Free In the Woods by Merry Jones

name, ‘Moshannon’, came from the Indian words ‘Moss Hanne’, which had nothing to do with moss, but meant Moose Stream.
    Harper was grateful for the narration. As long as Ranger Daniels talked, Angela didn’t. But she only half-listened, concentrating instead on her annoyance with Hank. She walked apart from him, not holding his hand or even making eye contact. After everything they’d been through, didn’t she deserve a weekend of his undistracted time and undivided attention? Why did she have to share him with samples and tests and passion for his career? Hell, she didn’t even have a career to have a passion for. She was dangling, disconnected. And there it was again, her sense of being lost and useless. Of having no purpose aside from being Chloe’s mom.
    Maybe it wasn’t Hank she was angry at; it was herself, for losing her direction. She kicked a rock, heard it plop into a puddle. Felt alone.
    ‘Bastard!’ Angela bellowed. She took off running up the path, her boots splashing mud. ‘I can’t believe you’re here, you damned bastard!’
    ‘Phil?’ Daniels ran after her. ‘You found him?’
    Harper tried not to slip in the muck as she followed. She didn’t look at Hank, heard him sloshing behind her.
    ‘You sonofabitch!’ Angela yelled. ‘Stan? Where are you? Get some pants on and come out here.’ She kept hollering, taunting someone named Stan.
    Harper came to a small, circular cove. She stayed back, quickly scanning the area, assessing it. Tarps covered the ground, separating the mud from a high orange tent and adjacent canopy. Underneath the shelter was a small propane stove. Two collapsible chairs. At least two gun cases. A portable cabinet that might hold more. Hank caught up with her, stood close.
    A shaved head emerged from the tent. ‘Angela? What the hell?’ The head disappeared again.
    ‘Come on, Stan. I got a ranger with me. Get your sorry ass out here.’
    A moment later, the man came out of the tent, buttoning a flannel shirt. He frowned at Angela, then the rest of them. ‘What are you doing here, Angela?’
    ‘I should ask you that question, Dickwad.’
    ‘Any of you guys want to tell me?’ The man looked at Harper, then Hank, then Daniels. ‘What’s going on?’
    ‘I’ll tell you what’s going on.’ Angela darted closer to him. ‘What’s going on is that Stan’s going to tell us what he did to Phil.’
    The man’s eyebrows went up, his head tilted, and he put his hands on his hips. He stood that way, looking at her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you better leave, Angela.’ His tone was flat. Ominous.
    Harper and Hank exchanged glances, not sure what was happening. Clearly, there was bad history between this guy and Angela. But who was he? Why did Angela think he’d harmed Phil? They stood at the edge of the cove, ready to move quickly. The guy was solid muscle. But with Hank and the ranger there, they could easily take him down. Except that he probably wasn’t alone.
    ‘Sir.’ Ranger Daniels cleared his throat. ‘I’m a park ranger. We’re out here looking for a lost hunter—’
    ‘Well, look what scum has crawled out of the bog.’ A round face edged with tangled brown curls popped out of the tent, followed by a short woman in an overly large sweatshirt, wool socks, and possibly nothing else.
    ‘Suck it, Cindi. Everybody, meet my lying cheating lowlife shit of an ex-husband Stan, and his lying two-faced housebreaking slut cow whore.’
    Cindi cracked her chewing gum and waddled across the tarp to stand beside Stan. ‘Pleased to meet you, Officer.’ She stuck her hand out to Daniels for a shake.
    ‘I’m actually a park ranger.’
    ‘Well, pleased anyhow. I’m Cindi. Stan’s wife.’
    ‘Oh, please. You are not—’
    ‘Oh yes, I am.’ Cindi held up her ring finger. It sported a large rock and matching gold band. ‘Musta forgot to invite you to the ceremony.’
    Stan wrapped an arm around her. ‘Pay no attention to her,