Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Vol. VII (Books 19-21)

By Leslie Langtry

From USA Today bestselling author Leslie Langtry comes a boxed set of three hilariously over-the-top Merry Wrath Mysteries! This boxed set includes three, full-length novels featuring the CIA assassin turned Girl Scout troop leader, including:

Mosquito Bite Murder – book #19
When Merry Wrath takes a group of six Girl Scouts camping in the woods, she can't imagine what could go wrong. Enter an abandoned scout camp, a dangerous spy, a shallow grave, hostile senior citizen hermits, and a 200lb snapping turtle! Can Merry figure out who is behind the strange occurrences before the camping trip ends up with a body count?

Manga and Murder – book #20
Murder at the Druid-Con comic book convention has Merry Wrath in over her head! Especially when an innocent man is accused of the killing, and her scout troop is on the case and out of control. Can Merry move quickly to clear her friend's name and rein in her troop before it's too late?

Mayor for Murder – book #21
Merry Wrath, can't believe it's finally here—the Who’s There, Iowa mayoral showdown between the dull and clueless Mayor Van Meter, and Merry's uber-ambitious eleven-year old Girl Scout Ava. But when the mayor goes missing and a dead body turns up, can Merry get to the truth and find the mayor before the election...or will she be leading future Scout meetings in juvie?

"Leslie Langtry has outdone herself! I’m still laughing over some of the antics and can’t wait to see what trouble Merry and her Girl Scout Troop encounters next! If you love cozy mysteries with a huge slice of quirkiness, look no further."
~ Fresh Fiction

"Langtry gets the fun started from page one!"
~ Publisher's Weekly

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
• Release date: Nov 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005164515

Leslie Langtry

Leslie Langtry is the USA Today bestselling author of the Greatest Hits Mysteries, The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, and several books she hasn't finished yet, because she's very lazy. Leslie loves puppies and cake (but she will not share her cake with puppies) and lives with her family and assorted animals in the Midwest.

Book preview

a Merry Wrath Mystery

by

LESLIE LANGTRY

* * * * *

CHAPTER ONE

Riley fought his way through a giant spiderweb, looking like a deranged lemur standing on two legs and practicing some sort of disco-karate moves. I supposed I could've told him to watch out before he stepped into the sticky mess, but you have to take your fun where you can get it.

Why are we out here in the middle of nowhere again? he asked.

We're not in the middle of nowhere, I disagreed. "We're about to enter a vast forest preserve. Which is definitely somewhere, because it's on a map and everything."

This was true. We were about to enter an enormous forest for some hardcore camping. Well, that's what I'd told the girls anyway. They were actually my cover for something entirely different, which, now that I thought about it, might not have been the best idea.

And, I added, the girls are working toward their Bronze Award by finding and mapping an old Girl Scout camp.

Which was a pretty cool cover, even though it was true. Camp Deer Path had been defunct since the 60s. The Council had wanted to locate its remains for a long time. We'd offered to do it for them—which gave us the perfect excuse to go camping.

And why isn't Kelly here? He eyed the girls nervously.

Because she's taking that training… I slapped my hand over my mouth, wishing I could take the words back.

Riley's eyes narrowed. Kelly worked for him as a researcher for his private investigation agency.

He brushed the remains of the web off of his tanned, muscled arms. What training?

Oh well. He was going to find out in a week anyway. Maybe he'd get eaten by a bear and Kelly would never know I'd inadvertently ratted her out.

The field training certification that you were too cheap to send her to, I explained.

My former CIA handler sighed. Tell me she didn't use her agency credit card to sign up for that.

For your information, she got a full scholarship. From the Merry Wrath Foundation, but that was just splitting hairs. Kelly didn't know it either, to be honest. But she deserved this training, and Riley was too cheap to send her.

All set, Mrs. Wrath. Betty and the other five girls saluted me.

They were wearing little military uniforms and camo face paint. They looked like a fifth-grade terrorist militia.

Riley's eyebrows went up. I have a couple of questions. Firstly, are we training these kids to be commandos? And second, is that really a good idea?

Do you want me to frag him, Mrs. Wrath? Betty asked as she began whittling a punji stick.

I waved her off. Maybe later.

My name is Merry Wrath, and I used to be a field agent in the CIA. I say used to be because I was accidentally outed by the vice president, who had it in for my senator father. My name is really Fionnaghuala Merrygold Czrygy, but with all the publicity that accompanied my flight from Chechnya, I changed it to my mother's maiden name of Wrath and moved home to Who's There, Iowa.

Once back home, my best friend, the aforementioned Kelly, decided we should be Girl Scout leaders. I have to admit, it was more fun than the CIA. My troop was precocious and obnoxious, which equaled awesome in my book. I couldn't say the same for the people I'd worked with, like Carlos the Armadillo and Wally the Chechen strongman—who'd been too serious for their own good. They weren't as dangerous as my troop either—something I took immense pride in and a smidge of credit for.

If Riley was apprehensive about Betty's suggestion, he didn't show it. Instead, he double-checked his designer backpack and adjusted his tailored cargo pants.

Have you ever been camping before? I asked him as he pulled a Hermes silk scarf out of the backpack and tied it around his neck like a bandana.

He rolled his eyes. Of course I have. Remember Mongolia?

I did remember Mongolia. "That was more like glamping! We had an air-conditioned yurt with Wi-Fi and a pizza oven!"

Riley frowned. What's glamping?

It's glamour camping. I pointed at his designer duds. What you're doing.

Oooh, I like that idea. He pulled out a can and sprayed his hair.

Is that hairspray?

He nodded. It's a combination hairspray and bug spray. Gucci makes it. Riley sprayed the air, and I sniffed.

That smells like cologne. I shook my head.

I had to pack light. This—he indicated the can—is three things in one. I thought you'd approve."

Betty had been watching. She stepped forward and asked Riley for the spray can.

Betty thinks it's legit. Riley pointed at the girl, who was now surrounded by her troop mates.

