Bayou Wolf

But who?

Payton’s gaze swept the room, studying the guarded faces of his friends, his family. Each one appeared shell-shocked. Eyes reflected varying degrees of dread and many had slumped shoulders, an aura of defeat. Jillian appeared to take the news the worst. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hands trembled in her lap.

“But maybe it wasn’t one of us.” Adam, their youngest member, spoke up. “There was that Native American thing found by the body. Maybe whoever left it was the real killer.”

Russell caught his eye. Payton shook his head a fraction, signaling not to speak. His friend frowned, but kept quiet.

As quick as Tallulah had been to judge all of them, he wasn’t ready to attach blame. The dream catcher at the scene, combined with the fact that she was the person to discover the body, looked bad. He didn’t know Tallulah well enough to determine her character, but the ripped flesh on Jeb’s neck and the loss of blood was an ironclad indictment against one of them.

“It was one of us,” Matt insisted. “But that Tallulah Silver concerns me. She suspects something and she snoops about the place too much.”

Matt stared straight at him. “Didn’t you have dinner with the other evening? How well do you know her?”

Jillian stopped sniffling and cast alert eyes on him.

“Evidently, not well as well as I thought.”

“Then get closer to her,” Matt commanded. “Find out what she knows and then throw her off our trail.”

“She’s freely told the sheriff what she’s seen. As far as throwing us off our trail, I don’t see how I’m supposed to do that.”