“Girls’ Varsity Track,” read the printing on the frame. “1979–80. NY State Champions.”
And then there were the names of the team members, first initial followed by the last—
C. McCullough.
Lydia frowned. “Candy?” she said into the din around her.
Bending closer, she searched the faces of the girls, and sure enough, a younger version of Candy was in the second row from the bottom, all the way on the left by the coach—
“Wait, what … ?”
The man standing by the team, wearing slacks and a colored shirt with the school emblem on it, was big, but trim, with a straight, no-nonsense jawline and black hair that was cut short. Going by the planes and angles of his face, he was somewhere in his forties.
“Eastwind,” she breathed as she read the line, “T. Eastwind.”
Somehow, in some impossible way, Sheriff Eastwind was in a photograph forty years ago …
… looking exactly as he had when she’d seen him the day before.
“You are not going to believe this.”
As Lydia came through the WSP’s front door, Candy was already focused on her and talking, like they’d been in a conversation the entire time she’d been gone.
“What?” Lydia asked with exhaustion.
“Here you go.”
The envelope that was held out over the reception desk had nothing written on it and wasn’t sealed. Lydia traded car keys for the thing.
“Thanks for the loaner,” she said. “I topped up the gas. And listen, I got a message from Paul saying mine will be ready tomorrow—”
She stopped as she pulled her paycheck out. “What’s this?”
“I think it’s self-explanatory?” Candy sat back. “I called the bank to try and see where we were because the electrical bill is due—and surprise! We have fifty thousand in the bank.”
C.P. Phalen, Lydia thought.
“That’s amazing,” she said.
“So you can buy yourself dinner tonight. And maybe for someone else, too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay.” Candy smirked. “But Bessie’s husband saw you on the back of a certain motorcycle this morning coming in here early. So unless our groundskeeper is running a side hustle as an Uber driver …”
Lydia shook her head. “I just caught a ride into work with him because we had to release my wolf. And would you rather come in at eight in the morning with me?”
“Nope.” Candy put her hands up. “I start at eight-thirty.”
“Exactly.”
“But tell me something, where is he staying?”
Lydia didn’t hesitate because she’d been waiting for someone to ask her this: “Out in the woods on the preserve. He showers in Trick’s stall in the equipment building.”
“Well, there you go. I guess the mystery’s solved.”
As Candy just stared across the desk, it was clear the woman wasn’t buying the story, but whatever, nothing to be done about that.
And then Lydia frowned at her check. “Wait, who should sign this? There’s no signature on the bottom.”
“You have to.”
“But I can’t sign my own check, can I?”
“Okay, fine. I’ll just go out into the woods and find a wolf to do it. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure the paw print is of age.”
“How about I start with looking at our bylaws.”
“All right, and when that tells you nothing, we’ll put the wolf plan in play.”
Lydia laughed a little and started to walk away. Then she looked back. “So I went to Lincoln High just now.”
Candy frowned. “What for?”
“Just needed to use the library. You used to be on the varsity track team.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, my God, you saw that picture. Makes my pink hair seem not so scary right? I had feathered hair for days back then. That was right after my parents moved us out of Brooklyn. As you’ve noticed, I kept the accent as a parting gift from my borough.”
“You were a seventies queen, for sure.” Lydia hesitated. “And your coach. That was Sheriff Eastwind’s father, right? They look … like twins.”
Candy’s face did not change its expression. And her voice didn’t alter. And … nothing really was off about the woman. But the air became charged around her.
“Yeah, that’s right. He’s the spitting image of his dad.”
There was a long moment. And then Candy’s brows lifted. “Is there something else?”
As Lydia’s temples started to ache, she rubbed one of them. “No, nothing. I just thought the resemblance is uncanny.”
With a shrug, Candy turned back to her monitor. “Sometimes that happens. Not that I know personally. My fur baby doesn’t look a damn thing like me.”
OUT IN THE preserve, Daniel took a break from the hammering. The temperature was around sixty degrees, which would have been fine for physical effort. The sky was cloudless, though, so the sun was baking him like a ham.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far for relief.
The last of the three bridges was the one in the worst condition, but it spanned a cool mountain stream that was running. Hopping down onto the stones, he bent over and splashed his face and neck. As he righted his head, the cool water dripped onto his chest and was absorbed by his T-shirt.