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Travis had hold of Sarge’s leash and I was trying my best to hang onto Max. Both dogs were so fuckin strong they could pull you right off your feet if they felt like it.

We ran past the last campsite in this park, climbed a fence, ran across a dirt road, over another fence and into the next park on the other side of the road.

Not the front of the park, but the side. No name or sign oranything. We didn’t know where we were going, but the dogs did. They were going in a straight line following where the little boy had walked from when he left his dead parents.

Soon as we climbed the second fence we had to stop for a breath. Travis was winded and had to take a break. “Keep going with Max. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay.” I sucked in a few gulps of oxygen and let the big Belgian Malinois pull me forward.

Wasn’t long before I heard birds squawking.

Max kept running, and looking up I saw a lot more birds. Vultures perched up in the trees making a huge noise. Screeching and squawking and flapping their big wings.

The campsite was on the water. Had to be Lake Frances. Small rowboat tied to the dock. Pop-up camper trailer hitched to a blue Ford F-150 pickup. Two dead bodies on the grass near the dock with a couple of the birds on them.

Max sat down next to the bodies and held up his paw waiting for his reward. I gave him a biscuit and patted him on the head.

“Yep, good boy. You found them all right.”

Travis caught up and stood beside me looking down at the man and the woman. Young—they were young—twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

Travis stepped away and made a call. He was on the phone to Doctor Olsen in Cut Bank. He was our county coroner.

“Doc, I’m at a campground down on Lake Frances and we have two homicide victims. Male and female. Throats cut. Not a pretty sight. Waiting for you here.”

“What’s the name of the campground, Travis?”

“Not sure. We came in from the side—the road between this one and Lake of the Woods. Far east side of Lake of the Woods Campground. Sorry, the dogs ran straight through. I’ll send Harlan to find out where we are and call you back.”

“I’ll start driving down and you can give me better directionswhen you find out.”

“Yeah, I’ll work on it and call you as soon as I figure it out.”

While Travis talked to Doc Olsen, I took the man’s wallet out of his pocket to check his ID.

Johnathan Walker from Kellogg, Idaho. The woman didn’t have ID on her, so I checked inside the camper and found her purse.

Kathy Walker. Same address.

Travis finished his call. “Got IDs on them?”

“Johnathan and Kathy Walker from Idaho.”

“Huh. On vacation, I guess,” said Travis. “You see if you can find the office to this park and get the name of it. I’ll call Tammy and Ted and get them over here to the crime scene.”

“Do you want the little boy over here, boss?”

He glanced down at the bodies. “Umm…not particularly. Ted can drive Tammy and the boy to the station. You and I can manage here with Doc Olsen. We’ll talk to the park owners before we leave.”

“Copy that.”

Travis sat down at the picnic table to wait for Doc Olsen while I ran through the woods searching for a road that would take me to the park office.

Once I hit the narrow dirt road and followed the campsite numbers backwards to one, I came to the office.

Small building with rough cedar siding made to look like tree bark. Mostly it just looked like shit. I went inside and a bell jingled over the door.

“Yes, can I help you, Sheriff?”