Sierra City

Chapter One

"How the hell should I know?"

Frustration was creeping into her voice and she pulled to the side of the dirt road, tossing her sunglasses on the now dusty dash of her open Jeep. She had half a mind to toss her cell phone there, as well. If there was one thing Chris McKenna hated, it was being lost.

"Goddamn, McKenna, how hard can it be? You're supposed to be an expert at this."

"Don't start with me, Roger. If you'd let me take the main road out of Reno, I would be there by now." She glanced around, her frustration preventing her from enjoying the beauty of the back roads Roger had suggested.

"If you could follow directions, you'd be here by now."

"If you could give directions," she shot back.

"Listen, I think you're on Forest Road seven-thirteen."

"You think?"

"If you continue on, you'll find Forest Road seven-forty. Take it to the left. That'll hook you up with the road you were supposed to be on in the first place, seven-oh-nine."

"You know, Roger," she started, her voice now low and threatening. "It will be very embarrassing if you have to send someone out to look for your new SAR. You're sure of your directions this time?"

"McKenna, one more thing. I think the sign for seven-forty is missing. You'll just have to keep your eye..."

"If you tell me to turn at the big pine on the corner one more time, I'm turning around and going back to fucking Yosemite!" she yelled before disconnecting. This time she did toss the phone on the dash.

She was hot, tired, and dusty. The pleasant drive through the mountains had turned into a fiasco. She should have been there two hours ago. Instead, Roger had her traipsing through the mountains on forest roads without a map.

"A cold beer," she said out loud. She turned off the engine and got out, stretching her arms overhead and popping her sore back. A loud meow brought her around and she stared into Dillon's cage. Her normally passive cat glared at her.

"I know, I know. I promised it would be a short trip." Then she grinned. "Probably gotta pee, huh?" She rummaged into the cooler for a beer, pulling the bottle from under the ice. "Well, you'll have to hold it a little longer."

Taking a long swallow, she sighed, finally allowing the beauty around her to register. By the time she had left the spectacular grandeur of Lake Tahoe behind and traveled into the foothills of the Gold Country, she had been too intent on remembering Roger's directions to pay attention to the scenery. But she had climbed out of the river valley and back into the high country, again surrounded by tall pines and spruce, but not tall enough to block the rugged mountains springing up around her. The Sierra Nevada Range.

She had worked in Yosemite for so long, she thought she had become immune to sights such as this. She realized that her indifference sprung from the constant crowds of people and the increasing crime in the park. There had been little time to enjoy the scenery. Search and Rescue had become a full-time job. That's why she jumped at the opportunity to come to Sierra City. That, and it offered her another chance to work with Roger. He had taken her under his wing in Yellowstone when she had been fresh out of college and had shown her the ins and outs of the Forest Service. She, like most first-timers, knew little about the politics of the Service. She soon grew tired of being a tourist guide and weary of the manual labor expected of the younger rangers. But no matter how hard they all struggled, in the end it all came down to politics and money. It hadn't taken but a few years for her to lose her enthusiasm for the job. That's about the time Search and Rescue was just coming into its own, with the local law enforcement agencies no longer able to handle the demand caused by the explosion of tourists in the parks and National Forests. Volunteer SAR teams had begun to organize, all with good intentions but little money and training. When the Park Service finally began training their own, Chris was one of the first to volunteer. Her training took her from the classroom deep into the backcountry and she finally found what she had been looking for when she joined the Forest Service.

Now, nearly all of the National Parks had full-time Search and Rescue teams, but National Forest Land was still mostly volunteers. Roger had finally persuaded his managers at Lake Tahoe that the Sierra ranger district warranted its own SAR and he had called Chris away from Yosemite, luring her with a promise of uncrowded trails and little or no crime. He didn't have to ask twice.

She finished her beer and tucked the empty bottle back inside the cooler. As she passed Dillon's cage, she stuck a finger inside to scratch his head, then withdrew quickly as he threatened to bite.

"Okay, let's see if we can find the elusive seven-forty so we can get this tiger out of his cage."

She brushed her fingers through her hair and shoved the sunglasses back on before heading along the bumpy road, her frustration over Roger's earlier directions fading.

Forty-five minutes later she pulled in front of the ranger station, a charming log building tucked neatly into the forest. She looked back over her shoulder, the dust just settling back on the dirt road and she watched a large white dog run along the edge toward town. She noticed only a handful of cabins along the road and she supposed the main part of Sierra City was at the other end of town, toward Sacramento.

Chris tried to straighten her wind-blown hair with her fingers, then gave up. She must look a sight and she bent down to look into the side mirror.

"Jesus," she murmured, but there was little she could do about her appearance at this point. She gave Dillon's cage a gentle shake. "Just a little longer, Tiger."

She walked into the ranger station and watched the different groups of tourists milling about. Only a few gave her curious glances and she went to the counter, impatiently tapping her fingers while she waited for the receptionist to finish restocking the brochures.

"May I help you?"

Chris offered her a quick smile then glanced around again, hoping Roger would show his face. Maps and pictures of the local wildlife lined the walls, and both were for sale on a rack in the corner. A topographical map was taped on the counter. It was faded from too many fingers running across its surface, looking for hiking trails and cross-country ski routes. Before Chris could answer, the radio scanner broke with static before a voice came on, calling the county sheriff to a minor traffic accident on Highway 89.

"I'm looking for Roger Hamilton," Chris finally replied.

"I'm sorry, he's out on the trails. Can I help you with something?"

"I'm McKenna... Chris," she said, sticking out her hand. "He's expecting me."

"Oh? The new Search and Rescue? You're the one that got lost," she stated, but gave Chris a firm handshake.

Chris smiled briefly. "His directions left a lot to be desired."

"Well, I'm glad you finally made it. We were all pretty excited to learn we were getting our own SAR. I'm Kay, by the way. I tend to die paperwork around here."

Chris nodded. "Any idea when Roger will be back?"

"No. A group of scouts came out on Monday and we're short-handed, what with Matt being sick. Mr. Hamilton went around to check on them."

