Forbidden Entry E-Book

Sylvia Nobel

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: A Kendall O'Dell Mystery
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 597

Beschreibung

Intrepid reporter, Kendall O'Dell's vacation plans go up in smoke after the bodies of a young couple are discovered in the snow covered Bradshaw Mountains of Arizona. Evidence suggests an unfortunate accident but then she learns the shocking news. The victim is her best friend's cousin.  Two other questionable deaths in the area lead her to the hidden community of Raven Creek populated by a host of shadowy characters.  She puts her life on the line when her investigation reveals a dangerous and startling secret. 

Leseprobe

Phoenix, ArizonaThis is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Copyright © 2015 by Sylvia Nobel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher.For information, contact Nite Owl Books

2850 E. Camelback Road, #185

Phoenix, Arizona 85016-4311

Phone: [phone]

Fax: [phone]

E-mail: [email protected]

www.niteowlbooks.comISBN 978-0-9839702-4-8Original Cover Photo – Patrick LangeCover Design by

Christy A. Moeller, ATG Productions

Phoenix, ArizonaLibrary of Congress Control Number: 2014954997

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Linda Jackson, Prescott National Forest, District Ranger

Cynthia Barrett, Law Enforcement Ranger, BLM

Dr. Laura C. Fulginiti, PhD, D-ABFA, Forensic Anthropologist, Phoenix, AZ

Harold Linder, Exploration Geologist

Tina Williams, Editorial Services

Donna Jandro, Editorial Services

Jon Young, State Chief Ranger, BLM

Kevin Weldon, Geologist, Prescott National Forest

Toby Cook, Assistant Fire Mgt. Officer, Prescott National Forest

Jerry Elian, Fire Prevention Tech, Prescott National Forest

Cathy Cordes

Miner Bob

Kelly Powell, Manager, Bumble Bee Ranch

Tom & Lynn Miller, G & S Gravel, Inc. Mayer, AZ

Bradshaw Mountain Guest Ranch, Crown King, AZ

Gary Mackey, Dobson Plant Manager, Mesa, AZ

Manny Mungaray, Plant Manager, Arizona Metro Mix

Patrick Lange, Cover Photo

Taryn Holman

Teah Anders

Lee Ann Sharpe

Kelly Scott-Olson and Christy A. Moeller, ATG Productions, Phoenix, AZMy husband, Jerry C. Williams, for his patience, support and countless hours spent accompanying me on my research trips around the beautiful state of Arizona.

To my Loving Family, Cherished Friends and Devoted Fans

Thank you for your continuing encouragement, patience and support

Dedicated to the memory of: Elizabeth Bruening Lewis

Mentor, treasured friend, #1 cheerleader

CHAPTER

1

Energetic music thumped from the speakers, fueling my already upbeat mood. I pressed the accelerator of my spanking-new, lime green Jeep a little harder, relishing the instantaneous response. Oh yeah. Sweet. Cruising along the two-lane road that sliced through the cactus-strewn landscape, I sipped hot vanilla-laced coffee and marveled at the sight of the vast desert panorama enveloped in a thick layer of ground fog—a rare occurrence that added an interesting dimension to the ordinarily parched Arizona topography. A shadowy platoon of moisture-plumped saguaro cactus stood at attention alongside the road, accentuating the eerie scene. Awesome.

But I knew it wouldn’t last long. According to the local weather forecast, it was slated to be another picture-perfect day with afternoon temperatures climbing to the low-seventies. Having spent the first twenty-eight winters of my life in damp, chilly Pennsylvania, I was still getting accustomed to flowers blooming, green grass and the luxury of sunbathing outdoors in the middle of December. Hard to believe nine months had already passed since I’d been flattened by acute asthma, dumped by my fiancé, then made the agonizing decision to quit my job at the Philadelphia Inquirer and head west to the small town of Castle Valley. To say there had been a lot of changes in my life would be the understatement of the century. But happily I had a new job, a new love, and the scorching Arizona heat had apparently baked away the majority of my debilitating symptoms, although extreme stress or a preponderance of cigarette smoke would sometimes set me off again.

I cracked the window slightly and inhaled the rain-cleansed air saturated with the rich aroma of damp earth, creosote and greasewood. How great was this? The epic storm that had pounded Arizona for six days had finally blown away during the night. Even though I’d enjoyed the welcome rainfall and even a few snow flurries, my prayers for clear weather had been answered. At least for the next few days. The ten-day forecast called for another Pacific storm to move in, but I consoled myself with the fact that there was a chance it could be wrong. I’d been looking forward to this particular day for months. I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. So far, so good.

I glanced eastward at the snow-covered ridgeline and drew in a breath of sheer delight. Pastel pink clouds, crisscrossed by brilliant streaks of magenta jet contrails, stood out in sharp relief against the pale turquoise light of dawn. Mesmerizing! With difficulty, I dragged my gaze away to refocus on the road, accelerating past a slow-moving cattle truck, one of the few vehicles I’d encountered since leaving home. But then, how much traffic would there be on a Thursday morning? I’d checked road conditions several times online and made the decision to avoid what seemed to be perpetual road construction on the I-17 freeway. No sense getting caught in that annoying snarl of congestion if I could avoid it. No. Not today. My schedule was too full to risk even the slightest delay. I’d be smart and take surface streets. At this rate I’d easily make it to Phoenix by nine o’clock, have a couple of hours to complete my ‘to-do’ list from Ginger, meet my friend Fritzy for lunch and still make it to the airport in plenty of time to pick up my parents and younger brother, Sean. Things were finally going my way and I was determined that, for once, everything would go according to plan.