Betty was my challenging one. She was also my fun one. It depended on the situation and whether or not there was opportunity for something dangerous, scandalous, or both. She held up a lit match and then sprayed it with the canister. It turned into a massive fireball.

Cool! We have a flamethrower! Lauren and the others applauded.

Only six members of my ten member troop had been able to join us. Two of the Kaitlyns (of four Kaitlyns who looked exactly alike), Ava, Inez, Lauren, and Betty. The other girls couldn't come due to conflicting plans—which was starting to happen a lot. My troop was very active, in everything from church to sports. There were times when I worried that scouting would lose priority with them. But then Betty would turn a can of hairspray into a flamethrower or we'd do something with cute animals and the overwhelming enthusiasm would make me feel better.

Most of the girls were involved in specific activities, like Lauren, who was a junior zookeeper at Obladi Zoo…Ava, who had started (and as far as I knew was the only member of) FIUA or Future Insurance Underwriters of America…or Betty's after school Fight Club (which I pretended not to know about). It was great that they were so busy but sad because they all couldn't participate in everything we did.

I thought we only had five girls coming? Riley asked.

I nodded. Ava was able to take a break from her mayoral campaign. Her parents said it would be good for her. I think they were just afraid of her. From what I hear, she's become a little power-mad. In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to suggest that Betty be her security director. She's once again planning to kidnap the current mayor. I'm not sure that's a solid move, politically, but the girls need to learn how to do these things for themselves.

She's still in the running, then? Riley's right eyebrow went up.

Yup. Got her petition through, and I think her chances are good. I'm going to vote for her.

For reasons no one understood, there was no age requirement to run for mayor of our small town of Who's There, Iowa. There's a requirement to be human, after a few terms where a donkey ran things. But nothing that says you had to be of a certain age.

Eleven-year-old Ava was my go-getter, with the dream of becoming CEO of a large insurance company. Why? Who knows? The kid was obsessed with insurance. When she discovered the loophole at City Hall, she thought she'd start her leadership trajectory by running for mayor.

That's cool, Riley said. I'll have an in for city contracts.

I called for the girls' attention. We hadn't yet entered the forest preserve, and I wanted to make sure we were all set before going one step farther. Is everyone ready?

We ran through the checklist of the usual stuff. Since we were backpacking for three days, we had to carry everything we needed on our backs. I took on the heaviest equipment, and the girls and Riley divided the rest. We had tents, canteens, matches, dried food, trail mix, and such. Everything you needed to commune with nature.

I was especially excited because I'd figured out how to freeze-dry Pizza Rolls. The girls were going to be happily surprised. And of course, we had the makings for s'mores. I was pretty sure that legally, you couldn't have a Girl Scout camping trip without them.

It might seem odd that Riley was joining me. But I needed his help. We weren't just here to take my troop hiking. We were here on a mission. An old colleague from my spy days, Maria, had looked me up recently. It turned out she needed help for some unknown reason.

I could've brought my husband Rex—detective for our town. But he followed the rule of law, and to be perfectly honest, sometimes the CIA did not. Which meant that I needed someone who wasn't afraid to make the rules all bendy-like.

Maria had gone rogue a while back, when she discovered that the agency was on the brink of acquiring technology that quite frankly, no country should have. I hadn't seen her in forever. Then, out of the blue, I got a message from her asking for my assistance. At the same time, I discovered that a CIA agent had been watching me, in hopes of catching Maria. This made her request more urgent.

I mentioned that the girls were looking for a camping project, and she thought it would be fun to tag along. The Vallee des Cranes, or Valley of the Skulls, Forest was a massive preserve, discovered by a French explorer, who, according to legend, was out looking for mushrooms, but instead found three dozen skulls lying around. He quickly named the place, even though it was a forest, not a valley, and fled back to Paris where he spent years in hiding, believing he was being stalked by Ioway Indians—who never even knew he'd been there and, in fact, didn't care.

It was an enormously vast forest, and from what I've heard there are no cell towers, restrooms, or any conveniences. Well, except now, with amenities like freeze-dried Pizza Rolls and Riley's French and Italian designer gear. That's the Girl Scout motto—Be prepared.

Since Riley knew Maria and was obviously familiar with the doings of the CIA, I asked him to come along. To be honest, I didn't think he'd want to come. But the lure of clandestine ops with Maria proved to be too tempting, and after what I can only assume was a shopping trip to Saks Fifth Avenue in Omaha, Riley agreed to go.

Ava stepped forward and read the checklist aloud as the girls confirmed this thing or that. I thought I heard zip gun on the list but decided to ignore it until I could see and confiscate it. Riley looked amused but said nothing.

I clapped my hands together. Okay, then! Buddy up and let's go!

The girls got into pairs, lined up, and with me in the lead and Riley in the rear, we headed into the great, green unknown. There, we'd rendezvous with Maria and find out what she needed from me.

Whatever it was she wanted me to do—whether a secret mission or muscling in on some action, I just hoped we could keep it from Betty.

CHAPTER TWO

The sun was shining through the trees, and it was a gorgeous late summer day, made all the better by being with the girls. In the last five years we'd had many adventures, and I enjoyed every one of them. Oh wow. I'd been a leader for five years now! Where did the time go? It seemed like only yesterday that my troop was learning the basics of first aid, knot tying, and fire-building. Well, it didn't take them that long to master fire. My troop was made up of elementary school pyromaniacs who had no qualms about setting fire to any pile of wood. It was a good thing I'd hidden all the matches.

After doing the math in my head, I realized we only had one more year of elementary school before middle school. What if my troop didn't want to continue at that point? The thought chilled me to the core. What would I do if we didn't have meetings every other week or swim parties and camping in the summer? Now that the troop was older and getting busier, what if they didn't want to do stuff with me anymore?

The idea was devastating. This couldn't be! I'd have to work harder! Find more experiences for them so they wouldn't want to quit. I could promise them bigger and better things, like ziplining over Victoria Falls, bungee jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, or a survivalist training camp in Iceland!

