Slickrock (Gail McCarthy Mystery) Read Free Page B

startled.
    "Dying." He stared straight up at the night sky. "Green fire in their bellies. I couldn't save them. Dying."
    This made no sense to me. "I'll be back," I yelled. "Please. Just hang in there." Then I turned and ran.
    Running through the dark, to the jouncy, jerking beam of the flashlight, running down the trail. I could see the pack station lights ahead of me, across the meadow; they seemed a long way away. I stuck to the trail; I could run faster on the trail than I could through the meadow.
    All I could hear was the thump of my feet, the panting of my breath. Hurry, hurry.
    The lights across the meadow flickered and bounced to the rhythm of my feet, the bob of my head. Faster, a little faster, I urged my body. I kept my eyes on the trail as it flared and faded before me in the flashlight's lurching beam.
    Even as I ran, I planned. I would go straight to the bar; someone would be there, there was a phone there. God, what in hell was that man doing out in the meadow? Why shoot himself there, of all places?
    Hurry, hurry. I was tiring; my breath came in gasps. Find the rhythm, keep breathing, keep running, I chanted to myself. Keep your eyes on the trail, keep moving, keep running.
    I looked up. The pack station was closer. Eyes back on the trail, I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other in a steady rhythm.
    A man with blood all over his shirt front, lying on his back in Deadman Meadow, wanting to die. Had he picked this spot to shoot himself because of the damn name?
    Come on, Gail, I urged myself. Move it a little. Save this guy's life for him.
    I could see the bar, with the long porch across the front of it. Not so far now. God, I was out of breath, though. I was really out of shape.
    Closer, closer, almost there. The meadow was soggy, almost boggy, here; my feet squished and stuck a little. I could feel moisture seeping through my boots.
    No matter. The lights were in front of me, the parking lot, the cars. Gasping for air, I pounded across the dark road-empty of tourists, for once-up the wooden steps, across the porch, and through the open door of the bar.
    Lights, noise, faces, confusion. My eyes struggled to adjust to the bright light; all faces looked my way. And then I saw Lonny.
    Standing at the bar with Ted, I registered. Turning toward me with a look of welcome changing to concern.
    "Gail, what's wrong?"
    He took three fast steps toward me, put his hand on my arm.
    "A man ... shot himself ... still alive ... in the upper meadow." I said it between pants.
    Lonny had never been slow. "Damn. Go get the Jeep," he ordered one of the boys. "Pick us up along the trail. Bring the first-aid kit. We're headed up there." He turned to Ted. "Better call the ambulance, and the sheriff."
    "I think," I gasped, "he's going to need a chopper."
    Ted nodded. "Okay." Then he headed for the phone.
    "Come on, Gail, show me where." Lonny had hold of my arm.
    "He's got a gun," I said.
    "Ernie. " Lonny held out his left hand. Without a word Ernie produced a short shotgun from under the bar and handed it over the counter to Lonny.
    "Okay. Let's go," Lonny said.
    "Okay."
    I started out of the bar, still panting, but a little better for the rest. I could keep going until the Jeep picked us up.
    Lonny had the long stride of a six-foot-plus man, and despite the fact that he walked rather than ran across the parking lot and down the main trail, I had to jog every few steps to keep up.
    Before he'd had time to ask me more than, "So just where is this guy?" we could hear the noise of the Jeep behind us. Headlight glow lit the trail as Jake, one of Ted's crew, pulled the vehicle up beside us.
    As we climbed in, I told Lonny, "Behind some willows at the far end of the upper meadow. His car's out there. Some sort of black sports car."
    I could barely see Lonny's face in the peripheral glow of the headlights; he looked strained and tired. And old, I thought. Well, he was fifty-one. Considerably older than I was. But until recently