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make any sense," Sergeant Collins said. "Why would they waste their time trekking through the snow when they can move more quickly through the water. I'm telling you; we need to focus our efforts along the shoreline."

"That does make more sense," Captain Reynolds agreed.

"I'm not disputing that water is quicker," Will said. "But what do those bootleggers do once things freeze up? They don't take a sabbatical from smuggling, do they?"

Collins laughed. "Nope. Most of them turn to driving on the ice."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because we catch 'em, that's how."

"Exactly my point. You know where to find them once winter hits, and they know it. It just stands to reason that some of those smugglers might find alternate routes to maintain their business."

"And you think Iron Falls is along one of those routes?"

"I don't know, but it could be. There are modern roadways, train stations, places to lodge and eat along the way, but there's less people than along the shoreline. If I were a smuggler bringing alcohol in from Canada and I wanted to avoid the police, it's the route I'd take."

"It's not a bad theory, but not one I'd stake extra troopers on," Sergeant Collins said.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Collins," said Reynolds. "I can't go moving men around based on a theory. However, I think it's worth keeping an eye on. Report back next month and let us know if you see anything more concrete. Now, speaking of old mining towns, there was another problem up in Calumet…"

Will listened quietly but returned to his doodling. The rest of the briefing would be discussing worker strikes and uprisings, problems Will didn't need to worry about at his post. The mine at Iron Falls was miner owned now and did not face the same employee discontent that larger, company owned mines faced.

In fact, until recently, Iron Falls had been a piece-of-cake post - the majority of his assignments consisting of handling coyote issues and the occasional moonshine arrest. But things had felt different around the mining town since the Henry Lambecker situation. Will found it unsettling that no arrests had been made, but his hands had been tied, as they hadn't actually caught him using his still.

Then there was the matter of Jimmy Richardson. Will was plagued by the fact that they still hadn't solved that murder. And although he had no doubt there was some sort of connection between the two cases, he hadn't been able to find it.

Thomas Rogers leaned over, interrupting Will's thoughts. "Collins is a jerk. I can't stand big city folks and their smug superiority."

"You forget, I'm from Lansing," Will whispered back.

"You're the exception. You don't treat any of us country boys like we're dumb or below you. Collins lives to degrade anyone he sees as beneath him, which apparently includes you now that you're in Iron Falls."

Sergeant Bob Collins' attitude toward Will had nothing to do with the size of Iron Falls. From his first days in the Upper Peninsula, Collins made it clear that he resented Will. Will had had his pick of posts, including the much larger Marquette post. If he had chosen Marquette, Will would have been Collins' superior officer. But, as the Sergeant of Iron Falls, they were nothing more than peers. However, his choosing Iron Falls changed things for new recruits in the peninsula. New recruits, who would have previously been trained in Marquette, were now funneled through Iron Falls under Will's instruction, per Colonel Vandercook's orders. Collins took it as an insult. He had a few more months experience than Will in the U.P., but Will was a better marksman, a skill that apparently Vandercook felt important.

"At least the runners are bringing in pure stuff," Rogers continued. "It's those home batchers that are the problem. Lost another three young boys up in Copper County who drank some bad hooch just last week."

Will didn't agree - the bootleggers that had invaded Michigan were an unsavory lot - but he didn't have time to argue because the meeting ended, giving Will something else to look forward to…returning to Phoebe.

He hadn't had a chance to make things right with Phoebe before having to head to Marquette for this meeting, and the way he had treated her weighed heavily on him. Yes, he'd been upset that she had acted foolishly, but his reaction had far less to do with anger than it did with his fear of losing her.

When he'd spotted that wolf on the ridge above her, alert and ready to pounce, Will's entire world threatened to cave in on him. He'd thought of nothing but saving her, of protecting her. He vaguely remembered yelling at her, but not what he'd said. He only remembered the world going silent as he lifted his gun and aimed. The next thing he remembered was kneeling over Phoebe's body, praying desperately to God that she was alright.

But his actions afterward were what was troubling him. Yes, he was angry. But that gave him no right to humiliate her, no matter how much pleasure he had derived from the experience. And it had been a pleasure, indeed, to carry her over his shoulder, if he were being honest.

Nevertheless, his behavior had been wrong, and he knew it. He just hoped that by the time he returned tomorrow, it wasn't too late to tell her so.