My pulse ramped up again at the thought of actually seeing my family in the flesh, instead of merely Internet FaceTime. What would they think of my new home? I could hardly wait to show off the majestic beauty of Arizona’s deserts, mountains and red-rock canyons. But, best of all would be having them and all my newfound friends gathered to celebrate my engagement to Tally. Or, as Ginger constantly reminded me, ‘Dumplin’ you’ve nabbed yourself the finest lookin’ stud in the whole dang state!’ And she was right. Envisioning Tally’s sharply-chiseled features, serious brown eyes and the impressive picture he presented sitting tall and lean in the saddle as he galloped across the countryside on one of his prize Appaloosa horses, sparked a pleasurable tingle. But there was a flip side to my euphoria. What would my family think of this steadfast, pragmatic rancher who, at times, seemed to personify my polar opposite? I felt sure Tally and my dad would hit it off famously, but doubted my mother’s reaction would be as enthusiastic. From day one she’d been critical of my choice to remain in Arizona and marry, as she often derisively remarked, ‘a backwoods middle-aged cowboy.’ Never mind that he owned the Starfire Ranch, one of the largest cattle and horse ranches in the state. No, she still had her heart set on me returning to cosmopolitan Philadelphia to reconcile with my former boss, mentor and fiancé, Grant Jamerson, who also happened to be the son of her new best friend, Phyllis. To my mother’s credit, she had devoted a significant amount of time and energy planning a grand wedding for us only to see her dreams go down the tubes. I felt confident that once she’d met Tally, he would win her over, but my stomach shrank when I visualized my family’s first encounter with his aggravating mother. Oh boy. What would they think of Ruth Talverson, a ditsy, pill-popping, chain-smoking emotional and mental basket case if there ever was one? Not wishing to add fuel to the fires of my mother’s long list of objections to Tally, I had not shared with them just how off-the-wall she could be sometimes, but in retrospect, perhaps I should have. With luck, maybe she’d be in a mellow frame of mind while they were here. One could only hope.

My cell and car phone rang simultaneously and I glanced at the screen on the dashboard. Curious. Why would Ginger be calling me at the crack of dawn? I pressed the TALK button on the steering wheel. “Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“That you, Sugar?”

“Yep.”

“Yep? I swear, the longer you hang around Tally, the more you’re gittin’ to sound like him.”

Tally was known as a man of few words, unlike me, and most certainly a galaxy removed from Ginger’s ultra-chatterbox persona. “What’s up, girlfriend?”

“Oh, I just wanted to add one or two things to the list.” Odd. Her voice sounded lackluster, totally devoid of its usual vitality.

“What are you doing at the office so early?” I asked, banking into a series of gentle hairpin turns.

“Gittin’ a jump on the day.” She exhaled a long, vocal yawn. “Mercy me, I’m as tired as an ol’ yeller dog on a hot summer day.”

I loved her colorful Texas idioms. “How come? It’s pretty early for that.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Finally gave up tryin’ and figured I might as well get my butt in here and catch up on some of this here filing I been putting off for the past couple of months.”

More like a year, I thought, considering the sizeable tower of folders piled on the credenza behind her desk. I slowed and splashed through a mud puddle spanning the dip in the road. A lot of good it had done to wash the Jeep. “So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Because Aunt Marcelene phoned me kinda late last night and I...”

I cut in, “Speaking of your lovely and generous aunt, I owe her big time for arranging such a super deal on the rooms for my family.” Recently remodeled, the Desert Sky Motel reflected the true charm of the Old West. I loved the heavy, rough-hewn furniture, cowboy art and colorful patchwork quilts complementing each four-poster bed.

“Yeah, she’s a peach, ain’t she?”

“She sure is.” I had to admire the woman’s tenacity. She’d had a rough year after losing her husband to cancer. She had busied herself restoring the formerly shabby motel as well as the cottage next door where she lived with her daughter, Jenessa, a talented young pianist who was scheduled to play at our engagement party.

Silence. And more silence. Very un-Ginger like. “Okay. So, why’d Marcelene call you so late?”

“She’s worried sick about Jenessa. She was bawlin’ her head off and she got me so riled up I got to bawlin’ with her.”

“What about Jenessa?”

“She and Nathan, that new boyfriend of hers, they took off on a campin’ trip ten or eleven days ago and shoulda been back day before yesterday. They ain’t showed up yet and no one’s heard word one from them.”

“Well…the weather has been pretty awful. Did she call the sheriff’s office to report them missing?”

“I think so. But…they’re both real experienced hikers and they had plenty of supplies. There’s just no good reason they ain’t home yet.” Ginger’s voice quavered slightly and I grew uneasy. Her account sounded uncannily similar to the story I’d unearthed less than a month ago regarding a local judge. He’d disappeared while hunting in the midst of the biggest November snowstorm the state had experienced in a decade. The subsequent discovery of his mutilated body had horrified the community. But even more bizarre was the judge’s unexpected connection to Tally’s family and the tragic consequences that followed. I reassured myself with the knowledge that hikers were constantly getting lost in the Arizona wilderness for a host of reasons, so I refrained from voicing my misgivings. “If they’re seasoned hikers, they’re probably fine. But, I hope they weren’t camping above the six-thousand-foot-level or they might be stranded in the snow.”

“I know,” she answered, her tone hollow, despondent. “Aunt Marcelene said Jenessa told her they was headin’ out into the boonies to camp someplace way back yonder in the mountains for a couple of days and then they planned to rent quads in Crown King and go exploring.”

During one of our statewide sightseeing trips, Tally had driven me to the old mining town situated high in the Bradshaw Mountains. The sometimes deeply rutted dirt road, fashioned from the remains of the old railroad bed, zigzagged its way straight up the mountainside. It had been a rather harrowing journey along a road replete with dizzying switchbacks tracking above sheer cliffs, along with stomach-dropping views and few guardrails. I remember feeling a huge rush of relief when we finally arrived at the Crown King Saloon located in the center of the isolated forest community. “Well,” I said with forced cheerfulness, “looks like it’s going to be a beautiful, clear day. Hopefully they’ll be searching for them by air, so try to stay optimistic.”

“I’ll try.” Before hanging up, she added two additional items to my list of things to pick up at the party store. Sad. I’d never heard Ginger sound so grim, her usual effervescent personality and infectious giggle glaringly absent.

Her obvious distress dampened my spirits, but then I thought of how blessed I was to have found a jewel of a friend like Ginger King. Not more than two minutes had elapsed from the first time she’d heard the news that Tally kissed me until my fun-loving friend, who had become like the sister I never had, began planning our nuptials. She’d enthusiastically made it her mission in life to make sure my engagement party and subsequent wedding would be the biggest social events in the history of Castle Valley. Good thing. Having survived a first brief, ill-fated marriage, I’d have just as soon skipped all the fuss and eloped to Las Vegas. But she wouldn’t hear of it and insisted on handling all of the details.

