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Beads of perspiration popped out on the man’s forehead and his whiskers quivered as he stared at the ID. “Um, sorry. Sorry, ma’am. No disrespect meant. We were just having a little fun.”
Corrie put away the badge. “Fun. Right. Get that goddamned cigar out of my face.”
He sheepishly dropped the cigar to the ground and stepped on it.
“I have some questions for you.”
“Sure, of course.” The man had become so obsequious, so quickly, that Corrie was amused and disgusted at the same time.
“Did a couple of guys come through here a few days ago, driving a late-model brown Ford F-150 pickup? One tall and skinny, the other one shorter and stockier?”
“They did.” He was suddenly willing to talk. “They tore through here like a bat out of hell, and when we ran them to earth the short guy pulled a gun on us and gave us a bunch of bullshit. The tall guy videotaped the whole thing.” He looked positively eager. “They in trouble? You looking for them?”
“When was this?” Corrie asked.
“Three days ago.”
“Time?”
“Afternoon. Around three thirty. What’d they do? I hope you catch those motherfuckers.”
“Tell your people to move their vehicles out of our way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shouted and gestured at the men, who werestanding around looking confused. They climbed into the pickups and moved them off the road.
“Listen up,” said Corrie. “I’m going to let this slide. But if you and your boys harass anyone coming through here again, I’m going to come back for you with some friends—the badge-carrying kind. And we’ll toss you so far up shit creek you’ll find yourself in the rectum of the devil himself. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”
She rolled up her window and the man stepped back, nodding obediently, then turned and began yelling for the men to get back to work.
As Corrie eased the SUV forward, Nora laughed—a laugh with a naughty edge. “That was fun.”
“Yup. Can’t usually take advantage of that kind of thing—but those shitheels deserved it.”
They continued on, the land rising, piñon-juniper scrub giving way to ponderosa forest. The road, already tentative, got rougher and was washed out in places. Finally, as they emerged from the forest, Nora saw a glint: Edison’s truck.
They pulled up alongside it, parked where the road ended. They got out. Corrie went to the truck, peered in the window, and then tried the door.
“Locked.”
Nora circled the truck. “Footprints,” she said.
They shrugged into daypacks containing water, snacks, and a few supplies. Nora waited while Corrie buckled her service weapon into place, then began following the prints over the sandy ground. In less than a mile, they came to the edge of the canyon.
“Looks like they went down along that ridge,” said Nora.
Corrie took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the canyonfloor. “Is that a campsite there, by the river?” She handed them to Nora.
“Sure looks like it.”
Nora started down the slope, watching for loose rocks; Corrie followed close behind.
48
AS THEY HIKEDdown the ridgeline, Nora was able to follow Skip’s and Edison’s footprints. Judging from the deep impressions and frequent gouge marks left in the soft ground, it looked like they had been carrying heavy packs. She wondered if this was evidence that they’d decided to spend a few extra days in the canyon. She hoped so—she’d much prefer learning she and Corrie were on a wild-goose chase and they’d find Skip and his friend camped peacefully in the canyon.
About halfway down the far side, the trees along the ridgeline opened up, giving them a view northward upcanyon. They paused a moment to take it in. It was magnificent: sheer walls of sandstone striped in red and yellow, a lush bottomland of green grass, and groves of old cottonwoods. Many narrow side canyons branched off at various points. The last of the late-July sun flooded the canyon floor and gleamed off the scimitar curves of the river. The wind was picking up, carrying the scent of flowers. As they watched, the sun fell below the rim and a purple gloaming began to form in the valley.