Slickrock (Gail McCarthy Mystery) Read Free

her water and food bowls were full, and I shut Roey back in the camper. I'd taken her for a run when I first got here; she should be fine for the night.
    So where the hell was Lonny? Out for a ride. But the sun was sitting right on top of the western ridge at this point, and nobody had come riding in down the trail for the last hour.
    Lonny knew he was meeting me tonight. So why wasn't he here? Annoyance and worry struggled for dominance in my brain.
    Well, neither of those emotions was going to help anything. I stared off across Deadman Meadow, already in shade. Crazy Horse Creek ran along its far side, as I knew. And right where the creek emerged from the canyon and rushed out into the meadow was a pretty little waterfall. I'd just walk quietly up and check out the waterfall. Spend a moment enjoying the mountains. If Lonny rode in, he'd know I was here-horses in the corral, rig parked nearby. We'd find each other.
    Resolved, I headed off down the trail that crossed the meadow, looking around with a deep sigh of relief. I was here, at last, about to achieve a goal I'd held all my life. I was going to spend a sizable chunk of time in these mountains all alone, with just my horses and my dog for company.
    The farther I walked into Deadman Meadow, the more the busy bustle of the pack station receded and I could feel the presence of the mountains around me. Granite and pine tree clad ridges rose up all about me; the meadow was springy under my feet. Ahead of me the chatter of Crazy Horse Creek grew louder. In another few strides the bright water was visible, jumping and chasing between boulders.
    I followed a faint trail that led upstream, worn by the feet of many fishermen over many seasons. The creek got noisier and noisier as I neared the canyon from which it emerged.
    It was dusk now. The air was soft and still and dim-with every moment that passed, the shapes around me dissolved further. I could see the lights of the pack station across the meadow. Wondered if Lonny had come in yet. Don't worry, I told myself, Lonny's had more experience in the mountains than anyone you know.
    Still, I peered hopefully through the gathering darkness at the big barn, although it was impossible to see anything as small as an individual horse and rider from here. And even less possible along the unlighted main trail, though I traced its course along the far side of the meadow. I could see a white horse, maybe.
    In point of fact, I saw nothing. I scanned the meadow one more time, started to turn away, and stopped. There was something out there. Something shiny. A car.
    The car was behind a clump of willows that screened it completely from the pack station and the main trail. It was partially obscured, but visible from where I stood on the banks of the creek. Small and low and dark, some sort of sports car, it had only caught my eye due to the sheen of light reflecting off its metal surface. It was pretty damn well hidden.
    This, I supposed, was because it shouldn't be there. The Forest Service did not allow cars to be driven out into the meadow. However, the big gate that blocked such vehicles from the main trail was often left open so that various ranger Jeeps, or pack station trucks, could go up to the ranger station at Bright Water Flat, a couple of miles up the trail. The gate had been open this afternoon, I recalled. But duly posted with many signs declaring it off-limits to cars.
    Well, this car had clearly ignored them. I guessed it belonged to a particularly lazy fisherman, and wondered briefly if it was now stuck. The meadow was damp in spots and the car didn't look the sort to have four-wheel drive.
    It was possible. And the light was dying fast. If I wanted to reach my destination, a mere hundred yards away up this canyon, I'd better go.
    I turned and headed for the waterfall.

 
    TWO
    Twenty minutes later, when I got back to the meadow, it was almost dark and the car was still there. Knowing where to look was the only thing that