Are you alright? Riley gave me the side-eye. You've gone kind of pale and look like you might pass out.

I'm fine, I insisted. But I wasn't fine. I was having an existential crisis. My troop might leave me in a couple of years! What was I supposed to do then? I didn't have a job. There was no way I'd be able to just sit around the house and knit grenade cozies! I didn't even know how to knit!

Are you sure? Riley repeated. You look like you did in Minsk, when our housekeeper quit.

I narrowed my eyes. I liked her. We never had it so good after she left. The next housekeeper couldn't even vacuum. You should not have seduced and dumped her.

In fact, most of our domestic issues while Riley and I worked together were due to Riley's irresistible charm. He could melt the panties off of any woman with just a smile—which was great if you wanted information from the German ambassador's secretary but not so great if you wanted someone loyal to clean your toilet.

Forget about it, I snapped. Focus on the job.

Riley thought for a moment. You seem pretty worked up. Is it this thing with Maria? Do you know something I don't? He looked around as if he were afraid the woman might jump out at him at any moment.

I don't know anything, I admitted. She just said she needs help with something.

Does she know I'm coming along? he asked.

No. And for a moment I wondered if I hadn't made a mistake. Maria never really had a problem with Riley, so it probably wouldn't be a big deal that he was here.

I guess we'll find out when we see her, he mused.

I didn't reply. I was too busy making a list of exciting experiences I could do with the girls before middle school. I wondered how many of them had active passports. That was one thing we'd have to do when we got back. That and I'd have to explain to Kelly why the urgent need to take the girls to India to help with the monkey census or go dogsledding in Finland.

We were about three hours into the hike when Riley asked for a break, and while the girls gathered to examine a nest of centipedes, he pulled out the map. By the way, you should know that the insect didn't frighten my troop. One of the first things I'd learned as a leader was to take the fear out of any living creature by telling the girls it was a baby mouse/bat/snake or whatever. Worked like a charm, and even the grotesque became adorable.

Where are we meeting Maria, again? He held out the map.

I pointed at a clearing at the top of a hill. There. She'll be waiting for us here.

Riley frowned as he slapped at a mosquito. Why not just meet in a coffee shop or your old house?

My jaw dropped. It's like you were never in the CIA. We can't meet in public. Maria is considered a traitor.

Riley held up his hands defensively. I just wondered why we had to come all the way out here.

Because in addition to helping out an old friend, my troop is working on their Bronze Award, I explained for like the third time today.

Riley attempted this time to pay attention. And what's that exactly?

A prelude to the Nobel Peace Prize. Betty appeared. Which I'll get for helping the Basque people win their independence. She fell back to her buddy, and partner in crime, Lauren.

What's with her and the Basque region? Riley asked.

Obsession was more like it. A couple of years ago she saw a documentary on the History Channel. And our troop had never been the same since.

There were three awards in scouting—Bronze, Silver, and Gold. You started younger with the Bronze Award and worked your way up. I wasn't entirely sure what we'd do for the next two…especially since the Council frowned on things the girls had brainstormed, like establishing your own government on an island off of Ecuador where everyone had to wear mismatched socks or creating a sanctuary named Cookie's Unicorn Princess Sanctuary for retired Scout camp horses.

I should explain. Cookie was a horse my troop met during their first trip to camp, where the equestrian director told them that Cookie was being sent away for not working out well. Somehow my troop thought was secret code for glue factory, and for a whole year that horse was the inspiration for every single thing the girls did, made, or talked about. When we went back to camp the next year, we found that they hadn't gotten rid of Cookie after all.

Cookie is still at the camp to this day.

Camp Deer Path was founded in the 30s and abandoned in 1966, I explained. Mostly people just forgot it even existed. When the land surrounding it was bought up and turned into a nature preserve, access was cut off. Now the Council wants to find it, map it out, and see what's salvageable to bring back.

You think it's still standing? Riley asked. After all these years?

We might find nothing, I admitted. But there might be something. So, we volunteered to check it out. We had to get special permission from the Abbott's Trust—who owns the preserve—to camp here for a few days.

This isn't open to the public? Riley wondered.

Nope. We are the only ones allowed in.

There isn't much of a trail, he mumbled as he looked ahead to a narrow dirt pathway about twenty feet away. We've basically been walking through the woods.

These are deer paths, I said. People don't hike here usually. Come on! Where's your sense of adventure? We're going into the great unknown to explore a place that hasn't been seen in decades!

Those days are over, he declared. Now my sense of adventure is limited to staying at a four-star instead of a five-star hotel.

"Whatever. I think it's exciting."

Is it safe out here? I should have brought a gun, he mused. Maybe I can borrow the zip gun Ava mentioned.

Oh sure. We're the only ones permitted. I understand that there are regular patrols around the perimeter. No one ever comes here.

I feel better already. Riley's voice dripped with sarcasm. Did Maria get permission?

I rolled my eyes. Of course not. This meeting won't actually exist.

How is she going to get in if there's security? Riley asked.

You're joking, right? Maria had the same training we did. All she has to do is time the perimeter patrol and slip in when they aren't around. Easy.

He looked around before whispering, What about wild animals? Bears? Mountain lions?

I laughed. There haven't been sightings of animals like that in these parts for decades. We're more likely to run across deer, snakes, and toads. Stop worrying.

We started hiking again. The girls began singing camp songs, which was a usual activity when we hiked. I joined in, and soon we were belting out songs about dirty camp socks, crazy elephants, and hungry sharks. Riley did not join in, the insufferable snob.

After an hour or so I announced a break for lunch. The sun was high in the sky, but with the dense trees we couldn't see or feel much of it. In spite of the heat of the summer, it was a bit chilly on the trail.

When are we rendezvousing with Maria? Riley pulled a map from his backpack.

I studied the map. It isn't far now. We should be there in about an hour.

The girls pulled out their homemade sit-upons and started digging into jerky and trail mix. For those of you who don't know, a sit-upon is one of the first things a Scout makes, sewing together two tarp squares stuffed with newspapers. The purpose is to keep your clothes dry and your butt warmer than the temperature of the cold, clammy ground.