"Great. He gets me lost for two hours then bails on me." But she softened her words with a quick smile. "Listen. I'd about kill for a shower. Any idea where I'll be staying?"

"Oh yes. Mr. Hamilton has a cabin rented for you. Pine Ridge Cabins, only about a mile out of town. I'll call for you and let them know you're on the way."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

Kay went to her desk to call and Chris walked to the wall, studying the map tacked there. She had been in Yosemite the last five years and knew the trails like the back of her hand. She hated the thought of starting over, but at least she knew Roger. He would make it okay. She listened to Kay on the phone, thinking it would be different living in such a small town. She had only worked in National Parks before, where the only full-time residents were Forest Service and the summer concessionaires. Everyone generally went about their own business, all too busy to worry about their neighbors. But here, in this small town, everyone knew everyone else and no doubt they all kept tabs on each other.

"You're all set, Chris. Ruth has your cabin all cleaned and ready. Keep going towards town and turn right on Spruce. It's well before you get into town. The office is about a mile down that road. Ruth will give you directions from there."

"Thanks so much. I'll be back later to check in with Roger."

Following Kay's directions, Chris found Spruce Street easily, thinking it was aptly named as the boughs of the trees covered the road, blocking out the sun in places. She pulled in at the first road, a sign painted red telling her it was the office. Before she could get out, a tiny gray-haired woman opened the door and came out to meet her.

"You must be the new ranger," she stated, offering her hand.

"Search and Rescue, actually," Chris corrected. She was surprised at the firmness of the woman's handshake.

"Oh, well, same thing," the woman said in a singsong voice. "I'm Mary Ruth Henninger. Some call me just Ruth, though." She turned and headed back inside as fast as she had come out. "Come along," she added, motioning for Chris to follow as she glided up the steps.

Chris followed the old woman inside and found herself in the middle of a large kitchen. The smell of cookies baking hit her and there were already two dozen or so cooling on the table.

"Just be a second, honey. Let me get this batch out."

Chris watched as the woman, in one fluid motion, opened the oven, snatched the pan and closed the oven door with one quick kick of her foot. Chris's grin turned into a laugh as the woman took all of ten seconds to add the fresh cookies to the pile already cooling. Chris admired this woman's energy, especially as she suspected her to be in her seventies.

"Mr. Hamilton says you'll be here for awhile and that you would probably like your privacy, so I've given you cabin number eight. It's stuck off by itself with no neighbors in sight. Of course, when the wind blows right, you can hear what's going on at number seven and vice versa," she said, her singsong voice making Chris smile.

"Number eight, huh? Right now, I just want a shower."

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything... nowadays, women are traipsing all over the mountains not giving a hoot about their appearance," she said, hands placed firmly on her tiny hips. "Why, in my day... well, never mind. I know you're in a hurry dear. Linens and towels are collected once a week, Saturday mornings. You're responsible for bringing your own trash to the dumpster. Don't leave it out at the cabin, bears will get it. Mr. Hamilton had your refrigerator stocked with essentials, he said, but I haven't checked on his meaning of that. You know men," she said with a wave. "He also had some firewood delivered for you, but it won't get you anywhere near to winter. Now sign here," she finished, pointing to the form she had been writing on.

Keys dangled before her and Chris took them from weatherworn fingers.

"Thanks."

"It's a lovely cabin, Chris. I can call you Chris?"

"Of course."

"Good. I'm sure you'll feel right at home in no time at all."

Ruth Henninger whisked Chris out the door as quickly as she had pulled her inside, shoving a bag of cookies into her hand as she hurriedly rattled off directions to her cabin.

"Rent's due at the first of each month," she called as Chris started her Jeep.

Chris sat there for a moment, realizing that she had said all of two sentences and yet she felt exhausted. Mary Ruth was nowhere to be seen and for a moment, Chris wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. But the smell of freshly baked cookies said otherwise, so she shrugged and headed on down Spruce a little farther, taking the second left on Pine, then a right on Fir. The winding road simply disappeared into the forest and ended at the driveway of the cabin.

"Private and secluded. Thanks, Roger."

With Dillon's cage in one hand and her cooler in the other, Chris walked to her new home, pleased to find a couple of incense cedars close by. She stopped, stuck her nose into the bark, inhaling deeply, savoring their aromatic scent. She walked around the back, surprised at how cozy it was. A covered deck followed the length of the small cabin and there were two wooden chairs sitting side by side, just waiting for company.

"Okay, Tiger, let's get you out."

Dillon nearly burst from his cage, finding the nearest bare spot to dig and relieve himself.

Chris opened a beer and relaxed for a moment on the steps, watching Dillon as he sniffed his new surroundings. It only took a second for him to shimmy up the small spruce at the corner of the deck. He gingerly climbed from limb to limb, occasionally looking back to make sure Chris hadn't left him.

"You're such a baby," she said. She called him down after a few minutes, though. She needed to unload the Jeep and she desperately wanted a shower. One trip to the Jeep brought in a duffel bag and the box from her bathroom.

The cabin was furnished comfortably, with a table and four chairs separating the kitchen from the living room. A quick inspection of the refrigerator found that Roger had left beer, a bag of chips and a half-full jar of salsa, nothing else.

"Essentials, Roger?"

There was an old sofa and one oversized chair, both facing the windows looking back towards the driveway. The large, functional fireplace was tucked neatly in the corner and two good-sized windows covered the other wall, offering a view of the deck and the forest beyond. Tilting her head, she mentally rearranged the room. She wanted the sofa facing the fireplace.

She was pleased to find a propane heater in the small bedroom. Crowded inside were a regular sized bed and an old, scuffed six-drawer dresser with an equally old mirror hanging over it. The only other furniture in the bedroom was a tall, skinny nightstand with two wicker shelves. The closet was larger than she would have expected and it would hold her limited wardrobe without a problem.

