CHAPTER FIVE
Where the concrete of the parking lot bled into the stony trail, Ilse stood beneath the wide shadows of a large pine. They'd left in the morning, and now afternoon greeted them. Wind rustled through the branches, and the kiss of summer heat warmed her cheeks. Ilse nodded politely, stepping aside as a group of tourists made their way past her, moving along the trailhead.
Agent Sawyer stood off to the side, frowning from beneath the shadowed brim of his cap. During the height of summer, some might be allergic to pollen or certain types of flowers. Sawyer, though, seemed allergic to tourists. He didn't quite scowl at them, but it was a close thing.
He rubbed at his sweaty forehead beneath his cap, and glanced towards Ilse, muttering over the murmur of the fading tourist voices
