Black Hills

from children, and pleased by the ones from potential donors asking for more details about certain programs.
    She answered each in turn, and with equal attention.
    She opened the next, caught her breath. Then slowly read it through a second time.
    hello lil. long time no see at least for you. you’ve sure been doing a lot around the place, it gives me a good laugh to watch. i figure we’ll get reacwainted. i figured on it being a surprize but seems like the locals figured out i was around. i’m haveing fun watching them chase there fat asses in the hills and will be leving a present for them soon. i have to say im sorry about the cougar but you never should of caged in that way so it’s your fault it’s dead. you think about that animels are free spirits and our ancesters knew it and respected them. you vialated the sacred trust i thougt about killing you for that back aways but i got sweet on carolyn. she was fine and she gave me a good game and died well. diing well is what counts. i think you will. when we are finished i will free all the animels you have put in prison. if you give me good game i will do it in your honer. stay well and strong so when we meet we will meet as equels. good old jim was good practise but you will be the mane event. i hope this gets to you ok i am not good with computers and have only borrowd this to send you this messag. yours truely ethan swift cat
    Carefully she saved the post, copied it. She took a moment to make sure she had her breath, and her calm, before she walked out to get Coop.
    She saw the taillights of Brad’s rental car as Coop strolled toward the cabin porch. “Brad wanted to get back to the farm in time to sweet-talk my grandmother out of a piece of pie. He’ll—” He broke off as she stepped into the light. “What happened?”
    “He sent me an e-mail. You need to see it.”
    He moved fast, shifting her aside to go through the door and straight back to the kitchen, where he angled the laptop around to stand and read the message.
    “Did you copy it?”
    “Yes. It’s saved to the hard drive and the thumb drive.”
    “We’ll need hard copies, too. Do you recognize the e-mail address?”
    “No.”
    “Should be easy to trace.” He crossed over, picked up the phone. Within a moment, she heard him giving Willy the details in a flat, expressionless voice that went with his face. “I’m going to forward it to you. Give me your e-mail.” He scrawled it on the pad by the phone. “Got it.”
    He passed the phone to Lil on his way to the computer.
    “Willy? Yes, I’m all right. Would you arrange for a drive-by? My parents.” She glanced over at Coop as he tapped keys. “Coop’s grandparents. I’d feel better if . . . Thanks. Yes, we will. Okay.”
    She hung up, barely stopped herself from twisting her hands together. “He said he’ll trace the e-mail and check it out right away. He’s going to call or come by as soon as he knows something.”
    “He knows he made a mistake with Tyler.” Coop muttered it as if speaking to himself. “He knows we’ve identified him. How does he know? He’s got a way to get information. A radio maybe. Or he risks coming into town to hear the local gossip.”
    Eyes narrowed, Coop reread the message. “Several places in town you can buy comp time, but . . . That’s a stupid risk. We’d find the source, then find someone who’d seen him, talked to him. That gives us too much more. So a break-in’s more likely. He sent it at nineteen thirty-eight. Waited for dark. Scoped out a house. Maybe one with a kid or a teenager. They tend to leave their computers on.”
    “He may have killed someone else. He may have murdered someone, more than one, just to send me that. Oh, God, Coop.”
    “We don’t go there until we have to. Put it outside,” he ordered, and coldly. “Focus on what we know, and what we know is he made another mistake. He came out of the shadows because he was compelled to connect with you. He learned we know who he is, so he felt free to make that connection, to communicate with you.”
    “But it’s not me. It’s his warped idea of me. He’s talking to himself.”
    “That’s exactly right. Keep going.”
    “He, ah . . .” She pressed a hand to her forehead, shoved it back through her hair. “He’s uneducated, and unfamiliar with computers. It had to take him some time to write that much. He wanted me—his version of me—to know he’s watching. He wanted to brag a little. He said he