We'd all decorated our own, mine with Dora the Explorer doodles. Others' had images of Cookie the horse and unicorns, and Betty's with a heraldry shield she'd made herself, filled with Disney villains and an AK-47. I had to admit—her attention to detail was impressive.

Maria and I had agreed to meet at a spot that would be relatively easy to find—a tree-less hill with a panoramic view of the woods. She had planned on hiking in from another route the night before. She'd camp overnight and meet up with us. We'd spend the rest of the time talking about whatever she wanted from me while the girls checked out the camp. Sounds simple, right?

A pang of concern caused a small knot in my gut. This was pretty secretive. What was so important that we had to find a place like this? And was she still in trouble with the CIA after all this time?

I wasn't convinced I could even do anything to help her. After all, I'd been out of the agency for a while now. I didn't have a security clearance anymore, although I did have someone on the inside who was obsessed with Girl Scout cookies. Ahmed had given me small bits of intel over the years. But he was always terrified to do so. I wasn't sure if that was because of me or the scary S and M dominatrices who ran HR at Langley.

Which brought us to Riley. If one ex-CIA agent is good, two had to be better. Between the three of us, we could do just about anything. Well, not anything. Some things were beyond a normal person's skill set.

For example, I could impersonate Bolivian royalty at the Pentagon, a Russian ob-gyn at a sexually transmitted disease convention in Mongolia, or a Spanish astrophysicist playing golf in Scotland, but when it came to acting onstage, I was hopeless. You'd think those things went together, right? So did I until I did an unfortunate version of Chava in a Honduran performance of Fiddler on the Roof that totally blew my cover and sent me running for my life from a surprisingly pitchfork-armed audience.

Mrs. Wrath? Inez stood in front of me. Technically, I was Mrs. Ferguson. When my name was Wrath, I was a Ms. But little girls believe that everything over the age of sixteen is 1) impossibly old and 2) most likely married and on the brink of old age and death, which the girls set at age forty.

What is it? I asked before shoving a handful of trail mix that was unnaturally heavy on M&M's into my mouth.

The little girl cocked her head to one side. We were talking about killing a guy with three fingers, but Betty said it could be done with one.

Such were the dilemmas I faced with this troop.

Riley bit his lip to hide a smile. He'd had enough experience with the girls to know they were stone-cold serious. He was also smart enough to know that this was one of those situations where he shouldn't say anything.

I looked around before realizing that Kelly wasn't here to tell me this was a bad idea and you should tell them not to ever try to kill a guy with any fingers. It obviously depends on which fingers you use.

Can you explain? The girl leaned forward eagerly.

I got to my feet and brushed off my pants. "Not until you're at least twelve. Come on now, it's time to get going." Kelly couldn't argue with twelve. I was twenty-two when I learned, and it was something I wished I'd known sooner.

We hit the trail again and continued along as I tried to think of a way to avoid telling them that Betty was right. You only needed one finger. The trick was where you put it.

Remember Cairo? Riley caught up and walked alongside me. I toyed with explaining that his walking in the greenery would leave him with poison ivy oil on his pants but changed my mind.

That—I pushed a branch out of the way—"took two fingers."

Two and a half, he corrected.

Oh, right, I agreed. Two and a half. I forgot about using the index finger knuckle.

Unfortunately, I can't tell you about the events that took place in Cairo. But I can say that it involved a particularly nasty Russian spy and that he did not know the finger trick or where to put them. Which was a benefit for us and very, very unfortunate for him.

I can't decide if your troop is delightfully quirky or terrifyingly dangerous, Riley mused.

I agreed. A bit of both. By the way, I should warn you not to give them any more matches, aerosols, or nine-volt batteries.

And I have to wonder, he continued, if little girls are really like that or if you've been a bad influence.

Well, according to Kelly, it's the latter, I explained. But I just think my troop is exceptional.

We walked the rest of the way in silence as the girls debated the finer points of whether centipede babies were as cute as assassin caterpillar babies, something that, I'll admit, most fifth-graders didn't do.

Is that it up ahead? Riley squinted at a hill in the distance.

I think so. I started to jog. Come on! Race you!

All six girls beat us to the base of the hill.

We'd been hiking for hours now, and I'd decided it would be a good idea to camp at the top of the hill, where we were supposed to meet Maria. I'd just crested the hill, about two hundred yards from where the girls were, when I spotted what looked like some sort of tarp or piece of cloth in the distance.

As I closed in, I began to run. Riley was hot on my heels. For some miraculous reason, the girls stayed back.

It was a piece of cloth. Actually, it was clothing. Worn by a person lying in what appeared to be a shallow grave.

CHAPTER THREE

Seriously… Riley gave me a look. What is it with you and dead bodies?

Girls! I stood up with my back to the grave. I'd like you to scout out a good spot to set up camp for the night.

What about where you are now? one of the Kaitlyns asked.

I shook my head. No, this is a terrible spot.

Why? asked the other Kaitlyn.

Because… My mind raced to find something that would work. These kids won't fall for just anything. Vampire ticks. A whole nest of them. Okay, so I made that up. Maybe they wouldn't notice.

Vampire ticks… Lauren's eyebrows went up. Here's where I could get into trouble. Lauren knew a lot about animals. What if they come over to the other side of the hill?

Because I just put vampire tick repellent down. We should be good.

To my surprise, it worked. The girls nodded knowingly and began to check out the other side of the clearing. Technically, I wasn't lying to them since pretty much all ticks were blood suckers, which made them legitimately vampires.

I wonder who it is. Riley crouched beside the body.

I hope it's not Maria. It was hard to tell, as there was a piece of material covering the body.

Do we get ahold of the sheriff and wait until he arrives? Riley asked.

Nope. I reached for the covering. In case whoever it is might be alive, we need to give first aid. I grabbed the edges of the material and pulled it off.