The bathroom had two doors, one off the kitchen and the other through her bedroom. She stuck her head inside and nodded with approval. It looked newly remodeled and where a tub once took up space, a shower was installed and extra shelves for storage lined the wall. Clean linens and towels were folded neatly on one shelf. The sink and mirror were nearly brand new and she glanced at herself, her reflection again indicating her immediate need for a shower.

She stripped where she stood, sweaty T-shirt following dirty shorts and socks. Dillon sat patiently on the toilet seat while she let the warm water wash away nearly four hours of dust. Washing her hair reminded her that she was well past time for a cut. Maybe Roger could recommend someone in tiny Sierra City.

She didn't bother unpacking the few boxes she had squeezed into her Jeep. They lay scattered on the living room floor and she would tend to them this evening. There wasn't a lot anyway, a few personal items, her small portable CD player and some books. She had never been one to collect things, anyway. She had lived in Forest Service housing for so long, moving frequently, it didn't make sense to acquire household items of her own. She brought her summer clothes with her. The winter items were being stored at a friend's place in Yosemite. Chris would either have them shipped or make the drive back to pick them up later on.

She put on clean hiking shorts and a T-shirt and went out on the deck, letting the breeze dry her hair. She leaned on the railing, listening to the bird sounds and the wind moving through the trees and she heard the faint sound of running water. With fluid grace, she hopped over the railing and landed neatly on the ground, long legs carrying her quickly into the forest, searching for the sound of water. She found a small stream, three or four feet across in most places, flowing past her on its way to meet the larger Gold Creek in town, then eventually dumping into one of the many rivers in the area. Probably the Bear River, she thought. A sound to her right brought her around and two chipmunks scurried past, disregarding her as they chased around a large spruce. She grinned. That will keep Dillon busy. He was the only cat she knew that had absolutely no hunting skills. The closest he had come to catching anything was when a hummingbird had flown into a window and lay stunned on the ground. She had scooped the bird up just as Dillon was in mid-pounce, his look of disappointment enough to make her laugh out loud.

She smiled at the memory, not thinking it odd at all that Dillon remained her closest friend after eight years. She looked up at the trees and sighed. No sense getting all sentimental and emotional now. Still wouldn't change the outcome.

She turned and made the return trip to the cabin, pausing beside the deck for a second. It was charming. Nothing like the cabins in Yosemite, built right on top of each other in little clusters. This would be almost like a home, something she hadn't had in years.

Chapter Two

Roger had his back to the door pointing to the large trail map tacked to the wall, two hikers listening intently. Chris nodded at Kay, then walked to the counter to listen.

"Once you come to the first fork, Ridge Trail veers to the left. It's very steep and I wouldn't recommend it this late in the day. Take the Lake Trail cutoff. It's only about two miles round trip, easy walking and you'll end up right back at the trailhead, provided you don't miss the turn."

Chris smiled. She hadn't seen Roger in nearly ten years and they had spoken only a handful of times over those years, but it was as if no time had passed at all. His hair was still sandy blond, kept a little too long. His moustache still blended with a few days' stubble and he was still shorter than she was.

As if sensing her presence, he turned, surprise evident in his eyes.

"McKenna?"

"Hello, Roger," she drawled, offering him her hand. He took it, then grabbed her in a bear hug.

"My God, McKenna, you look great!"

"Well, finally lost my baby fat," she said, patting her flat stomach. When she had known Roger, she had been at least fifteen pounds heavier. He, too, looked to be in great shape.

"What happened to your beer gut?"

"Took up jogging, if you can believe that," he said and they laughed. "Damn good to see you, McKenna. Glad I didn't have to call out the volunteer SAR team to find you."

"Your directions sucked, Roger."

"Just testing your tracking skills, McKenna." He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder and led her behind the counter. "Come on back. Let's catch up a bit. Kay told me you came by and she sent you to the cabin."

"I needed a shower. And Roger, the cabin is great. Thanks." She took the seat he motioned her to in front of his desk.

"Small, but private. I thought you'd like it." He leaned back in his chair and comfortably rested folded hands behind his head and studied her.

"What?"

"Never thought you'd leave Yosemite."

"I never thought I would, either. But it got too crowded and busy for me. Every damn weekend was like Fourth of July in Yellowstone."

Roger leaned forward then, resting his arms on the cluttered desk before him. "Won't have that problem here, although we get more crowded every year. Tahoe is no longer a sleepy little village and folks wanting peace and quiet hear about Sierra City. They tell two friends and so on. I've been here six years, McKenna, and they've only allowed me one more position in that time. Wouldn't be getting SAR now if those three skiers hadn't gotten lost and died this spring. Hell, we had two goddammed volunteers and me looking for them."

"Sorry, Roger."

"Yeah. But it happens. What I'm saying is, don't think you're going to be strictly SAR. We all wear a lot of hats here. Although I remember your aversion to being a tour guide."

A comfortable silence followed while they looked each other over, then identical smiles touched their faces.

"I've missed you," she said.

"Hell, me too." Then he leaned forward. "Remember that old bar in Gardiner, just across the Wyoming border?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded. "That's where you taught me to drink."

"My ass. You could drink me under the table. We've got the Rock House Cafe here. The Rock, as the locals call it, is the only bar in town. Let me buy you a cold beer. Maybe we'll stay long enough for dinner. They've got great steaks."

"You're on, but... I'll have to skip the steaks. I'm a vegetarian," she told him.

"McKenna? A vegetarian? What the hell is wrong with you?"

She laughed. "Some woman turned me on to it awhile back."

"No doubt. And was this woman someone special?" he asked with a grin.

"She was," Chris agreed.

"But not anymore?"

Chris didn't answer for a moment, not really wanting to bring up all that old baggage. It had been so long, anyway. But Roger was Roger and she remembered when he had helped her through her very first breakup, only a few months after she had met him. She looked up and met his eyes, knowing he was remembering that, too.

"It's been eight years," she finally said.

He raised his eyebrows. "Bad breakup?"

Chris laughed. "I made a total ass of myself," she said. "Damn near chased her to San Francisco."

Roger laughed, too. "If I remember, McKenna, you were always the one being chased."