When the first fiery rays of the rising sun streamed over the rough spine of the mountain range, I grabbed for my sunglasses. Arizona’s dramatic sunrises and sunsets never ceased to evoke within me a feeling of awe. Within minutes the landscape was awash in shimmering light, transforming the ghostly silhouettes of saguaro cactus into glorious golden pillars. Ever so slowly, the radiant glow slid across the rolling hills, banishing the mist and chasing the shadows from the rocky crevices.

Forty minutes later, I zoomed across the freeway overpass, joining the cavalcade of cars heading towards metropolitan Phoenix. Even though traffic slowed at times, it was nothing compared to the miles long backup choking the Interstate construction zone. I congratulated myself on the decision to avoid it, only to have my triumphant mood squashed a mere three miles further. My heart dropped at the sight of the orange and white highway markers. Not today, please! I slowed to a crawl and then a complete stop. Crap. I gripped the steering wheel. “Un-friggin’-believable!” Go. Stop. Move a few feet. Stop. I drummed my fingers and strained to see beyond the seemingly endless procession of vehicles. Feeling trapped and helpless, I forced myself to breathe deeply. Temper, hold your temper, O’Dell.

Hopefully, it was just a temporary delay. Okay! We were moving! I edged forward a few feet, then several more, but traveled no faster than five miles an hour. The irony of the situation hit me as I drifted past a sign indicating the recommended speed limit of 55. “I wish!” I glanced at the clock again and did some swift mental calculations. If I continued the rate of five to ten miles per hour, it would take me…what, five or six more hours to reach Phoenix? That would ruin the entire day—no shopping, no lunch with Fritzy and my family would be left stranded at the airport.

Fidgeting restlessly in my seat, I checked out the traffic alert apps on my phone, but none confirmed the backup. After watching several bicyclists in brightly colored gear glide past, I growled, “Damn it!” and opened the door. I stood on the running board and peered into the distance, trying to make out what could possibly have traffic tied up to this degree but couldn’t see anything but a sea of cars and trucks ahead. Several other people had exited their vehicles and were milling about pointing, talking, walking their dogs. With a loud groan, I slumped into the driver’s seat and reached for my phone to dial Fritzy’s work number. I’d been looking forward to our meeting for two weeks and hated to disappoint her, but unless a miracle happened, lunch looked like a wash at this point. Oh wait. We were moving again. Perhaps there was still hope. I waited to hit the call button and reached the thrilling speed of fifteen miles per hour before I had to slam on the brakes again. Craning my neck, I spotted a signalman ahead with one of those SLOW/STOP signs in hand. A dump truck was backed into the middle of the road where half a dozen workmen stood leaning on their shovels. How long was this going to take? It appeared that my well-laid plans for the day were going up in smoke. “Oh, come on!” I finally shouted. “Fix the stupid road tomorrow!”

Should I make a U-turn and head back towards the freeway? Would I be trading one traffic backup for another? I spotted a second group of bicyclists heading towards me, this time from the opposite direction. I shouted out the open window as they approached. “Hey! Got any idea what’s going on up ahead?”

One of the riders slowed, thumbed behind him and shouted, “Rollover crash! Cave Creek Road intersection…medical chopper on the way.”

Oh. So it wasn’t just road construction. So much for the phone app. “Thanks!” I watched wistfully as the bikers raced on by, free as the flock of birds flying overhead. I hit the call button on my phone. No response. What? Then I noticed No Service blinking back at me. Groaning, I laid my forehead against the steering wheel. I waited another interminable amount of time and had just made the decision to make the U-turn and deal with the freeway, when I heard the thumping whir of helicopter blades. The chopper flew in low and descended to the ground a mile or so ahead. At that moment it struck me that someone or perhaps more than one person must be gravely injured or worse. And as that realization sunk in my agitation diminished. So I was going to be a little late. How lucky was I not to be lying on the ground or trapped in the crushed, twisted remains of my vehicle? So I might not get the place card holders Ginger wanted, or the three-dozen bud vases. So I might miss lunch. I was fine. As I sat there, engine idling, I savored the warmth of the sun on my face and the fragrant breeze shepherding fluffy white clouds across the sapphire sky. All a matter of perception, I guess. A half hour later when the chopper rose into the air, speeding southeast towards Phoenix, traffic began inching forward again. All right! I might just make it after all.

The voice message alert on my phone chimed. I tapped the screen and listened to Fritzy’s husky voice, smiling at the nickname she’d given me in third grade. “Hey, Stick, call me when you get this message.”

Was I imagining the somber undertone in her voice? That didn’t sound promising. I dialed her number. “You have reached the office of forensic anthropologist Dr. Nora Fitzgerald Bartoli. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call.”

Dang it. I tapped her number. Two rings later I heard, “Hey there, Stick, how you doing?”

“I’ve been stuck in traffic for over an hour so I’m going to be late for lunch.”

“Don’t sweat it. Turns out I have to cancel anyway.”

My perfect day was swiftly vanishing. “Oh, don’t tell me that! Why?”

“Sorry to back out on such short notice, but I just got a call from the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office. They’ve got a couple of bodies they need me to take a look at and I’m already on the road.”

I tried to stifle my extreme disappointment. “That’s not good news. Where are you headed?”

“Working my way north on I-17 going about ten miles an hour. Traffic is a bitch.”

“Tell me about it. I took the Carefree Highway thinking it would be faster but I ran into road construction plus a bad accident. Smart, huh?”

“I’d have probably done the same thing. Guess we’ll have to hook up at your party. So…what time does your family get in today?”

I looked at the digital clock. “Two-fifteen, but judging how the day has gone so far, I’d better check and see if the flight is on time.”

“You might want to do that. I heard there’s some pretty nasty weather back east.”

“I know. I sure hope it’s nice while they’re here.”

“How long are they staying?” she asked.

“Two weeks.”

“Cool. And you’re going to get that whole time off work?”

“That’s my plan. I’ve got their sightseeing itinerary all mapped out. Saturday we’re going to Prescott for breakfast, lunch in Jerome, Sunday we’ll stop in Flagstaff and then we’ll be on to the Grand Canyon. Tuesday we take a Jeep tour in Monument Valley, Wednesday, Canyon de Chelly, then lunch and sightseeing in Sedona on our way back home on Thursday. After the party, we’ll head to southern Arizona for a few days with the rest of the family.”