I'd never seen the man before. He wore a polo shirt with khakis and tennis shoes. He had longish, brown curly hair and looked like he was around thirty. There was no backpack, and he was absurdly underdressed for a lengthy hike to be unconscious in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, I was wrong about this being a shallow grave. It was more like a natural depression in the ground. So that seemed like good news.

He's breathing, Riley said.

Oh good. I was relieved. For the first time since we'd started, I wished Kelly were here. A former emergency room nurse, she could've brought this man around. She was our first aider. I was responsible for…other stuff.

Is he dead? a voice asked.

I looked around and realized I was surrounded by the girls.

There were no questions about vampire ticks as the two Kaitlyns dropped their packs and started rummaging around. Oh. Right. They'd also had first aid training.

I don't see any extraneous injuries, Riley said. It doesn't look like he was stabbed, strangled, or bludgeoned.

I agreed. Maybe he was poisoned?

We'll fix him up, Lauren assured us.

But if things are bad and he isn't gonna make it, Betty suggested. Maybe we can practice the one-finger kill?

Not a chance, I said. Using it on a dying guy would be silly—how would you know if it worked or he died from something else?

Riley pulled me aside, and we turned our backs on the girls in an attempt at discretion. I really don't like this.

I wish I'd brought my gun, I said. Nobody good brings someone way out here and dumps them. Whoever it is may still be nearby.

Or worse, he added, it could be more than one person.

I considered this. Obviously, whoever dumped the guy didn't care that this was a private preserve and that trespassing was forbidden. They probably thought that he'd never be found in this remote location—and certainly not by a troop of little girls.

Which meant we were in danger. We need to find out exactly what happened and who we are up against.

Riley nodded. We'd better see if we can rouse him.

All done! one of the Kaitlyns announced.

All done? I turned around. The man had been bandaged from head to toe, as if he'd suffered two broken arms, dislocated shoulders, a head wound, and a gut shot. A strip of thick, white zinc sunscreen coated his nose, and a bottle of smelling salts had been duct taped under his nostrils. And yet, the victim remained unconscious.

We weren't sure what hurt him, Inez reasoned. So we just went for every option.

We're out of bandages now, one of the Kaitlyns added.

Riley again knelt beside the man and gently shook him by the shoulders. Wake up, he said as he jostled the guy a little harder.

The man didn't so much as flinch.

Maybe the smelling salts are old? I wondered. They always work on me.

That was the truth. I was almost hyper-sensitive to the stuff. I could smell it a yard away at least, which came in handy once when I was embedded undercover with Carlos the Armadillo—a Colombian drug lord. I had inadvertently fallen into a coma caused by an accidental misuse of what was supposed to be dummy cocaine.

Instead, it was not only the real thing, but an experimental hybrid formula loaded with melatonin because insomniac Carlos thought it might help him sleep better. He never really understood that cocaine was a stimulant.

Anyway, they brought in some smelling salts made at a coffee plantation in Honduras, and before they even walked two feet to give it to me, I went from unconscious to standing up. No one knows how I did that. Apparently I looked like a vampire rising from a coffin. It gave me some interesting street cred with the gang.

That bottle is brand new, Lauren insisted. I made it myself.

I reached down and ripped the bottle away, hoping the shock of having duct tape ripped off his nostrils might wake him up. It didn't. I brought the bottle to my nose and sniffed carefully.

Is that potpourri? I asked. I smell roses and cinnamon.

Lauren nodded. The usual salts smell nasty. I thought it would be way better to wake up smelling something nice.

I hesitated. Telling the well-meaning little girl that it was the nastiness that woke you up wouldn't make any difference if this was the only bottle we had.

Here. Betty slapped a bottle into my hand. This will work.

Before I even brought it to my nose, I felt woozy. After shaking my head to clear it, I asked, Have you gotten into my chloroform stash again?

The girl narrowed her eyes. I was going to use skunk essence, but I didn't know where to get it, so I thought that was the strongest stuff you had in your basement.

Too bad she didn't find the Chechen hot sauce I kept down there. The main ingredients were turpentine and goat intestines. That would've worked like a charm.

I've told you not to go down to my basement, I chastised.

Even though I was married, I still owned my first house, which was across the street from my house with Rex. It was useful for troop meetings and for storing my old CIA toys. I mean, you never knew when you'd need a straightening iron, box of tampons, or binoculars.

The tampon box was a cleverly disguised explosive, and because of what it was, no man would ever check it out. The binoculars could double as night vision goggles and could shoot metal-melting lasers, which proved unfortunately dangerous when I was watching squirrels once in my backyard. No, the squirrels weren't injured, but I felt bad about the huge branch that was lasered off the tree. The straightening iron was good for…well, straightening hair.

Betty got up and wandered to the other side of the hill. Did you hear that?

Betty, I chastised. You can't change the subject. I really need you to stay out of my basement.

Yeah, yeah, okay, fine, she said quickly. But I really do hear something.

What is it? I joined her. She was right. It sounded like a man or big deer crashing through the underbrush on the forest floor below us.

Someone's coming, she said. We should set up a defensive perimeter with booby traps.

There's no time. Get back with the others, I said, shoving her in that direction.

Someone was coming. I spotted them emerging out of the woods at the base of the hill. It was just one person, in a camouflage military boonie hat, which they kept down to hide their face. Actually, I could only see them from the top of the head down, so I had no idea who it was.

Maybe it was Maria? I didn't think so. From the shadow on the ground, the guy was tall. Maria was of average height. Besides, I'd see her gorgeous, wavy dark hair flowing beneath the cap. Unless she'd shaved her head—in which case she'd have me totally fooled.

I gave Riley a silent signal to protect the girls. Either that or I'd told him that a fat chihuahua was eating a marshmallow. My skills were a bit rusty.

He nodded and stood between the girls and me, at a distance where hopefully he could protect them should this guy get past me. Why wasn't it the other way around, with Riley as the first line of defense? Because I was a better fighter than he was—something that was a bit of a sore spot with him that we never talked about.