"Yeah, well, I was in love," she said dramatically. She scratched a nonexistent itch on the back of her neck before continuing.

"Actually, she decided she liked men better. Talk about a blow to your ego," she said.

"Sorry, McKenna."

She shrugged. "Well, this particular man was the only child of a millionaire father. Who could blame her?" she said sarcastically.

"Women are fickle," Roger murmured. "Who needs them."

Chris smiled. "That mean you're single?"

Roger grinned. "Hell, no. Got me a woman here in town. I was just trying to make you feel better."

"Thanks a lot. I think I'll take you up on that beer now."

"Sure. And we'll see if Dave can whip something up for you."

Chapter Three

She rushed in, barely pausing at the receptionist's desk on her way past.

"She ready?"

"Yes, Ms. Stone, she's been waiting."

Jessie knocked lightly on the door, then stuck her head inside, smiling apologetically at her therapist.

"Jessie. Come in." Dr. Davies's smile was brief. "You're late. Again," she added.

"Sorry, Doc. I couldn't break away."

Jessie tossed her purse on the opposite chair before sitting. After all these months, she was still nervous whenever she visited Dr. Davies. Whenever she managed to keep her appointment, that is. It was supposed to get easier, she was told, but there was just something about facing her week after week, knowing the good doctor knew all the intimate details of her life. Well, those she would share, anyway.

"You missed last week. Again." Dr. Davies leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "I was worried. After our session the last time, you seemed upset."

"I always seem upset." Jessie sat back in her chair, her ankle resting casually on her knee and she absently twirled the string of her black Reeboks. "I'm just trying to wrap up the book. I get so involved, days just pass by. You know how it is."

"So you haven't given thought to what I suggested?"

Jessie swallowed nervously, her eyes moving quickly around the room, bouncing off the now familiar paintings and prints that adorned the walls, lighting everywhere except on her therapist.

"I can see you have," Dr. Davies said quietly.

"No. I just can't see myself going back to Sierra City after all this time. I might very well end up as a character in one of my books."

Dr. Davies laughed lightly. "You already are a character in one of your books. Several times over, I think." She paused before continuing. "You've been coming to me for nearly two years, Jessie. I hate to admit it, but we've made little progress. Perhaps confronting your mother..."

"She's not my mother," Jessie spat.

"I'm sorry. Annie. I think if you would go back, confront her, talk to her, get some sort of closure on that part of your life, then we can go forward from there."

Jessie stared at her, unblinking, then let her eyes slide away. Six therapists in the last five years and all but one had suggested she go back to see .. her. Then Jessie wryly flicked her eyes to the ceiling. Of course, the lone dissenter had suggested Jessie see a psychiatrist, hinting at hospitalization, shortly after she had read Jessie's latest book and its graphic depiction of murder.

"Let's seriously give it some thought, Jessie. I'm not suggesting you go back to reconcile, I'm only suggesting you go see her and talk about what happened, tell her how you feel about her."

"Oh, believe me, she knows how I feel."

Dr. Davies nodded. Jessie could see frustration in the doctor's eyes for the first time and she suddenly understood why they all suggested the same thing. They made progress only to a certain point, then each session consisted of rehashing the old stuff over and over again. Jessie suspected they got just as tired as she did discussing the same thing until they beat it to death, only to see it find life again the next week.

"It's been two weeks since we talked but I know you're finishing up your book. Have you gone out?"

Jessie nodded. "A couple of times."

"And?" she prodded.

"And what?" Jessie stood quickly, rustling the papers on Dr. Davies's desk as she walked past. "Nothing's changed, Doc. I didn't suddenly find a conscience and a set of morals in the last two weeks."

"Tell me what happened."

Jessie paced back and forth in the large office, remembering the two encounters. She shook her head. She hated this part. So she tried the casual approach.

"Just meeting new friends at the bar, you know. No big deal. One was even quite nice," Jessie added.

"And you took her to your place?"

Jessie stared. "Are you kidding? I didn't like her that much."

Dr. Davies leaned back in her chair and watched Jessie pace. "And why do you think you didn't invite her to your apartment?"

Jessie turned on her. "Why do you ask me that every week? I keep telling you, I don't like them that much. I don't want them at my home. It was just sex."

Dr. Davies pointed at the chair in front of her desk. "Sit down, Jessie, you're making me dizzy."

When Jessie finally settled in the chair, she continued. "Do you even remember their names?"

"I don't recall asking," Jessie replied.

Dr. Davies sighed wearily. "I don't need to tell you how destructive this is, not only to yourself but to these women as well."

"Oh, please. These women go willingly. They're not out looking for love, Doc, just a quick release and then it's right back out there."

"Are you sure? None of these women were actually attracted to you? None of them took a liking to you for what's inside?"

"What's to like? I'm not a nice person," Jessie admitted.

Dr. Davies paused, studying her, and Jessie shifted nervously, only barely talking herself out of bolting from the room.

"Let's go back, Jessie," Dr. Davies suggested. "We've discussed your childhood and your adult life. We always seem to skip over your adolescence."

Jessie shrugged, her brain desperately trying to recall memories.

"Tell me about... ninth grade," Dr. Davies suggested.

"I don't remember anything special. Just starting high school."

"Boyfriends?"

"No."

"What about birthday parties?"

"No."

"Were you in any clubs?"

"Not that I recall."

"Well, what did you do in high school?"

"Do? I didn't do anything. I went to school."

"Jessie, you must have had some outside activities. What about at home? What did you do for entertainment?"

Jessie stared hard at her, trying to read behind the questions. "I don't remember doing anything."

"What about your father? You remember him when you were a child. How about later? Did you still go camping with him, fishing?"

Jessie shook her head. "No. He died."

"You were seventeen when he died. What about before?"

Jessie shrugged. "I'm sure he was there," she murmured. "I just don't have any memories of him then."

"What about your mother? Annie?"

"What about her?"

"Was she there when you came home from school?"

"She was there. That was all. She didn't concern herself with me."

"Why do you think she didn't concern herself with you?"

"She didn't care what happened to me," Jessie said loudly. "She just... she just didn't care."

