Tied With a Bow

that—”
    “Humor me.”
    The sheriff shrugged. “The guts, from what I could tell. Things were pretty much of a mess, though, so don’t hold me to that.”
    Yuck. Arjenie looked at her aunt in disbelief. She and Uncle Clay wanted the twins to be part of a circle investigating that kind of ugly? Even if the body had been removed by now—and she was hoping hard it had been—Arjenie would not have brought Sammy and Seri into this. They’d turned twenty a month ago. In some ways they were wise beyond their years, but in others they were naive, even immature. “Uh . . . has the body been removed?”
    Porter gave her a look that said he knew some of what she’d been thinking. “Yes.”
    “You’ve got an animal attack,” Benedict said, “but you haven’t asked me where I’ve been today.”
    “Unless Arjenie wants to contradict what her aunt and uncle told me, you’ve been with her this morning, and with the whole family since you arrived around two. But Peters wasn’t killed today. It’s yesterday and the day before I’m interested in.”
    But not worried about, Arjenie thought, or he would have made sure Benedict was sitting back here, safely locked up, when he asked that question. Why wasn’t he worried?
    “I was in D.C. We flew in on the nineteenth, arrived at eight forty that night. Stayed at her apartment, which we packed up. Arjenie and my men can speak for my whereabouts the whole time.”
    Porter’s eyebrows lifted. “Your men?”
    “Josh Krugman and Adam Thorne. Bodyguards.”
    “Interesting life you lead if you need bodyguards. I’ll want to talk to them, but later. Your story matches what Robin told me.”
    “And that’s enough for you?”
    “She also said that you make a very big wolf. A big black wolf.”
    Benedict nodded.
    “We found a tuft of fur near the body, got caught on some branches. That fur’s kind of an orangey brown, which doesn’t prove anything . . . but we also have some tracks.”
    “Not wolf tracks, I take it.”
    “Not anything like a wolf’s tracks. One of my deputies hunts. I’ve done some hunting myself, but not like Matt. Lots of experience with all kinds of game. He was pretty sure about those tracks, but I had his uncle come have a look, too. K. J.’s a pro—he’s hunted pretty much everything you can hunt in North America, including bear. Made a couple trips to Alaska for that.”
    “K. J. Miller?” Aunt Robin sounded dismayed.
    “I guess you don’t much care for him,” Porter said, “but he knows his tracks and scat.”
    “K. J. Miller is a misogynist,” Arjenie explained to Benedict. “He thinks the world came to an end when women got the vote, and the rest of us just haven’t noticed. He and Aunt Robin have butted heads a few times.”
    “The tracks,” Benedict said. He was a tad impatient. “What about them?”
    “Bear. One honking huge bear. Has to be a grizzly—black bears don’t get that big.”
    Arjenie frowned. “There aren’t any grizzlies here. Nowhere near here. We must be . . .” She thought a moment. “Yellowstone and Grand Teton. Those would be the closest places where grizzlies have been seen, and they’re at least two thousand miles away.”
    “That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

Chapter Seven
     
    A grizzly could be a problem, all right, regardless of how it got here. Benedict considered what he knew about them. Not enough, he concluded, but enough to be sure he’d rather not tackle one without a half-dozen clanmates in wolf form to help . . . or the .30-06 he had back home. Or, hell, if he was wishing, might as well wish for his M16. That one would stop small to midsize demons, so it ought to work against a grizzly.
    Didn’t do him much good now. “Arjenie. What can you tell me about grizzlies that might be pertinent?”
    “The grizzly is a subspecies of brown bear— Ursus arctos horribilis . Adult males usually weigh between four hundred and eight hundred pounds. They’re mostly solitary, though they tolerate each other in some circumstances, such as when they’re fishing for salmon. They’re called grizzlies because of the grizzled look of their coats, which is the reason for their other name—silvertip bear. I’m thinking that orangey brown fur doesn’t sound like a grizzly. Other brown bears have more varied coats.”
    Arjenie’s vacuum-cleaner memory came in handy at times. “What other types of brown bear are there?”
    “On this continent, the other subspecies would be the coastal