“Wow! Ambitious schedule. Sounds like a blast. I’m jealous. I’ve been so darn busy working, there are still a ton of places in Arizona I’ve yet to see. Oh well, someday. Hey, I’m looking forward to reconnecting with your family at the party. It’s been ages.”

“They’re excited about seeing you too.”

“Good.” She paused and added, “Hey, Stick, I’m sorry about cancelling on you.”

“I understand. Where did you say you were going?”

“Northwest of Black Canyon City to a place called Bumble Bee. I’m meeting the sheriff there.”

Bumble Bee. I vaguely remembered passing through the tiny community during the sightseeing trip with Tally. “Can you share any details?”

“Not yet.”

“Off the record?”

A short pause. “I can tell you this much. Early this morning a BLM ranger or a Forest Service ranger, or both, I can’t remember exactly, reported that one of the locals had discovered the bodies of two people somewhere in the Bradshaw Mountains, but I can’t divulge any other details until family has been notified.”

Two people. In the Bradshaws. A pang of uneasiness nudged my gut. Why would the authorities call Fritzy in unless there was something out of the ordinary? “Ah…it wouldn’t happen to be a young man and woman?”

Her ultra-long hesitation was more revealing than her eventual answer. “I…I can’t answer your question at this point.”

“Fritzy,” I asked, unable to subdue my rising sense of urgency, “can you tell me where the bodies were discovered?”

“The sheriff said about a mile from a place called Raven Creek.”

“Where’s that?”

“Don’t know for sure…wait a sec. We’re at a dead stop. Let me look at the map on my navigation system.”

I listened to silence for a least a minute before she murmured, “Um…okay, it looks like Raven Creek is out in the middle of nowhere northwest of Cleator and about ten miles northeast of Crown King.”

As the full significance of her words sunk in, I felt like someone had jammed a fist into my belly. Oh no! My mind and heart did not want to go there but my instincts told me otherwise. What were the odds that the two dead people could be anyone other than Jenessa and Nathan?

CHAPTER

2

The traffic jam finally broke free as I snaked my way into Phoenix along with the thousands of other people who’d been stalled on the road for almost three hours. So far, the day was turning out to be far different than I’d imagined and I had to fight a sensation of gloom. Fritzy’s revelation was too much of a coincidence to ignore. My finger was poised over Ginger’s number, but I hesitated. Don’t put the cart before the horse, my wise grandmother used to tell me. Why upset her and Marcelene needlessly? I had nothing to go on but a hunch, but the uncomfortable feeling persisted. Against my nature, I urged myself to be patient, wait for more information and verification of identity.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the shopping center, found what I needed at the party store, made a quick lunch stop and then checked the plane’s arrival time on my phone. Fortunately for me, bad weather had delayed the flight from Pittsburgh, so I had a little breathing room. As usual, Sky Harbor International Airport was an annoying zoo of traffic. I circled the parking garage several times until I eventually snagged a space on the 4th floor. Then, it took me another fifteen minutes to get to the terminal where the “arrived” sign for their flight number blinked. I sighed with relief. Even with the three-hour traffic delay, I’d made it.

As the passengers flooded into the terminal, I searched faces until I finally spotted my mother holding a carry-on bag in one hand, her purse and heavy winter coat in the other. I could tell by her sour expression as she emerged from the gate area that something was bugging her. The corresponding smirk on my brother’s face conveyed the initial impression that he’d most likely been the cause of her aggravation. But knowing how hard-headed they both were—we all were for that matter—and knowing how hypercritical my mother could sometimes be, I felt instant sympathy for my younger brother. Apparently the old adage, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ is true, because I was genuinely happy to see them. I loved them all fiercely, even with their numerous imperfections, of which I certainly was not exempt. My mother turned to my brother, Sean, mouthed something I could not hear and his expression turned sullen. What in the world was going on? My initial curiosity as to the cause of their disagreement faded at the first glimpse of my father’s ruddy face and a wave of elation washed over me. But, my joyful anticipation turned to dismay when I noticed the crutches and the black boot on his right foot. I rushed towards him.

“Kendall!” My mother intercepted and enfolded me in one of her not overly effusive embraces. “It’s been such a long time!”

“I know!” I said, hugging her back before she suddenly pushed me to arm’s length.

“Look at you!” she marveled with a concerned frown. “You are so tan. And you have freckles on your nose. You’re getting way too much sun. That is not good for your skin. Aren’t you wearing any sunscreen?” Before I could respond, she concluded with, “You must take better care of your skin or your face will wrinkle like an old prune.”

I bit back a testy rejoinder. How typical of her to greet me with a disapproving remark. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.” In direct contrast, my family looked pale. My dad always joked that her blue-blooded English ancestry was the basis for her cool façade and the older I got, the more merit his theory seemed to hold. She had always been less approachable than my dad and definitely lacked the fiery Irish disposition that I inherited from the O’Dell side of the family.

“Let me see the ring.” She grabbed my left hand, her immediate expression of disenchantment predictable and mildly amusing. “Oh my. It looked so much bigger in the photos you sent.” A raised brow accompanied her thin-lipped smile and it was hard to miss the trace of sarcasm in her critique.

I knew she was comparing it to the enormous and pretentious ring Grant had bought for me. “Mom, it’s two-carats. What do you want?”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s fine. And as long as you’re not disappointed, I guess that’s all that counts,” she responded airily. Her calculated barb made me feel right at home and I cautioned myself against giving it right back to her. “So, I’m assuming you’ve set the wedding date?” she inquired, still scrutinizing my ring.

“Not yet. Let’s all get through this engagement party first, okay? But, just so you know, it will probably be within a year.”

“Hey, Kenny.” Sean intervened, flashing me a conspiratorial grin before wrapping me in a bear hug, which I returned whole-heartedly. In the nine months since I’d seen him last, he looked more mature, seemed leaner and his once lush strawberry blond hair was cropped close to his head. It was also hard to miss the new skull and crossbones tattoo on his neck. By the time we pulled apart, my dad had hobbled up beside us.

