“That cabin is private property.” Ben took the hook off the rod, a wriggling worm still attached to it. A bucket at the side contained water and three fish trying to swim in the confined space.

“The fish are not dead.” Eve instantly chided herself for her trite remark. 

“I’m not killing them. They’ll go into another pond.”

            “Couldn’t you use a net, so they don’t get hurt? Anyway, the cabin. I’m not going to trespass, I promise.”

“Because you want to see the owl.”

She nodded. 

“The place has a bad reputation,” Ben said.

“Why?”

“The owner’s notorious. If you stay in the area, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Eve felt the blood drain from her face. “Is it drugs?” The last thing she wanted was to stumble unwittingly upon a crime lord and his henchmen. She’d taken a few self-defence classes ages ago, and she tended to have a key clenched between her fingers when she walked home alone at night, but she’d be no match for well-trained career gangsters.

“Heavens, no,” he said, regarding her with faint amusement. “You must have lived in pretty rough places.”

“Life on the mean streets.” She imitated a heavy drawl, to lighten the situation. To be fair, she had witnessed a mugging during her childhood in Portland, Oregon, and another one in Bristol.