TYLER, WILLY KUNKLE, and Ron Klesczewski found me pacing in front of the cottage a half hour later, boiling over with anger and frustration. “Where the hell have you guys been?” Each of them reacted true to form at my outburst. Tyler silently raised his eyebrows, Kunkle smirked and ignored me, and Klesczewski looked worried. “We left as soon as you called,” he answered. “Did you see an old guy in a red-and-black-checked wool shirt when you drove up?” Tyler answered crisply, “Nope. Is this the place you want checked out?” I began walking quickly toward Coyner’s house. “Yeah, but wait ’til I get back. Ron, come with me. You guys just keep an eye out.” I heard Kunkle’s “So much for bustin’ our butts to get here” as I led Klesczewski back down the trail. “What’s goin’ on?”