“There’s my pretty Pumpkin!” His familiar sunny smile seemed to light up the entire waiting area and as I slid my arms around his waist he crushed me to his chest with one arm. It was a bit awkward with the crutches clattering in my ears. Sudden tears blurred my vision as I realized just how much I had missed my family, and particularly my dad these past nine months. I squeezed him hard and drew back, meeting his sea-green eyes. “Okay, Dad, what happened to your foot and why didn’t someone tell me?”

He exchanged a meaningful glance with my mother who answered for him with a sniff of disdain. “Your father didn’t want to worry you. Two days ago he decided to be a hero and chase after that silly old dog. I thought we were going to have to cancel our trip.”

My brother chimed in, “Dad took one hell of a header on a patch of ice trying to keep Bozwell from getting flattened by the garbage truck.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m not here. I can speak for myself,” my dad griped, eyeing them both with irritation. “I fractured my ankle not my mouth.” Wow. They all seemed a bit grouchy today. Sean’s reaction to my dad’s outburst was to give him an indifferent shrug and insert his ear buds, effectively tuning him out while my mother fussed needlessly with her coat. Turning back to me, my dad explained, “Poor old thing is almost deaf and blind now. I wasn’t going to just stand there and do nothing.”

Nope, that was not his style. I leveled him a look of sheer adoration. “Way to go, Dad!” Laughing, we exchanged a high five and then I asked, “How long do you have to wear that thing?” I nodded at his booted foot while linking my elbow through his, feeling grateful to once again be included in the give and take banter of my much-missed family circle. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It is. Doctor said another six weeks or so, but I wasn’t about to let this stop me from seeing you.”

“Oh, boy. I’m guessing the walking tours and the trail ride I had planned for you are out of the question.”

“Not at all,” he firmly insisted. “It’s just a fracture. I’m up for just about anything unless you have hiking the Grand Canyon as part of our itinerary.”

I matched his conspiratorial grin, but caught his grimace when he put weight on his foot. “Dad, are you in a lot of pain? Do you want me to get a wheelchair for you? It might make it easier to get to the car. It’s a pretty long walk to baggage claim.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be babied. I’m not going to let this get me down. Lead the way.” He clomped along faster, but couldn’t quite hide the look of discomfort in his eyes. Yep. He was just as stubborn as me and I knew he’d tough it out even if he was in screaming agony.

I caught my mother’s glance of resignation and gave my brother a wink. Nothing much had changed. At least that’s what I thought at that moment.

By the time we reached the baggage claim area, my dad’s face was brick red and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. I didn’t want to hurt his pride, but insisted that he sit down and rest while I went to get the Jeep and drive it to the closest exit. It kind of worried me that he didn’t protest too much and I experienced a twinge of guilt knowing he’d just flown 3000 miles to see me when he probably should have stayed at home to recuperate. My heart also ached a little to notice that both my parents seemed to have suddenly aged. The lines on my mother’s oval face appeared deeper, my dad’s red hair looked thinner and a touch more faded than I remembered.

I pulled the car keys from my purse and turned to leave when my brother stepped to my side. “Wait up. I’ll go with you.”

“What?” My mother slid him a withering glare. “You’re going to leave me here to handle all this luggage by myself? That’s so typical of your selfish, irresponsible behavior.”

His lips hardened and I could tell he was stifling a rude retort. “I’ll be back to get it. Just lay off me for a few minutes, will you?”

Whoa. What the hell was going on between these two? Puzzled, my gaze flitted between them until my mother turned her back to him. “Let’s go.” Sean’s tone was clipped.

I hesitated in the ensuing silence. Neither of them offered an explanation for their ultra-touchy exchange. I was tempted to demand an explanation right then and there, but decided against escalating the argument inside the terminal. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said, unable to miss the look of weary forbearance shadowing my dad’s face.

As we weaved our way through the throngs of travelers crowding the terminal, Sean was furiously texting someone on his phone. “Everything okay?” I asked after he jammed the phone into his jeans pocket.

A simultaneous scowl and shrug. “Not really. My girlfriend’s turned into a real bitch.”

I frowned. “You mean Robin? I heard she’s really sweet.”

“Used to be. But, I’m tired of her bullshit and I’m gonna dump her when I get back home.”

His pronouncement puzzled me. According to my mother, the young woman was pleasant, attractive and serious about her college career. I waited a few seconds to see if he’d elaborate, but he didn’t. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not.”

He fell silent and several minutes passed before I caught his eye. “Let me guess. It’s not so much that you wanted to visit with me as you wanted to get away from Mom, right?”

His faint smile looked a tad sheepish. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah.” I said nothing else until we reached the elevators. I punched the button and then turned to meet my brother’s hazel eyes. “So, do you want to tell me what’s going on between you two? You could have cut the tension with a really dull butter knife.”

He looked away for a few seconds and then stared at the floor, fidgeting. “Oh, you know how she is. Always on my ass about something.”

“Something? Like what?” Considering their hostile behavior towards one another, his vague answer didn’t fly with me.

The elevator chimed its arrival and when several other people crowded in with us, our conversation ended. Everyone rode in the usual strained elevator silence, but when we stepped into the parking garage, I put a restraining hand on his arm. “Sean, level with me. What’s going on?”

He hesitated for extended seconds, his gaze guarded. “Okay, well…I guess I messed up a little.”

“What do you mean, ‘messed up a little’?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I kind of got busted last week for selling pot to an undercover cop. No biggie.” A defensive grin accompanied his protracted shrug.

“No biggie?” I gawked at him. “What the hell were you thinking? You should know better than to pull a stupid stunt like that!”

A dramatic eye roll. “Oh, man! You sound just like Mom and Dad. I know what you’re thinking. Here he goes again. Sean is always a disappointment, such a loser. It really pisses me off to hear them constantly comparing me to you and Pat.” His voice dripped with resentment. “Patrick’s got a great-paying job, Patrick’s got a big, honkin’ house, Patrick’s married with two perfect kids, look how smart, ambitious and successful Kendall is, blah, blah, blah. Why can’t you be more like them? Why can’t you make something of yourself? I’m sick of hearing it!”

I drew back, stunned by his bitter sarcasm. “Sean, you’re twenty-five years old, not sixteen. You do understand what you did was wrong?” When he didn’t answer, I continued with, “Last time I checked, dealing drugs was against the law, so don’t try to lay this off on me and Pat.” I wanted to add that he should also be ashamed of himself for what had to be hugely embarrassing to our parents. I was quite familiar with how lightning-quick news travels in small towns.

