No.

Returning quickly to the waterfall, Spencer began his search for Evelyn’s firearm. He was certain he knew the spot she’d left it but no matter how hard he looked he couldn’t find it. Retracing the ground several times Spencer was jolted in shock when another voice spoke.

“Looking for this?”

Spencer spun on his feet and turned to face the newcomer. It was a man, dirty and dishevelled, roughly Spencer's age or possibly older but extremely weather-beaten and lined. The man’s clothes were filthy and extremely worn. The man was a hobo or some sort of itinerant drifter. He had Evelyn’s pistol in his outstretched hand by his side, pointed 45 degrees towards the sky. An **** chill went up Spencer’s spine.

Spencer’s voice caught at first. “Yes. My friend dropped it. May I have it back?” He held out his hand for the gun but the man made no sign of response at Spencer’s request.

A minute passed painfully slowly for Spencer, his sense of foreboding increasing until the homeless man spoke again.

“Where is your pretty friend?” he asked.

The man didn’t seem all with it to Spencer as he cupped his groin and squeezed it at the same time as asking about Evelyn. The action made Spencer’s stomach churn at what the stranger’s intentions could have been with Evelyn had she been here and not him.

Whatever they were, Spencer didn’t want him to know anything at all about the Sheriff’s deputy's location. “She’s gone. Long gone. Rode a motorbike back down off the mountain.”

The man again took his time before answering, perhaps trying to put thoughts together in his disordered mind. Spencer’s blood had gone as cold as the stream beside him.

“Hmmm. No need for you then.”

Spencer didn’t even have time to raise his hand before he was gone. Neither he nor anyone else heard the almighty boom that echoed down the mountain and faded away before reaching Avonwick.