To Darkness and to Death by Julia Spencer-Fleming Page B

here about the Adirondacks. And I’ve never heard of them operating in our area.” He looked up at her. “Where’d you get these?”
    She had thought out her answer when she persuaded Lisa to let her keep the documents. “They were here in the kitchen.” She opened the drawer and tossed the remainder of the pamphlets on the stack of wine crates, just as Lisa had done. “I was opening up drawers, looking for utensils and stuff.” There. Absolute truth. “These are more in the same vein.”
    He ruffled through the brochures. “These could be anybody’s.”
    “The only people who live here are Eugene and Millie. One of whom is now missing.”
    “You think this may have something to do with her disappearance?”
    “She gave them money. It’s not like mailing in your annual donation to the Sierra Club. These folks aren’t sending her a preprinted thank-you letter and a calendar.”
    He glanced at the paper again. “If she’s the outdoorsy, save-the-earth type, she probably gets solicitations from every group under the sun. Lord knows, my mom does.” Russ’s mother was an environmental activist whose various causes and concerns came close to giving her son an ulcer. “Adirondack Conservancy, Stop the Dredging, Mothers Against Nuclear Waste Disposal—Mom supports ’em all. It doesn’t mean that she’s plotting to blow up Nine Mile Point.”
    Clare flipped her hand open. “But what if she were? Millie van der Hoeven, I mean, not your mom.”
    He looked at her skeptically. “And this is based on?” He flapped the brochure at her. “One letter inviting her to talk and a diatribe about the evils of development? That doesn’t make her a terrorist.”
    “I’m not saying she is. But we have this supposedly woods-wise young woman who goes out for a walk after a late dinner. She’s spent every summer of her life right here in these mountains. And she gets lost? On the same day that she’s supposed to sell her family’s land to a multinational wood products corporation?”
    “Which is then signing it over to the Adirondack Conservancy Corporation. They’re not going to be clear-cutting the place. They’re going to put a stop to all development. And logging. The PLA people should be doing the happy dance over this. If they know about it.”
    She thought about what Lisa had said. About how being lost in the woods could make a convincing alibi. “It may not have anything to do with Haudenosaunee. Or maybe it does. Maybe she didn’t like the idea of selling off to—what’s the name of the company?”
    “GWP, Inc.”
    “To GWP. Maybe she didn’t trust them to give all the easements or whatever to the conservancy.”
    Russ rolled his eyes. “Maybe she’s being held prisoner by the president of GWP, who’s planning on selling her into white slavery after the signing ceremony tonight. Have you seen that picture of her in the hall? She’s quite a babe.”
    Clare made a face. “You’re impossible.”
    “That’s what Linda says.”
    There was a pause. When Clare spoke again, her voice was quiet. “It could be nothing. But someone ought to be aware of it.”
    He kept his eyes on the letter as he carefully folded it into thirds. “And now I am.” He held it up. “Mind if I keep it?”
    She shook her head. He unsnapped a pocket on the outside of his camo pants and stuffed the papers inside. She tossed open the door to the pantry and snapped the light on. Surprise, surprise, there was an unopened jar of marmalade sitting next to a tin of tea and a box of farina. She turned back to Russ and set the jar next to his blackberry jam, thinking,
Why am I bothering with this
? A loaded question.
    “I’m sure the team will appreciate your search efforts,” he said.
    She snorted. “This is the problem with letting people know you can cook. I’ll probably be relegated to chef and bottle washer for every rescue they call me in on, for ever and ever, amen.”
    He grinned. “C’mon, Julia Child. I promise I