I looked down at the top of the cap and wondered if it was the person who'd put the almost dead guy here. If so, was he coming back to make sure his victim was really dead?

As the person started to crest the hill, I lunged forward, head down, and tackled them, my arms around the waist. We rolled around in the dirt for a few seconds before a female voice said, Merry! Get off of me!

I pushed myself to my knees. Hilly?

CHAPTER FOUR

My CIA colleague and friend and I scrambled to our feet.

I couldn't believe it! It really was her! Hilly, what are you doing here?

I was careful not to ask if she was here for Maria. Hilly Vinton was an assassin who wasn't an assassin because the CIA doesn't have assassins because that would be wrong—in other words, she totally was. I think I'm still required to say that even though I'm retired.

Hilly still worked for Langley. Was it possible she was here to bring Maria in? I couldn't recall if the two women were friends or not. But even so, it might not matter if Hilly was on the job. And if she was, I needed to get word to Maria.

Nice to see you too. She dusted herself off.

"Hilly!" The girls squealed, ran over, and surrounded her.

Hilly hugged them all in one awkward group embrace.

What are you doing here? Riley repeated my question as he approached carefully. He and the Amazonian killer didn't always see eye to eye, and since Hilly was rather quirky, it was dangerous to assume she was harmless.

"Riley is camping?" Hilly's eyes grew wide.

I know, right? I snickered.

Hey! Riley protested. You invited me, remember? He didn't go so far as to say why, meaning he was thinking the same thing I was. That Hilly might be a threat.

Hilly turned to the girls. Hey guys! I brought some C-4!

"Yaaaay!" the girls cheered.

No one is using explosives. I cut their cheers short. This is a nature preserve. I held up one finger. And what does that mean?

In unison, the girls said, We always leave a place better than when we found it.

Their announcement made me smile. That's right.

Hilly made a face. Spoilsport.

"You can't blow up anything in here," I repeated.

She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. Not even just a tiny bit? She looked around. There's lots of trees here. They wouldn't notice one down.

I shook my head. Nope.

After two seconds of considering this, the assassin brightened. Okay!

Quirky didn't begin to explain the woman, but then again I'd never met an assassin who wasn't. In fact, even though she was tall, bronzed, and had long dark hair that she currently had braided around the crown of her head, Hillary Vinton was a smidge delusional in that she believed she was constantly getting confused for the much shorter, older, blonde Hillary Clinton. And that was the least of her personality anomalies. The biggest was that she always left her victims' bodies in dumpsters.

Which made me think. In a hushed voice I asked, You aren't responsible for the guy we found, are you?

Maybe it was because of her line of work, but she didn't look particularly surprised by my comment.

Hilly cocked her head to one side, looking a bit like a killer cockatoo. What do you mean?

I led her over to the guy we'd found. He was still breathing but still knocked out.

She bent over and studied the man. "I don't think so… After a moment she straightened up. No. I'm sure of it. I didn't do it."

Are you sure? Riley asked. You seemed to hesitate a little.

Hilly turned to him. Of course I am. He's still alive, isn't he? Totally against my professional code of ethics. Besides, I always stand by my work. One hundred and seven percent guaranteed satisfaction.

That's what my mom calls a good work ethic. Ava nodded. You should be on my mayoral campaign team.

Betty nodded. You'd be a good help with the other candidates. Particularly the current mayor.

I shook my head, No one is offing the mayor. It was time to change the subject. Seriously, what are you doing here?

She shrugged. I just got back from a nice, relaxing vacation in Syria and thought I'd stop by.

Who goes on vacation in Syria? Riley asked doubtfully.

And—Hilly ignored him—I was in town to visit your druids and Kelly said you were here.

My jaw dropped. Kelly? Kelly told you where we were?

Kelly thought Hilly was a terrible influence on the girls. She was mad at me for even introducing the assassin who isn't an assassin to the troop.

Yup. Hilly's eyes went up and to the left as she considered this. Yes. That's my story.

"Your story?" Riley asked.

She looked genuinely confused. What do you mean?

Before Riley could answer, I cut in. You said you were visiting my druids?

That's right. I have druids. They were a group of surly teenagers who call themselves the Cult of NicoDerm and who own an old Lutheran church they've renamed the Chapel of Despair. I'm their Bird Goddess because they think I can communicate with birds. I can't. Not really. There's a big difference between just talking to a king vulture and actually having a conversation with one, and I hadn't achieved that level of communication yet.

"Yeah. I just wanted to see how the movie rights are going for Beetle Dork. I called Kelly, and here I am."

I suppressed a shudder at the mention of the comic book that Hilly wrote and turned over to the cult. It featured me. Unflatteringly. I was Beetle Dork.

Where did you come into the preserve? I asked.

She pointed in the opposite direction from where we had come, which was at least a two-day hike.

You came all this way to visit? I pointed at the thick forest she'd emerged from. Through that? Just for fun?

Hilly shrugged. "What? It's not like it's hard."

Where's your backpack? Riley asked.

I left it down there. She pointed to the woods.

Go get it, I suggested.

She shook her head. Later. I don't need it now.

Riley gave me a silent signal indicating he was very suspicious. Well, it was that or he was letting me know that a platypus was going to give a zither concert later. I kind of hoped it was the latter, if I'm completely honest. I do love zither music.

So, she said quickly, who's the almost stiff?

No clue, I admitted. I wonder if he's in a coma. Nothing's bringing him around.

She looked at me. Want me to… She drew her finger across her throat. No charge.

I waved her off. It hardly seems right, with you on a social call and all that.

Can you kill him with one finger? Betty asked.

I cut Hilly off before she could answer the girl. No, we don't need you to kill him. We would like to help him.

The woman shrugged. Suit yourself.

Thanks for stopping by, Riley said. But we've got a Pewter Award to earn so…

Bronze, Hilly corrected. It's a Bronze Award.

Kelly told you that? Huh. It seemed strange for Kelly to give Hilly that much info.

