I sighed.
    The place looked abandoned.
    They were gone.
    I looked down at the paper bags I was holding. They contained the pecan, pumpkin, and apple pies that I had initially baked for Meredith Drutman. I had brought them out here thinking that they might be put to better use at the homeless camp.
    But I’d been too late. The men were no longer there.
    “Why, what are you doing out here, miss?”
    I nearly dropped the paper bags filled with pies, jarred by the unexpected voice.  
    “Oh, geez, I didn’t mean to scare you, miss.”
    I turned around, smiling and shaking my head.
    “No, no,” I said, after I had caught my breath. “I’m glad to see you.”
    He took off his green beanie.
    “You shouldn’t be out in these woods by yourself,” he said. “I mean, most of the guys here are okay. But every once and a while, you get one who’s… well, who’s not a kind spirit.”
    “Well, I just wanted to give these to your friends,” I said. “The two that were here last night. They helped my husband with a case he was working on. And since it’s Thanksgiving, I’m sure they’d appreciate i—”
    “Larry and Bug are spending the night at the shelter tonight,” he said. “But I’m sure they’d appreciate the gesture.”
    “And what about you, Tobias?” I asked. “Where are you spending the night?”
    He looked down sheepishly and shrugged.
    “Well, I expect here,” he said.
    He looked at me, and he must have noticed the sad expression on my face.
    “Aw, don’t feel sorry for me,” he said. “You see, Bug got lucky cuz one of the other guys didn’t show up last night and lost his bed tonight. I did have a spot at the shelter tonight, but you know, what with it being Thanksgiving, I thought I’d give my spot to Larry. Larry’s got a bum knee. The cold does something awful to it. I jest thought he coulda used that spot more than me.”
    He smiled.
    “‘Sides, I think it’s clearing up a little up there.”
    He looked up at the darkening sky. A cloud passed over the sun and the woods fell into darkness.
    I looked back at him.
    We both knew it wasn’t clearing up. And it wouldn’t be for quite some time.
    “Well, I was wondering if you would do me a favor, Tobias,” I said.
    “Anything for you, miss,” he said.
    “Well, I was wondering if you wouldn’t help me with my Thanksgiving meal this afternoon. You see, pretty much all of it is under control. Everything but the pies. I’m just not sure if they’re up to standard, and, well, I could really use your opinion on the matter if you had the time.”
    His face brightened.
    “Aw, you’re feeling sorry for me,” he said, wringing his beanie between his hands. “You’re a good lady, but you’re being too kind. I’d just be an imposition.”
    “You wouldn’t be imposing, Tobias. For goodness sakes, I’m asking for your help. I need your expertise this afternoon. But if you don’t want to help me, then—”
    “No, don’t misunderstand me,” he choked out, interrupting me. “I’d do anything to help, miss. Just so long as I am actually helping you’s all. I don’t want anyone’s pity.”
    “You would be helping, Tobias,” I said.
    I probed his eyes. They still looked a little unsure, but after a few moments, I could tell he’d made a decision.
    He smiled, his face glowing more