He scrunched his face unattractively. “Well, it’s a dumb law. And I don’t need a third lecture from you. Just chill out, okay?”

“Chill out? Seriously? You knowingly commit a felony and I’m supposed to be fine with it? Well, I’m not.” I struggled to control my rising temper. “Frankly, I’m surprised at you. Have you forgotten all the misery Aunt Alyce caused the family?” I asked, referring to my mother’s younger sister. “Have you forgotten the devastating results of her constant drinking and pill popping? Her marriage breaking up, all of her trips in and out of rehab? How screwed up our cousins are now because of her? I haven’t forgotten the trail of carnage she left behind and vowed I’d never be like her.”

“Well, aren’t you a Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.”

My anger flared hotter. “I’d rather be known as that than a low-life drug dealer.”

“I’m not a drug dealer!” he responded with a snarl. “I was in a bind and needed a little quick cash, that’s all.”

“Whatever.”

“You know what your problem is?”

I flashed him a look of disbelief. “What my problem is?”

“You’re still living in the Dark Ages. Look, Mom and Dad are old school. I get that, but I thought you’d be more enlightened,” he griped, poking my shoulder painfully with one finger. “Smoking a little dope isn’t the same thing as getting hammered. It’s not harmful and it’s not addictive.”

More irritated than ever, I shoved his hand away. “I’m hardly in the Dark Ages, little brother. I’ve read enough about this subject to know that we’re not dealing with your grandmother’s pot. The stuff being grown now is way stronger and it can become addictive…”

“Too bad we can’t all be as smart as you think you are,” he cut in, looking genuinely peeved. “Sorry, but you don’t have a clue as to what you’re talking about.”

The much-anticipated visit was off to a poor start. I forced myself to calm down. “Okay. Truce. So, what’s going to happen to you now?”

“I dunno. Dad posted my bail and got me a lawyer. I guess I’ll go to court and probably just get probation ’cause it’s my first offense.” His dismissive, unremorseful attitude conveyed that his arrest for dealing drugs was on par with jaywalking. “Me personally? I don’t think smoking a little bud is any worse than sucking on a cigarette or having a couple of brewskis. You’re all making way too big of a deal out of this. All my friends get high.”

I pressed the remote and unlocked the car. “Maybe you should get some new friends.”

He stared at me, his expression cynical. “Come on, Kenny, get with it. Are you telling me that you never tried a little weed? Not even once?”

The way he said it made me feel like I was fifty years older than him instead of five. “Apparently I’m not as cool and hip as you are or you think you are, but no, I never really felt the need to get into the drug scene, cover myself with tattoos, pierce my tongue or wear a nose ring for that matter.”

He stared at me like I’d just landed from another galaxy and I stared back at him as if he had. “I got news for you, Sis. I’ve seen you throw back a few drinks in your time and I’ll tell you what, booze can have far worse consequences than getting high. I’ve been helping out a buddy who owns a bar and believe me, I’ve seen some pretty nasty shit go down there.”

“I can’t argue with that. I’m not defending any kind of substance abuse. If someone gets tanked and starts a knife fight, beats their kids or drives drunk and injures or kills someone, I’m with you, but the last I heard it wasn’t against the law to have a glass of wine.” I reached for the door handle.

“Oooh, check out these wheels,” he crooned with an approving nod at my iridescent, lime green Jeep. “Makes a statement. It’s a given nobody is going to miss seeing you in this color. Cool choice.”

“Thanks.”

“Four-wheel drive?”

“Of course. It makes it a lot easier to maneuver the rough back roads I have to travel sometimes.”

He nodded. “It looks like something an Arizona girl would own.”

“Thanks. I love her.”

“Her?” he asked, cracking an impish smile.

“Yeah, I call her Peppy, because she really is compared to my old Volvo.”

We slid into the seats and he inhaled deeply. “Mmmmm. New car smell. Sweet!”

Shifting into reverse, I backed out of the space and could feel his gaze boring into me. I eased down the ramp and turned to meet his questioning eyes. “What?”

“So, you’re not bullshitting me? You got through college and never got high even once? No weed, no coke, no…”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Again, the look of disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Unreal.” He stretched and yawned. “You don’t know what you’re missing. There’s some really outstanding product out there now. Know what I think?”

“What?”

“It should be legal to smoke everywhere like it is in Colorado, Washington and a bunch of other progressive states. I think the whole country is heading in that direction.”

His self-righteous smirk increased my irritation further. “Look, Sean, I guess you’re entitled to your opinion, but I have a different view. I mean, look at what’s going on right here, for heaven’s sake. Illegal drug trafficking is no joke. Arizona is a major smuggling corridor. Hell, they just discovered another elaborate tunnel near Nogales the other day and seized drugs with a street value of more than a million dollars.”

His expression turned smug. “My point exactly. Make all drugs legal, problem solved.” He dusted his hands together. “The government can tax the shit out of it and make a bundle of money. Everybody’s happy.”

“I doubt it would be that simple.”

“There are tons of people who think like me. What’s your solution?”

I shook my head. “I honestly don’t have the answer, but I do know we’ve got serious issues here with the criminal drug cartels operating right across the border and spilling into Arizona complete with kidnappings, murders and ruined families as a result.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but then said, “Well, on the bright side, I read that the good citizens of Arizona are actually more open-minded than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. The medical marijuana law that passed here.”

“That’s true.”

“So, what do you think of it?” Before I could answer he tacked on, “Wait, don’t tell me. I’m guessing you’re against people with cancer and glaucoma, anxiety and chronic pain being able to get a little pot to help make them feel better.”

He was obviously trying to bait me. “You can drop the snarky attitude. Did I say that? Evidently you didn’t read the articles I’ve written on this subject where I present both sides. They’re online, you know.”

“Sorry. Missed ‘em. Been kinda busy.”

“Apparently,” I answered him dryly. “Anyway, my point is, the medical community is miles apart on how effective the program is and the jury is still out on how workable it’s actually going to be. In fact, problems have already developed. Over sixty thousand medical marijuana cards have been issued and they’ve discovered that a fair number of these card holders are getting their prescribed ounces from the dispensaries and then selling it for profit on the street, not to mention that the Feds are raiding dispensaries in other states as we speak because it’s contradictory to the Controlled Substances Act. And on top of that, now small children are getting ahold of it and ending up in the emergency room, so there’s a movement on to have the law repealed.”

