“This is better than a Coke.”

“Nothing’s better than a Coke first thing in the morning. You coffee hounds have it all wrong.”

“Just look.” He gestured. “That’s better than anything.”

She’d seen meadows before, seen the wild lupine and the butterflies it seduced. She started to say so, grumpy with caffeine withdrawal, but he looked so... struck.

And she got it. Of course she got it. Who better?

Still, she had to give him a dig, one with the elbow in the side, the other verbal. “There’s that mushy romantic streak again.”

“Stand right there. I’m going to get a picture.”

“Hell you are. Jesus, Gull, look at me.”

“One of my favorite occupations.”

“If you want a shot of a woman in front of a meadow of flowers, get one with clean, shiny hair and a flowy white dress.”

“Don’t be stupid, you look exactly right. Because you’re part of why it’s here. This is like a bookend to the one I took of Dobie in the black. It shows how and why and who go into everything between those two points.”

“Romantic slob,” she repeated. But it moved her, the truth of it, the knowing they shared.

So she hooked her thumbs in her front pockets, cocked her hip and sent him and his camera a big, bold grin.

He took the shot, lowered the camera slowly and just stared at her as he had at the meadow. Struck.

“Here, switch off. I’ll take one of you.”

“No. It’s you. It’s Dobie in the black, the fire raging behind him, telling me how much he loves this job, what he’s found in it. And it’s you, Rowan, in the sunlight with preserved beauty at your back. You’re the end of the goddamn rainbow.”

“Come on.” Mildly embarrassed, she shrugged it off, started toward him. “You must be punchy.”

“You’re the answer before I even asked the question.”

“Gull, it weirds me out when you start talking like that.”

“I think you’re going to have to get used to it. I’ve fallen pretty deep in... care with you. We’ll go with that for now, because I think it’s more, and that’s a lot to figure out.”

A touch of panic speared through embarrassment. “Gull, getting wound up in... care for people like us—for people like me—it’s a sucker bet.”

“I don’t think so. I like the odds.”

“Because you’re crazy.”

“You have to be crazy to do this job.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “We’ve got to get going.”

“Just one more thing.”

He took her shoulders, drawing her in. His fingers glided up to her face as he guided them into a kiss made for meadows and summer shine, the flutter of butterflies and music of birdsong.

Unable to find a foothold, she tumbled into it, lost herself in the sweetness, the promise she told herself she didn’t want. Her heart trembled in her chest, ached there.

And, for the first time in her life, yearned there.

Unsteady, she stepped away. “That’s just heat.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He hooked an arm around her shoulders in a lightning switch to friendly. The man, she thought, could make her dizzy.

DiCicco and Quinniock stepped out of Operations even as the vans pulled up to base.

“It’d be nice if they let us clean up first,” Gull commented, then he got off the van, nodded to the cop and the fed. “Where do you want to do this?”

“L.B.’s office is available for us,” Quinniock told him.

“Look, there are tables outside the cookhouse. I wouldn’t mind airing out some and getting some food while we’re at it. I expect Dobie feels the same.”

“You got that right, son. Did you figure out who’s dead?”

“We’ll talk about it,” DiCicco told him.

“We’ll take care of your gear.” Rowan gestured to Matt, Janis. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Appreciate it.” Gull gave her a quick look.

“Are we suspects?” Dobie wanted to know as they walked toward the cookhouse.

“We haven’t made any determinations, Mr. Karstain.”

“Loosen up, Kim,” Quinniock suggested. “We have no reason to suspect you in this matter. You can tell us where you were the night before you jumped the fire, between eleven P.M. and three A.M., if you’d like.”

“Me? I was playing cards with Libby and Yangtree and Trigger till about midnight. Trig and me had a last beer after. I guess we bunked down about one.”

“I was with Rowan,” Gull said, and left it at that.

“We’d like to go over the statements you gave the rangers on scene.” DiCicco sat at the picnic table, pulled out her notebook, her mini recorder. “I’d like to record this.”

“Dobie, why don’t you go ahead? I’ll go see what Marg can put together for us. Do you two want anything?” Gull asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a cold drink,” Quinniock told him, and, remembering the lemonade, DiCicco nodded.

“That’d be good. Now, Mr. Karstain—”

“Can you leave off calling me mister? Just Dobie.”

“Dobie.”

He went over what happened. What he’d seen, done, what he’d already told the rangers.

“You know, the black looks like a horror show anyhow, then you add that. Gull said it must be connected to Dolly.”

“Did he?” DiCicco said.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Dobie looked from one to the other. “Is it?”

“Dobie, how was it only you and Mr. Curry were in that area?”

Dobie shrugged at DiCicco just as Gull came out, two steps in front of Lynn. Both carried trays.

“We needed most everybody up at the head, digging line toward it, but somebody still needed to scout spots along the flank. So I volunteered me and Gull.”

“You suggested that you and Mr. Curry take that route?”

“She’s big on the misters,” he said to Gull. “Yeah. It’s a longer hike, but I like killing spots. Me and Gull, we work good together. Thanks.” He gave Lynn a smile when she set a loaded plate in front of him. “It sure looks good.”

“Marg said to save room for cherry pie. You just let me know if you need anything else.”