"Did she not ask you about your grades?"

"No."

"What about your father? Was he concerned about you?"

Jessie pulled her eyes away, landing on a familiar painting behind the doctor's head.

"I don't remember. I guess."

Dr. Davies sighed and rested her elbows on her desk, slowly pulling her glasses off.

"Jessie, we can go over and over these questions... and we have. But your answers are always the same. You don't remember. Why don't you remember, Jessie?"

"Don't you think I ask myself that?"

Dr. Davies nodded. "I know you do. Why else would you be seeking my help? I'll suggest it again, Jessie. Go back. See her. Ask her."

"I don't know what I would say to her," Jessie murmured.

"Jessie, if you ever hope to find peace in your life, to find happiness, to find someone to build a life with, then you've got to deal with your past. And you're not dealing with it. You ran from it all those years ago and you're still running. That's why you must go back and face your fears. Then maybe you can start to have a real life here."

Jessie slumped back, her head hung back as she stared at the ceiling. Shit.

"I haven't spoken to her since I was seventeen. Over sixteen years, nearly seventeen. I don't even know if she's still there," she said weakly.

Chapter Four

"McKenna, how did you get into this line of work, anyway?"

Bobby Daniels was panting and struggling to keep up with Chris as they hiked the steep part of Fire Lookout Trail.

"I started out working summers in Yellowstone during college. That's where I met Roger." She kept walking, smiling a little as Bobby slipped on a rock. "When I first got hired, Search and Rescue was still mostly volunteers or they were county or state people. Yellowstone finally hired a couple full-timers but Yosemite was one of the first to hire a regular SAR team," she said, continuing up the hill.

"Hey, slow down, will you?"

Chris stopped and leaned against a tree, pausing to catch her breath. Three weeks of walking these trails and she already felt like she knew them better than Bobby, who had been living here two years now. He had graduated college in Sacramento and wanted to take a summer off so he'd come here to work at the Pine Creek Lodge. He hadn't left yet. In fact, Bill and Peggy Witt, owners of the lodge, treated Bobby as their own son.

But Chris had a knack for directions, always had. It was almost like she had a compass in her head. The first week she was here, a seventy-two-year-old Alzheimer's patient turned up missing. She, Bobby, and the only other SAR volunteer, Greg Manning, had combed the trails alone that first day, adding volunteers from town by the end of the afternoon. She figured she walked every trail there those first two days. She remembered every step. At noon on the second day, they started searching the forest off the main trails. She finally found him, only two miles off the trail. He had spent the time curled against a tree trunk and by the time she got to him, he was completely incoherent. He had to be sedated before they could walk him back to the lodge. Since then, she'd only had one other search, that involving a ten-year-old boy with epilepsy. She and Bobby found him the same afternoon. He was fine, just lost.

"You know, you spend an awful lot of time out here for a volunteer, Bobby. Why haven't you hooked up with the Forest Service yet?"

"We looked into it last year. Roger is so short-handed, he thought they might authorize another position up here, but they said there wasn't enough money. Not if Roger wanted to get SAR up here, too. And, of course, they had just brought in Hatcher the year before." Bobby shrugged and looked off into the forest. "I mean, I could have gotten hired. When someone who's been in as long as Roger puts in a word for you, it's a lock, but I didn't want to relocate. Could've gone south to Sequoia or someplace up in Oregon, but this has become home. And I really wasn't interested in hiring on as maintenance."

Chris nodded. "So, college educated and working in a lodge. Ain't that the life?"

Bobby grinned. "I make enough to pay my student loans and I've got free rent. And it beats the hell out of working in a high-rise, that's for sure."

"Can you imagine fighting traffic every damn day to get to your job, only to be locked inside some depressing building for eight hours?"

"Yeah. Then traffic all the way home again, too." Bobby playfully tossed a pinecone at her. "We've got it made up here, McKenna. You know it?"

Chris agreed. "Pay's not so great but look at this view."

She turned a complete circle, eyes following the jagged face of Sierra Buttes to the west, outlined perfectly against the blue, blue sky, then back down the trail which they had just hiked. Beautiful.

The radio broke static just seconds before Roger's voice disturbed the silence.

"McKenna?"

"Yeah," she said, taking the radio from its holster at her hip.

"What's your ten-twenty?"

"Fire Lookout Trail."

"How far? Have you passed the lake cutoff?"

"Yes. We're just past the steep part where it levels off," she said. "You need us to go back down?"

"No. Up. I've got a frantic mom here. Her two boys were going to hike to the tower. Were supposed to be back down by now."

Chris and Bobby exchanged glances.

"No one signed in at the trailhead," she told Roger.

"No. They would have started on the Lake Trail and cut across. I've got Matt covering that one." He paused only long enough for Chris to notice his frustration. "Besides, they probably wouldn't know to sign in."

"Meaning?"

"They're young, McKenna."

"How young?"

"Grade school."

"Grade school? Jesus Christ! Who lets children hike up..."

Roger cleared his throat. "McKenna, she's already heard it from me."

"Ten-four. I'll radio from the top." She was already striding off while putting the radio back in its holster. "Come on, Bobby," she called over her shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, they topped the ridge, the old fire tower in sight. They paused to catch their breath while Chris searched with her binoculars.

"They're under the tower," she said. "Shit. One is prone. Goddamned stupid mother letting them go off by themselves," she murmured as she ran towards them.

"They probably convinced her they were old enough," Bobby panted behind her. "You know how kids are nowadays."

"Actually, I think it's how parents are nowadays. They look all of eight years old."

She had her backpack off by the time she reached them, relieved to see both boys conscious.

"Hey guys," she said. The boy lying down had blood on his forehead and the other one had obviously been crying. She touched his arm gently. "What happened to him?"

"He fell," he said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"From the tower?"

"Yes," he whispered, his voice trembling.

She shook her head, but held her tongue. They were eight and ten, she guessed. Jesus Christ! Up here alone. The mother is the one who needed a good ass whipping. She bent to the boy on the ground.