Hilly shook her head. I just assumed, considering the age of the girls and all. She turned back to the guy on the ground. "If you don't want me to float the weasel… She wiggled her eyebrows as she used slang for what she really meant. I can bring him around." Hilly used strange euphemisms for taking someone out. I thought this one was particularly fun and made a mental note to come up with my own phrase using vampire ticks.

Hilly bent down and using her index finger and pinkie, poked him in the breastbone three times, followed by a poke on each side of the clavicle.

The man shot up into a sitting position with a loud gasp. His eyes bulged as he took gulping breaths.

Amazing! Lauren gushed as the two Kaitlyns took Hilly's hands in theirs. Want to help us set up tents?

For a moment I thought about stopping them. We didn't need to set up tents if we were going to dodge whoever did this to the guy. But maybe it would be better for the girls to distract Hilly so Riley and I could interrogate him.

Sure! Hilly agreed, obviously not concerned they'd be setting up a campsite next to a place where a man was left for dead.

So you can bring an almost dead dude around with two fingers, Betty said as they turned away. But how do you kill them with only one?

The trick, I heard her say as her voice trailed off and they walked away, is which finger to use and where you put it…

CHAPTER FIVE

I don't like it, Riley murmured to me as he watched the man struggle to regain his senses. Hilly doesn't just magically appear in the woods in the middle of nowhere for a visit. Do you think she's looking for Maria?

I shrugged. I wouldn't put anything past her. Hilly's a professional. I hesitated to say any more since we now had a witness.

The man stopped sputtering and started to notice we were there. Still covered by a layer of bandages, he looked from one of us to the other before surveying his surroundings with a start.

What's your story? I asked.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" He backed up using his hands and feet. With all the bandages, he kind of resembled a mummified crab.

Relax, I soothed. I'm Merry, and this is Riley. We were hiking with our Girl Scout troop—I waved in the direction of the girls—and found you here. You're safe now.

The man looked over both shoulders. "Safe? You're joking. I'm not safe anywhere! You guys have to get out of here! They might come back, and then they'll kill you too!"

My legs were starting to burn in the crouched position, so I stood up. Riley maintained his position as if it didn't hurt to do so—the bastard. The dude stayed sitting.

What's your name? Riley asked.

The man's eyes narrowed. Chad?

You aren't sure? I asked.

I don't know you guys, and it's better if you don't know me, the man said. His voice was high-pitched and wheezy, like Scottish bagpipes.

Okay, Chad, Riley tried again. How did you end up here? Brisk after-lunch walk from the country club?

Chad seemed confused until he looked down at his shoes. Oh. Um, yeah. That's exactly what happened.

Really? I folded my arms over my chest. You just said 'they' are going to kill you and us.

Must be some overly eager country club security team, Riley whistled. What did you do? Cheat at golf?

Chad didn't say anything.

I'm sorry you're in this situation, I said. But if my troop of eleven-year-olds is in danger and you won't tell me how or why, I might have to finish you off myself.

Chad visibly gulped but refused to speak. Instead, he began to remove the bandages that encircled him.

This riled me. This guy knew my girls were in danger but wasn't offering any information. And I could tell by Riley's narrowed eyes and grim mouth that he was pissed off too. And worst yet, Chad was wasting all of our bandages!

What would be the proper procedure in this case? Threaten to break a finger? Break two without threatening and then break a third? Too bad we didn't have a car battery after all. What I wouldn't give for a dozen fire ants, some mayonnaise, and a three-foot long pipe cleaner.

As Chad took off the last of the bandages and dumped them in a pile on the tarp, he seemed a bit more relaxed. Relieved even. Did that mean that now that he'd calmed down, the threat wasn't as dire? This man knew something.

I'm going to go borrow the zip gun, I said to Riley.

Chad turned pale. What?

I mean, it probably won't kill him, but it will definitely maim, I continued, wondering if that was true. It depended on which of the girls made it. If it was any girl other than Betty, it probably fired dandelions and sparkled. On the other hand, if Betty had made it, it might be able to shoot through him and the tree behind him.

Riley nodded. Don't forget the lighter fluid. I think I packed about a gallon of that.

As if he'd let something like that near his designer backpack. But it was part of the illusion I'd started, so I nodded all the same.

You won't hurt me! Chad's protest seemed a bit weak.

I got close, my face inches from his. When it comes to keeping those little girls out of danger, you don't know what I'd do.

Riley agreed. "She's ex-CIA. I wouldn't mess with her."

Chad was startled. CIA? he squeaked.

Now—I sighed and threw my arms in the air—"I have to kill him. Way to tip my hand there," I chastised Riley.

Kill me? Chad's voice went up a whole octave.

Well, that's what we do when we're not camping with Girl Scouts, Riley said.

I laughed. Remember that Bosnian spy in Moldova?

Riley laughed. The one who screamed like a goat?

Only when we used the super-heated tweezers. I nodded. Good thing you brought lighter fluid.

We were making part of this up—there really had been a Bosnian spy in Moldova and we had been able to make him talk, but we didn't torture him with super-heated tweezers. That was all improv, and once again I wondered why I could do stuff like this convincingly but still couldn't act. Maybe it was just Fiddler on the Roof. That musical was tough.

We both laughed as Chad started to gag.

Am I missing all the fun? Hilly joined us. Are we torturing him?

Of course we weren't really going to torture him because that would be wrong. Absolutely! Want in?

The girls were setting up a fire pit. A big one. That was helpful.

Chad's mouth dropped open as he scanned the very tall woman standing in front of him. "She's CIA too?"

Hilly nodded. Assassin. At your service.

Aw dang, I said. We aren't supposed to admit we have assassins. Now we really do have to kill him.

Not until after we're done, Riley pointed out.

Too bad there's not a dumpster for at least thirty miles, Hilly mused. I suppose a brush pile would have to do.

We'll have to remove his head and fingerprints, I added.

That won't work. Riley shook his head. Forensics are pretty good these days. We could find a couple of wolves. Or bears. That should take care of…most of him.

"Stop it!" Chad screamed.

