Mysteries in Our National Parks: Wolf Stalker: A Mystery in Yellowstone National Park. Gloria Skurzynski

‘water that keeps on coming out,’” Ashley said. “How’d you like it, Troy?”

      If Troy was impressed, he wasn’t going to admit it. Ignoring Ashley, he asked Steven, “So why didn’t you take pictures? You’re supposed to be a photographer.”

      “He’s a great photographer,” Jack declared.

      “At home I’ve got lots of shots of Old Faithful. Mostly, now, I photograph wildlife. Elk and bison and mountain lions—”

      “Yeah?” Troy shrugged. “They told me you just work in some fast-photo shop developing film.”

      Steven flushed a little, but he answered patiently, “That’s my day job. If I could make a living photographing animals full-time, that’s what I’d do.”

      Jack couldn’t stand it. Why was his father being so polite? And so was his mother, and so was his sister Ashley, as if Troy were some special, important guest the Landon family had to fuss over and make as welcome as possible, instead of just the obnoxious punk kid that he really was.

      Almost from the first minute he’d met him, Jack had wanted to take a punch at Troy.

      When the doorbell rang the night before, all the Landons had gathered in the entryway. After taking a deep breath, Olivia reached out to open the front door wide.

      “Hi. I’m Theresa Lopez,” a woman with curling gray hair had said, at the same time grabbing the area right above Troy’s elbow to lead him inside. “And this is Troy Haverson.”

      Shuffling, head down, Troy hung back behind the social worker. Right off, Jack could tell he didn’t have a lot of money. Not that the Landon family did either, but Troy looked different, more raw than the kids who lived in Jack’s neighborhood. His black bomber jacket was plastic, not leather; the kind with cheap silver zippers that didn’t close right. His sneakers were so worn the sides had pulled away from the canvas like strips of rubber lettuce. On the step next to him was a cardboard box he was using as a suitcase. Bands of duct tape had been wrapped around it; on top, the tape looped into a makeshift handle.

      Jack wanted to smile at Troy, to try to be nice so his dad would be pleased. It was Steven’s idea that the family take in short-term foster kids, to “put something back into the system,” as Steven phrased it. But Troy kept his eyes down and his face turned away.

      Looking grave, the social worker said, “This guy has had a pretty rough go of it, but I know he’s going to be fine. He really appreciates you helping him out on such short notice. Right, Troy?”

      “Mm.” Troy pulled his hands from his pockets, crunching his fists tightly against his sides. Squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax; it was as if he could barely hold himself together inside his skin.

      He was tall, taller than Jack, and thicker in the chest and arms. Even though he was only 13, a faint mustache shadowed his upper lip. Dark eyebrows knit over the bridge of his nose. For an instant his chin bobbed up; wary brown eyes skimmed the Landon family, then dropped again. Stringy hair hung over Troy’s face like a curtain drawn against intruders. To Jack, the boy looked meaner than a trash dog. How long, Jack wondered, was this shelter kid going to need sheltering?

      “Great to meet you, Troy,” Steven Landon said heartily. “You’re welcome here.”

      “Yes, Troy, we’re all so happy to meet you,” Olivia told him.

      Ignoring her, Troy asked flatly, “When can I go to my room?” A look passed between Jack’s mother and father and the social worker until it came around and rested on Troy once again.

      “How about now?” Steven answered. “Son, take Troy to where he’s staying, and make sure you show him the bathroom and the kitchen while you’re at it. Your mother and I need to talk to Ms. Lopez for a minute.”

      Troy grabbed the duct-tape handle and followed Jack down the hallway. Brushing past Jack, he walked into the guest room just as Jack was about to announce, “This is it.”

      In the silence, Troy’s glance darted around the room. Jack tried again. “The bathroom’s through that door, and the kitchen’s—”

      “The room with the refrigerator, right?” Shaking his head, Troy snorted as if Jack were the stupidest person in the world. He didn’t seem to notice the navy bedspread Olivia Landon had so carefully washed and smoothed out, or the wicker basket filled with apples Steven had placed on the dresser, or the computer banner Ashley’d made to welcome him.

      “Okay,” Jack said slowly. “So you’ve already figured out our house. Do you need anything else?” He hoped the answer would be no, because all he wanted was to escape into his own room and hide.

      Troy flopped onto the bed. He kicked off one shoe by using the toe of his other foot. The worn sneaker flew into the air before hitting the wall with a thud.

      Repeating the process on the other shoe, he asked, “So what did they say about me? Did they tell you my mom just walked out the door and didn’t come back?”

      Taken by surprise, Jack didn’t know what to answer. He just nodded.

      “Liars. They’re all a bunch of freakin’ liars. My mom would never leave me. Never.”

      But she had. According to the report given to the Landon family by the Department of Social Services, Troy’s mother had simply disappeared, leaving him all alone, with no food and no money.

      “Something bad must have happened to her,” Troy insisted.

      “Did you tell the police?” Jack asked.

      Troy laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Yeah—I stayed on my own for two days, then I called the cops. Big mistake. They took down all the stuff I told them, and then they asked who was stayin’ with me and I said ‘No one. I can handle it. You guys just find my mom.’ So instead the cops called the Social Services and they came and got me.”

      “Well, when your mom comes back, they’ll let her know where you are and everything’ll work out OK.”

      “Don’t you listen?” Anger crackled from his voice and his dark eyes. Jack had never met anyone who seethed the way Troy seemed to, as if emotional lava was roiling just beneath his skin and any second could erupt. “My—mom’s—in—some—kind—of—trouble! I need to be home so I can find her.”

      “But you can’t stay all by yourself.”

      “Why not? I don’t need anybody.” Leaning back, Troy knit his fingers together and rested his head in them. Suddenly Ashley came bowling into the room and ran smack into Jack’s back.

      “Sorry, Jack. Hi, Troy.”

      Troy gave Ashley a little wave, but to Jack it looked more like a put-down than a hello.

      “Jack, guess what?” Ashley exclaimed. “Something happened! Didn’t you hear the phone?”

      “No.”

      “Mom got a call, and this guy says wolves came down and ate his dog even though it wasn’t doing anything and it’s been on talk radio and stuff and now they need Mom to figure out what happened.”

      “Does she always talk so fast?” Troy asked.

      She did, but Jack didn’t like Troy enough to tell him so.

      “Ms. Lopez told Mom it’s OK to take Troy with us, but we have to get ready right away. We need to hurry up and pack!”

      “Wait a minute, did she just say I’m going somewhere?” Troy demanded. “No way!”

      Ashley’s large brown eyes widened even more. “But we’ve got to go! If we don’t, they might kill all the wolves!”

      “Hold it!” Jack said, taking her arm. “Just slow down and start again. Where are we going?”

      “To save the wolves. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, first thing.”

      “What