"Can you move your arms? Your legs?"

He could. She took the first aid kit from her backpack and cleaned the small gash on his head. He apparently hit a rock when he fell. Chris guessed he had been knocked out or else they would have attempted to hike back down. She turned back to the older one.

"How long was he out?" she asked quietly.

"A long time," he said before he started crying again. "I thought he was dead."

"And he could be. That was a damn stupid thing to do." She handed the radio to Bobby. "Let Roger know we found them."

She put antiseptic on the boy's gash and nodded when he jumped. At least his reflexes seemed to be normal. She put two butterfly bandages on before speaking.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Kyle. He's Kurt," the older one said, pointing to his brother who was now sitting up.

"Does he talk?"

"Yes."

"Kurt, how high up were you?"

"We crawled over the wire," he whispered

"Jesus Christ! You could have broken your neck. Do you know that? There's a reason for that sign, a reason those steps are closed off." She stared at them, trying to make them understand how lucky they were to be unhurt. "Hike up Ridge Trail. You can stand on a rock and see forever. Just like up there," she said, pointing to the tower. "But don't ever come up here again. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said, lips trembling, eyes tearing again.

"McKenna, Matt's here," Bobby said, pointing to the lone figure walking towards them.

If there was one person Chris had taken an instant liking to, it was Matt Henderson. No matter what the circumstance or situation, Matt had a smile on his face. He had been in the Sierra District four years and he was well respected in town and depended on by Roger to handle even the most mundane chores.

He greeted them now with a wave and a smile, his long hair tied in a ponytail and bouncing on his neck as he walked.

"Found the little monsters, huh? Hi boys. How are we feeling?"

Chris smiled and stepped out of the way, bringing Kurt around for Matt to inspect.

"Got a nice gash here," she said. "Probably a headache, too."

"Stitches?"

"Gonna need a few," she said. At Kurt's horrified look, they laughed. "Be thankful it's only stitches, Kurt. We could be hauling you out of here by helicopter."

"Let's take them back down the way you came up," Matt suggested. "It'll be quickest and all downhill."

"You go ahead. Bobby's going to show me the shortcut to Ridge Trail."

She headed down the trail Matt had just come up and left Bobby still talking. He chased after her, catching up just as she disappeared into the trees.

"Hey, wait up, McKenna!"

"Well, come on, it's getting late."

"They're about the fourth ones this summer," he panted beside her.

"Then why in the hell is the thing still standing?"

"It's old, I guess. Built in 1906, Roger says. Some think we should just open it up, so people could just walk up the steps instead of climbing over the wire."

"That's great," she said dryly. "The tower is a hundred feet high. That'll be pretty."

"It was just a thought, McKenna. It's not like we've got the personnel to keep watch, anyway."

"No. And it's not like the wire is doing any damn good."

Bobby stopped her with a tug on her sleeve and pointed into the woods.

"There."

"Where?"

"What did I say to look for?"

"The rock with the face in it," she said, her eyes glancing over the rocks lining the trail. Then she laughed. "A face, my ass."

Bobby shoved her arm playfully. "But you found it."

She picked her way carefully across the rocks, finding the well-concealed trail between two spruce trees.

"Clever," she said.

Bobby shrugged. "Well, I didn't make it," he admitted. "But it's about forty-five minutes shorter than taking Ridge Trail all the way around. If you don't mind climbing over a few boulders on the way down."

"But not coming up?" she asked.

"Oh, God no. It's all uphill. This is strictly a short cut on the way backdown."

They reached the Lake Trail in no time and followed it around to the trailhead. Chris tossed her backpack into the Jeep and pulled out a full bottle of water from behind the seat. She took a mouthful, then handed the bottle to Bobby. He handed it back after his turn, then stared at Chris silently.

"What?" she finally asked.

"Matt. He likes you."

"Yeah? So? I like him, too."

"No. I mean, you know, he likes you."

Chris laughed. "You mean like boy-girl kind of like? Aren't we a little old for this?"

"It's not like he's said anything to me or asked me to tell you. I can just tell, you know. Besides, I think you'd make a cute couple."

Chris laughed again. "Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but I'm really into the girl-girl kind of relationships."

Bobby stared, his eyes wide. "But, Roger said I should go ahead and tell you, he said you were as straight as they come."

"Get in, will you?" Chris started the Jeep and pulled away, letting the wind cool her hot face. "Roger was just having a little fun, Bobby. Apparently, it doesn't take much to amuse him," she said dryly.

"So, you and Matt, that's out, I guess?"

Chris grinned. "Does he have a sister?"

Chapter Five

She was sitting on the sofa reading that night when Roger knocked on her door.

"Hey? Can I join you?" He held up a six pack of beer.

"Of course, come in." She took the beer and put them in the refrigerator, handing him a cold one of hers.

"Mrs. Patterson wanted me to thank you for finding her boys this afternoon." He sat down beside her. "They tell me you have a little temper and that you yelled at them."

"Me? Hardly. I hope you yelled at the mother, though."

"Oh, yeah. I don't think she'll do anything like that again."

"By the way, thanks for encouraging Bobby to play matchmaker. Straight as they come, huh?"

Roger's laugh shook the windowpanes and Chris joined in.

"Bobby was going on and on about you and Matt but he suspected you might be gay and it was such a shame and so on that I just wanted him to shut up about it. I told him to tell you because you were a little dense when it came to men."

"Thanks a lot. I think I broke his heart."

"He idolizes Matt. If I didn't know better, I'd think he had a crush on him."

"Maybe he does."

"Don't think so, McKenna. Bobby's got him a little gal in Reno." He picked up the book she was reading and smiled. "J. T. Stone. Have you read all six of hers?"

"No, this is just the third. Have you?"

"Yep. She's from around here, you know."

"Really?" Chris flipped over to the back and looked at the picture of the author for the hundredth time, looking briefly into the very dark eyes that stared back at her. "Says here, she's from New York."

"Well, she grew up around here. Her mother still lives here." He took the book from her and looked at the picture of J. T. Stone. "Jessie Stone. Still so beautiful. Tragic story, really."