The girls looked up from their task. I shook my head, and they went back to it.

I'll tell you! Chad looked a little green.

That was almost too easy, I said.

Hilly nodded. Remember that Bosnian spy in Moldova?

I shrugged. Well, once you cut their tongue out, they can't say much anymore. We should save that for last. Once again, I was making this up. Not all spies are torturers. You have to get extra licensing for that. They do have better dental though.

I said I'd tell you! Chad began to hyperventilate.

Oh. Right. Sorry. I just got carried away, I apologized.

Riley looked at Hilly. How did you know about the Bosnian spy? You weren't there.

She shrugged. Interoffice memo. You guys are kind of legends for that.

That was nice.

Okay! Okay! Chad held his hands up. My name really is Chad. And I don't really know why, but someone threw a hood over my head, grabbed me off the street, threw me in a black van, tied me up, and started asking for information on some woman!

My spydy senses were tingling. Was it Maria? I wouldn't put it past the agency to do something like that. And in spite of it being such a cliché, the CIA still used black conversion vans for stuff like this.

Interns loved using them to pick up dry cleaning. Many in the agency thought the college age hires went a little too far sometimes by wearing ski masks to pick up coffee, but I sympathized because it was the only fun they had, since they usually found out the first day that they'd be stuck making copies, collating expense forms, and taking their managers' chihuahuas to get their anal glands expressed.

Could be anyone, Riley replied out loud to what he knew I was thinking.

Hilly didn't seem to think this was strange and said nothing.

What woman? And why would you know about her? I asked.

I don't know! I work in IT for a data mining company—you know, the kind where you look at a video of a sloth on your phone and then ads for sloth T-shirts pop up in your social media feed? It's a totally boring job. I have no idea why someone thought I was a threat to anyone!

Yeah, I'd heard things like that all my life. No, I'm not a terrorist—I'm an asparagus farmer! I don't know anything—I'm an accountant for a twist-tie manufacturer! I don't know why they are after me—I'm just a turtle trainer! Why are you following me? I just taste test chewing gum!

Although, I did find his occupation made me hate him a little more. It really annoys me when I do one little, innocuous search for death mittens and find twenty ads for socks with skulls and mittens on them in my news feed. The least they could do would be to post something like mittens that shoot lasers out the thumb or something.

So, I said. You are a completely innocent Iowan who was walking down the street, when someone forced you into a van and started grilling you about something you know nothing about?

Chad nodded vigorously. Yes! Exactly!

We were silent for a moment.

I'll get the zip gun, I said as I got to my feet again.

Hilly nodded. And the sharp and splintery toothpicks.

I kind of wondered if she'd really brought those in her mysteriously down the hill backpack. I wouldn't put it past her.

Riley studied the man's mouth, which was hanging open. "He doesn't need all of his teeth."

Chad squeaked, I swear! That's all I know. Hey! Maybe they got me mixed up with someone who looks just like me! Happens all the time in the movies!

Does this look like a movie set to you, Chad? Riley asked.

Something in the man's attitude shifted. Chad folded his arms over his chest. Do your worst. I'm not telling you anything because there's nothing else to say!

I don't know if he knew it, but he kind of had us there. We weren't really going to torture him. The last thing I needed was for the girls to see us do that. Kelly would kill me. Like, literally kill me if I gave the girls ideas.

Tie him up, I said at last. When we get into town, we can tell everyone we left him here. Alive.

And that he totally spilled the beans. Hilly nodded.

"And gave us a bunch of papers to mail to the Des Moines Register," Riley added.

What? Chad squawked. You can't do that! They'll kill me!

Who will kill you, Chad? I asked. Besides us, that is.

The man was seriously terrified, but I wasn't sure if it was of us or someone else.

I pulled the other two aside. This isn't getting us anywhere. And it'll be dark soon. Should we move on to find a place to set up camp?

Hilly looked down the hill. I think he's lying. I don't think anyone is after him.

Riley was quiet—which was unlike him. Apparently he was deferring the decision to me.

If we stay, then we have the higher ground, I murmured. If we go, we don't know when we'll find a clearing to camp in. And those trees are pretty dense.

Why don't we move on to Camp Deer Path? Riley suggested. Or call it and go home?

Seriously, guys, Hilly said. I don't think there's anyone coming after this guy.

You seem pretty sure of that. Riley's eyebrows went up.

Hilly seemed to think about this for a moment. Yes. Yes, I'm sure.

We need a decision, and we need it now. I watched the girls as they started setting up the two tents—one for Riley and one for me and the girls, and now, presumably, Hilly.

Do you know how much work it is to take those things down and pack them up so they fit back in the little bags? I added with a shudder.

I could make a map fold up the way it was originally. A lot of people can't do that. But when it comes to putting something back in the bag it came in, like a sleeping bag or tent, I struggled. Fortunately, the girls could do that, but like everything else with elementary school kids, it took an insanely long time.

Riley glanced at his watch. I think we have maybe three hours until sunset. We still might make the old Scout camp.

We don't even know if whoever dumped him in the woods is still here, I said quietly.

Look—Hilly pointed at me—we have three agents trained in combat here. She looked Riley up and down. Well, some are better at it than others. I think we should just tie this guy up for the night and I'll take the first watch.

Chad got to his feet but maintained his distance. For a moment, I thought he was considering running away (which would've solved our problem), but he didn't.

It seems like he'd get out of here if he really thought someone was still in the woods, I mumbled. Okay. We stay. Hilly's got the first watch. But don't torture or kill him. My stomach rumbled, and I brightened. Who's up for freeze dried Pizza Rolls and s'mores?

CHAPTER SIX

Chad was so terrified of Hilly that we decided we didn't need to tie him up. We even offered him food. He sat by the fire, looking glum and pulling the hoodie Riley'd given him tightly around his body.

None of this made any sense. And at any moment, Maria could pop up, making things even worse. Or better. I still didn't know much about Maria and Hilly's relationship. It would be better not to tell the assassin about the rogue agent just