"You OK, Freeman?"

"OK," I said, realizing I had long forgotten the ranger's name.

"Griggs," he said. "Dan Griggs."

"Thanks, Griggs."

The eastern sky was lightening, though the sun was still too low to break through the tree canopy. In time we both sat up, leaning our backs into opposite posts at the end of the dock. I finally took a solid look at the guy. He was a good ten years younger than me, lean with sandy blond hair and skin too fair for his job in the Florida sun. His ranger uniform was soaked up to a dark line across his chest. His leather boots were oozing mud. He was still wearing his belt with a knife scabbard and a flashlight holder.

"You swim out here at dawn often?"

He grinned and shook his head without looking up.

"I'm usually on dawn patrol out on the main river," he said. "I've seen white smoke rising from your stovepipe before, but when I saw it was black, I knew something was wrong and motored up here."

"Couldn't get the Whaler in," I stated.

"Had to tie her up and wade in. But I could see the flames even from deep water."

"Guess I picked a bad morning to sleep in."

Griggs still hadn't looked up into my face.

"I figured you were here 'cause I could see that your canoe was gone from the landing."

"I appreciate you looking after me," I said. "The whole place might have gone up if you hadn't been here."

This time Griggs did look over at me. The irony was not lost on him. Several months ago it was Griggs who had to serve papers from the state informing me that the Attorney General's Office was attempting to break the ninety-nine-year lease that Billy held on the old research shack.