“Well then, those people have their heads up their asses. It’s just a plant for crissake! It should be legal the same as booze and cigarettes, only at least cannabis has proven medical benefits. Lots of other countries realize this and are now growing it for profit.”

I felt like I was talking to the wall. “Sean, the majority of medical practitioners I quoted in my piece question that assertion and also suggest that marijuana is considered a gateway drug to the more dangerous ones like heroin, cocaine, meth and…”

He cut me off with a harsh, “That is so totally bogus!”

His defensive stance roused my suspicions. “Is it?”

Red-faced, he glared at me for several seconds, then declared earnestly, “Here’s the deal. I don’t think government belongs in the business of regulating drugs or regulating me or you in any way, shape, matter or form.” He folded his arms and added matter-of-factly, “I guess if you want to stick a label on me, you could call me a Libertarian.”

That didn’t surprise me. He’d always been a free spirit. “Reality check, Sean. Until drugs are legalized, keep in mind that right now, today, it’s still against Federal law in most states to be in possession, use and certainly to be dealing drugs. Got it?”

“Oh, cut me a freakin’ break, will you? I totally thought you’d be more cool about this.” His petulant expression reminded me of how he’d been as a kid: rebellious, adventurous, determined to always have his own way. A problem child. A difficult child. He’d gotten into minor scrapes as far back as I could remember, but his pranks and bad behavior escalated as he got older. My parents had been heartsick when he’d been expelled for two weeks his junior year in high school for verbally challenging one of his teachers and then being accused of shoplifting along with some of his buddies. He’d often been defiant when it came to following rules and he and my parents repeatedly clashed. I remember several times my mother stating with great drama that someday he’d be the death of her.

I circled down the ramp and drove around the terminal to the entrance I calculated was the closet to where my parents were waiting. Turning to Sean, I placed a hand on his left arm as he reached for the door handle. “Maybe we can continue this discussion later when we have more alone time, okay?”

He sighed deeply, staring straight ahead. “Why bother? We’re never going to agree.”

His churlish behavior made it difficult for me to keep my hair-trigger temper at bay. “Hey, don’t take it out on me just because you screwed up. I’m willing to listen to your viewpoint and conversely, maybe you could open up your stubborn-as-a-donkey ears and take a little advice from your older sister.”

He turned back to me. “You guys are so mired in your close-minded opinions you don’t give a shit about mine. You know what? If Mom hadn’t gone through my bag and flushed my weed before we left, I’d be feeling nice and mellow now instead of being stressed out from this shit storm coming down on me.”

“You mean the shit storm you brought on yourself?”

Ignoring me, he said, “Don’t sweat it, Ken. Everything’s cool. Really. You guys are making way too much out of this.” He pushed the door open, slammed it shut and sauntered towards the terminal.

As I watched him step through the sliding door, I had to admit to myself just how uncomfortable I felt about the whole situation as it hit home that a close member of my family was not only a pothead, but had been arrested for selling it. I could only imagine how angry and mortified my parents must be. It disturbed me greatly that Sean seemed so self-absorbed and nonchalant about getting busted. From what I remembered from Pennsylvania law, they were pretty hard on drug dealers and Sean could possibly go to jail. He’d better have a really good lawyer. I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, a slight headache tapping at my temples. My well-laid plans for a perfect day continued to unravel.

CHAPTER

3

In light of the bulky cast on his foot, I decided it would be more comfortable for my dad to sit up front with me, but that meant sequestering my brother and mother together in the back seat. Not a great combination with the family dynamics already strained, but what could I do? After we reshuffled my bags from the party store, got the luggage and crutches crammed into the back of my Jeep and everyone was seated, I noted the time. There were only three hours of daylight remaining at best and I was already running behind my carefully calculated sightseeing schedule. I made an executive decision. The tour of the greater Phoenix area would have to wait if I was going to fulfill my promise to Morton Tuggs, my co-editor and longtime friend of my father. He’d insisted that I bring the family by for a quick visit to the newspaper office and meet the staff before everyone left. It would be the first time the two men would meet in person for almost twenty years and I suspected it would be an emotional reunion, considering their history of working together as photojournalists during several past military conflicts.

The time had arrived to show off some of Arizona’s breathtaking scenery on the road to Castle Valley. The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun would provide the ideal combination of soft lighting and long shadows necessary to showcase the beauty of the lush Sonoran landscape. As we merged onto the freeway, I pointed west to the impressive cluster of glass-paneled office towers dominating the downtown area and then identified some of the landmark mountain ranges surrounding the Valley of the Sun.

“That one sort of looks like a kneeling camel,” my brother muttered, pointing towards the ridged coral-colored rock formation rising majestically from the desert floor.

I flashed him a grin in the rearview mirror. “Good call. That’s Camelback Mountain. Over there to the right of it are the Papago Buttes, and out there in the distance you can see the McDowell Mountains and Pinnacle Peak.”

“I took an online tour of Phoenix last week, but I gotta say, it’s like night and day being here in person,” Sean remarked with an appreciative nod. “And, hey, I’m lovin’ this weather.”

I couldn’t agree more. Since moving here, I’d grown accustomed to blue sunny skies and found that if it was overcast for more than a day or two, I’d feel mildly depressed.

“I don’t think I’m gonna need this any longer.” Sean tossed his jacket behind him and pressed the button to lower his window. “Whoo hooo! It was snowing like hell when we left Pittsburgh this morning and now look at this! Short sleeves in December!”

Thrilled that he mirrored my sentiments exactly, I darted a hopeful look at my mother to see if she concurred, only to feel a stab of disappointment. I sensed by her distracted, slightly agitated expression that she’d rather not be listening to us chitchat about the weather, but would prefer to finish whatever argument she and Sean had been engaged in on the plane. Even if she was on the losing end of a dispute, she was famous for always getting in the last word and apparently that had not yet happened. Ah yes. Family. Again, I wondered what Tally’s take would be on these opinionated, squabbling people who would soon become part of his family. Lord have mercy.