"The book?"

"No, her life. Her mother's, too. Annie."

"The hermit lady, as Kay calls her?"

"She's not really a hermit, not like what they called them in the old days, anyway. She just prefers her own company and doesn't like to get out. I was friends with her and Jack when I worked here in the seventies, before I went to Tahoe. Jack Stone was the Regional Supervisor for this district."

Chris was intrigued. Ever since she had picked up one of her books and seen the picture on the back, she had been curious about J. T. Stone. Her books were dark, mysterious. Her picture on the back was mysterious, too, and her nearly black eyes revealed little, perhaps adding to the mystique.

"Well, tell me the story," she said, drawing up her legs under her and pulling Dillon into her lap.

"Jessie was a teenager when I met her. Jack was older, already in his mid-fifties, but we became friends. He could party, that one. Very seldom was he seen in public with his wife. That would be Annie. I think that's why people call her a hermit. They assumed she didn't want to go out, when actually, Jack wouldn't allow it. He controlled her totally, right down to taking Jessie away from her."

"What do you mean, taking her away?"

"Well, he was already forty when she was born. That girl could do no wrong in his eyes. If Annie tried to discipline her, Jack was there to take her away with him, out on the trails, out fishing, anything to get away from Annie. So, naturally, Jessie grew up following him everywhere and had little to do with her mother. Jack wouldn't allow Annie to go along with them, you see. He said it was his quality time with his little girl. Now, a lot of this I've learned from Annie over the years. Jack would never have told me all that."

"Abuse?" Chris asked.

"What?"

"Jack. Sexual abuse. With the kid," Chris suggested.

"Jack? Oh, no," Roger said. "He loved Jessie."

Chris raised an eyebrow. With what little Roger had just told her, she would bet a hundred dollars this Jack wasn't just simply fond of his little girl.

"You know what I mean. He wouldn't hurt her. He worshiped her."

"Okay," Chris said, still skeptical. "Then tell me the rest." Chris was enjoying the story. She had a ridiculous teenage crush on the author already, all from just a picture. Perhaps Roger could give her some insight into J. T Stone's personality.

"Well, needless to say, Jack and Annie didn't exactly have an ideal marriage. Jack had girlfriends all over the place. Everyone knew about them. Even Annie. Of course, Jessie never knew. Well, Annie started going to San Francisco more and more and Jack found out she had a man there. They had a terrible screaming match, he called her a whore, unfit mother, you name it. Annie came right back at him about all the women he had on the side and how their marriage was a farce. Anyway, they thought Jessie was outside, but she heard the whole tiling. She would have been sixteen, I think. Maybe older. Annie said Jessie only said one thing to her. She said, "So, this is all your fault." Well, Jack took Jessie away. Took her out hiking or something. Came home like nothing had happened. Next day, went to work like normal and didn't come home. We found him lying at the bottom of Milford Canyon. He had fallen off the ledge up on Ridge Trail."

"Jesus. Did he jump?"

Roger shrugged. "Who's to say? Annie thinks so. So do I."

"Why?" She got up to get them another beer, pouring out the rest of her warm one.

"Annie thinks because he couldn't bear the thought of Jessie finding out about all the woman he had on the side. I think he couldn't stand the thought of his friends finding out that Annie had been cheating on him. That would have made him less a man, you see."

"So you kill yourself?"

"Well, I wouldn't, no. But you'd have to know Jack."

"So what happened to Jessie? She found out he was nothing but a liar?"

"After they found him, Jessie blamed Annie for his death, I guess. When she turned seventeen, she left and hasn't been back since. Sixteen, seventeen years, probably."

"She hasn't seen her mother?"

"Hasn't even spoken to her mother," Roger said.

"No wonder the mother is always the first to get murdered in her books. And not very pleasant deaths, either," Chris added.

"Yeah, I know. But Annie is okay now. I'm not sure how she survived the first few years, but she's one strong woman."

"I'd like to meet her, Roger. Kay says you take her groceries and stuff."

"Yeah. I go see her about once a week or so. Before I came back here, she would only go into town every other month and stock up, then no one would see her again until the next time. That's how the hermit thing stuck. We can go see her tomorrow, if you like. I don't think she'd mind."

Annie was sitting on the porch, a thick book lying in her lap, when they drove up. She waved twice, then got up to meet them.

"Why, Roger, what a surprise." She turned to Chris. "Hello. I'm Annie Stone."

Her voice was as strong as her handshake and Chris smiled politely.

"This is Chris McKenna, new Search and Rescue. And a friend," he added.

"Finally got your SAR, Roger? Good. Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Chris McKenna. Come inside. I have fresh brewed tea. It's so hot out, isn't it?"

Chris exchanged a glance with Roger as they followed her inside. What a pleasant woman, Chris thought. Absolutely nothing like she had been envisioning. Chris looked around the well-kept house, pausing in the living room before following Roger and Annie into the kitchen. The walls were cluttered with paintings and numerous others lay scattered about, some leaning against the wall. She looked closer and saw Annie's name scribbled at the bottom.

"Oh, don't look too closely, Chris. That's just my hobby. Some of me better ones I've hung, but the others... well, I'm out of room in my studio." She pointed to the stack leaning against the wall. "Those are on the way to the basement. I can't bring myself to paint over them yet."

"Well, they all look very good," Chris said sincerely. She knew little about art, but they at least looked like trees and mountains. "What style would you call this? Abstract?"

"No. More like Impressionism. I tried abstract art, but it wasn't for me. And my talent doesn't quite go far enough for Realism." She shrugged. "But it's just a hobby," she said again.

They took their iced tea to the back deck, shaded this time of day. Chris waited while Roger found another chair for her. She doubted Annie ever had need for three. They were silent for a long moment, all three looking out toward the mountain as the sun reflected off the western facing slopes.

"Well, Roger, it's unlike you to show up unexpectedly. Did you need something or are you just showing me off to the new SAR?"

"Can't I just visit, Annie? Chris just happened to be along."