“Be happy your introduction to Arizona is in December,” I advised Sean, braking for heavy traffic. “Believe me, trying to get accustomed to living in 100-degree-plus temperatures for months on end was no fun. There were a couple of days last summer when I thought I would actually burst into flames!” My announcement brought a roar of laughter from everyone and my stiff shoulders began to relax a little. I’d spent untold hours planning what I hoped would be an interesting, educational and enjoyable visit with them. But it remained to be seen if my hotheaded family, myself included, would be able to maintain a modicum of civility with one another considering all the unresolved issues.

It took another forty minutes to leave behind the mixture of new housing developments, apartment buildings, office parks, strip shopping centers and the ever-present traffic congestion. I breathed a sigh of relief as I took the freeway exit. Within a few miles, traffic thinned and the striking panorama of wide-open desert spread out before us. My dad, who’d said little since we’d left the airport, blew out an appreciative whistle. “Man, this is really something,” he murmured, his admiring gaze traveling back and forth, taking in the eye-catching scenery. “Phoenix has sure grown by leaps and bounds since I was here 25 years ago, but this,” he said, gesturing with his hands, “this is still undeveloped. It’s pristine!”

My chest swelled with pride. “I was hoping you’d love it as much as I do.”

He was right. The combination of infinite blue sky dotted with clouds, rugged, snow-dusted mountain peaks, along with the sprawling tapestry of cactus and native vegetation painted a stunning desert mosaic worthy of an award-winning photo spread.

My dad waved his hand back and forth. “Is this all ranchlands out here?”

“No. Believe it or not, only twelve percent of Arizona is private land.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. What you see out there is a hodgepodge of state trust land, private ranches, BLM land and the rest is national forest. Tally leases thousands of acres from BLM for grazing.”

“What does BLM stand for again?” Sean asked. “I’m blanking on that.”

“Bureau of Land Management,” I answered, accelerating past several motor homes.

My dad nodded. “Interesting. Okay, so I know the tall cactus with the arms is called saguaro, but what are the short ones with all the pads?” he said gesturing out the open window.

“Prickly pear.” I took great pride in pointing out other native flora and fauna to them as we rose in elevation. It was fun playing tour guide as I identified hedgehog and barrel cactus, along with acres of golden teddy bear cholla fields, brittlebush, ocotillo and mesquite, creosote, ironwood and palo verde trees. “Palo verde means green stick in Spanish,” I informed them, savoring the feel of the fragrant desert wind on my face. “Well, Mom,” I asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, “what do you think? Isn’t it gorgeous? Can you believe how green everything looks after all the rain we’ve had?”

She arched a thin blond brow. “Really? You think so?” A delicate shoulder hitch followed. “It looks…I don’t know, sort of brown and dry to me. Not my cup of tea, I’m afraid.” Our eyes locked for a second in the mirror. “I prefer rolling hills and leafy green trees. But,” she tacked on hastily, “if you think it looks pretty, that’s all that matters since you’re the one who has to live in this…desolate looking place.”

True to her contrary nature, she was applying her expert bubble bursting techniques, but I was determined not to let her get under my skin. She’d made no bones about her displeasure regarding my decision to remain in Arizona, so why should I be surprised? And if I were to be honest with myself, hadn’t my first impression of the stark desert landscape been less than enthusiastic?

I flicked a sidelong glance at my dad and caught his perceptive wink. “Come on, Alana,” he said to her over his shoulder, “lighten up. Kendall’s an Arizona girl now so don’t give her a hard time. I’d appreciate it if we could just try to be civil with one another for a little while. After all, we’re here to have a good time with Kendall, meet our new family members and party our socks off!”

“Well, I think the scenery is awesome!” Sean remarked from behind me, pointing eastward towards the serrated, snow-dusted backbone of the imposing Bradshaw range. “There’s certainly nothing like this back home in good ol’ Pennsylvania. Nope. Not even close.”

I noted Sean’s mischievous expression. His deliberately worded remark was obviously designed to reignite mom’s frayed fuse, so I quickly jumped in to diffuse any further escalation of family bickering. “And speaking of that,” I said, tossing a grin back at my mom, “Right now, we’re headed straight to the Castle Valley Sun newspaper office so you can see where I work and meet the gang. After that, I’ll take you to the motel so you can freshen up and then we’ll all go and have dinner at Angelina’s.” My stomach rumbled at the thought of a savory Mexican food meal. My hastily eaten lunch seemed like a distant memory. “And tomorrow Tally is throwing a welcoming barbeque at the Starfire Ranch where you’ll get to meet everybody. Sound like fun?”

“Yes!” my parents answered in unison, while Sean’s “Cool,” sounded distracted. A quick look behind me confirmed that he was busily engaged in texting again.

“Oh, and Mom,” I continued, “Ginger and I are looking forward to hearing your ideas on the engagement party. I’m afraid I haven’t had time to be much help to her, so she’s anxious for your input.”

My final statement appeared to placate her. Almost immediately her pinched facial features relaxed and I was treated to one of her luminous smiles that my dad said had broken many a male heart prior to his arrival on the scene, ‘stealing her away’ from a bevy of suitors, as he liked to tell it. Indeed, photos of their wedding day thirty-five years ago featured a stunningly beautiful couple. Having them all gathered around me, warts and all, made my heart lighter, as if it were pumped full of helium. As soon as my brother Pat arrived with his wife and kids, along with my aunts, uncles and two cousins from Ireland, the family circle would be complete. I could hardly wait.

“And speaking of the party,” my dad said, “didn’t you say that your old friend Nora Fitzgerald will be attending?”

“That’s right. Fritzy, her husband and their little boy.”

“How about that! How’s she doing anyway? It will be great to see her again after what? Fifteen years?”

The mention of her name reawakened my earlier apprehension. I couldn’t help it. The reporter in me was dying to know more. I was itching to call her to see if I could find out something definitive. But, right now, that was impossible. “Yep. We were supposed to have lunch today, but two bodies were discovered this morning on the east side of the Bradshaw Mountains and she got called to the scene,” I said, pointing to the undulating ridgeline to my right.

My dad, ever the curious reporter, cocked his head to one side. “Oh? Tell me more.”

I thought about sharing Ginger’s worst fears, but decided to say nothing until I had confirmation of my suspicions. “She wouldn’t say much.”

“How terrible,” my mother murmured, staring off into the distance.