"Bullshit, Roger. We've been friends too long," she said, bringing a smile to Chris.

"I wanted to meet you," Chris admitted.

"Why? Have you heard the rumors about me and you wanted to see a real live hermit for yourself?" she asked with a laugh. "I'm not really a hermit, dear," she said quietly. "Just don't have a whole lot of use for people, is all."

Chris thought again what a delightful woman she was and she was glad that Roger brought her here.

"I was filling her in on the local history last night, Annie. Your name came up," Roger said.

"Oh, all that again?" She turned to Chris. "Do you know of my daughter, Chris?"

"I've read a couple of her books, yes."

Annie nodded. "Then you know about as much as I do." She looked away, eyes closed for a moment. "How old are you?"

"I'm thirty-three," she said, resisting the urge to fall back on her standard reply of twenty-nine.

"Jessie will be thirty-four this fall. She was a tall girl, although I don't think as tall as you are. She always had a dark complexion, like you, but your hair is much lighter. And of course, she didn't have your pretty blue eyes. She had her father's eyes, dark as the night," Annie said quietly. Then she looked up, a smile returning. "Oh, well. Another life. Now, how long have you been here?"

"First of this month," Chris said.

"You probably haven't had a decent meal since you got here, then. Knowing Roger, he has you at the Rock every night."

Chris nodded, her eyes flicking to Roger.

"I'll expect you for dinner tomorrow night at six."

"Dinner?"

"Yes. You do eat?"

Chris nodded again. "I'll be here."

That evening, at the Rock House, Chris joined Roger and Ellen for dinner. Ellen Burdett owned the only grocery store in Sierra City. Widowed at a young age, she took her insurance money and bought the store from Mrs. Ramsey, who had wanted to move to Oregon to be closer to her daughter. She and Roger started seeing each other shortly after Ellen moved here. Chris would bet money that they had never spoken of marriage. Roger would run screaming into the night and Chris suspected Ellen knew that.

"Roger tells me you're having dinner with Annie Stone tomorrow," Ellen said.

"Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me." Chris raised her hand and waved at Martha. "Still waiting for that beer," she yelled.

"Keep your pants on, McKenna, I'm the only one here," Martha yelled back.

"Ah, small town politeness. Gotta love it," Chris murmured.

"If you're dying of thirst, have some of mine," Roger offered.

Chris took a sip, then pushed the mug back to him.

"I've been here five years and I have yet to meet her," Ellen said.

"Annie? You're kidding? Why haven't you gone with Roger?"

Ellen shrugged. "I didn't want to impose on her and it would be rude. I mean, I would be going mostly out of curiosity."

Chris turned to Roger. "Why do you allow these rumors to continue? She seemed a perfectly normal, healthy woman to me."

"And she is. I think Annie enjoys the rumors. It keeps people away, that's for sure. And it's not like she never leaves the house. She goes to San Francisco a couple of times a year and she's an avid hiker. She's been all over these mountains and rarely stays on the trails. Most of her paintings come from something she's seen on her hikes."

"Why would she feel comfortable going out in San Francisco and not here?" Chris asked.

"She never went out here, even when Jack was alive. She doesn't have any friends here. Not one." Then he shrugged. "Well, other than me."

"That's a very sad life," Ellen said.

"Of her choosing, let's don't forget," he said.

Martha finally came with Chris's beer, sloshing a little on the table when she set it down.

"Dave's got some pasta concoction he's made up for you, McKenna."

"Thanks. Can't wait." Chris turned to Ellen. "I've really got to start cooking. These nightly surprises of Dave's are getting stranger by the day. The other night, he gave me a bowl of cottage cheese with pinto beans on top."

"I warned you to stick with the baked potato," Ellen said.

Chapter Six

Jessie stood on her balcony staring out at the lights of the city, her wineglass held lightly in her hand. She looked up, like she did nearly every night, trying to spot a star, even make out a constellation that she remembered from her childhood, but the lights of the city were too bright, like they always were. Her shoulders drooped and she let out a heavy sigh. Ever since Dr. Davies mentioned going back to Sierra City, she had thought of little else. She remembered chasing after her father down the hiking trails when she was barely old enough to walk, learning to tie flies on her fishing rod, learning the names of the trees in the forest, the birds, and animals. She remembered camping with him high above timberline, so cold, even in the summer, that she would shiver all night long. She remembered taking horses from the stables at the lodge and riding into the high country, so far back that it would have taken them days on foot. She remembered the waterfalls they had bathed under and the clear streams they had swam in and the many campfires they had sat around, him telling her stories of his camping trips with his father when he was young. How old had she been? Ten at the most?

What was she doing in this city, so far from the mountains of her childhood? She knew she would go back. Just the thought thrilled her. Before coming to New York, she had spent the first eight years in San Francisco but she hadn't dared go to the mountains. She couldn't imagine what it would really be like to step into the forest again, to look up at the giant trees. She wondered if Mary Ruth Henninger still rented cabins or if she had passed on? She wondered if the Rock House was still there. She had been too young back then to visit the bar, but she remembered an occasional dinner there. Then she thought of Annie and her heart grew cold. Her so-called mother, the woman who had never been there for her. The woman her father despised. She wondered if Annie even knew she was a writer now, a successful writer. She wondered if Annie even thought of her anymore.

She would go in late August, she decided. After the summer crowds had thinned. She swirled the last bit of her wine and allowed a small smile. It would be good to go back, she admitted. Just to soak up memories, if nothing else.

Chapter Seven

Chris parked under the small juniper tree at the edge of die front porch and walked up die steps. Before she could knock, Annie's voice broke the silence.

"I'm back here," she called.

Chris walked into the empty living room and glanced around, wondering where Annie was. She hesitated a moment, then went into the kitchen, leaving the bottle of wine she brought with her. She was just about to call out when Annie came from down the hall, drying her hands on the apron she wore, which was stained with paint. She greeted Chris with a smile and ushered her back into the kitchen.

"So glad you could come, Chris." She spotted the bottle of wine on the counter and picked it up. "Nice. But this was not necessary. I have plenty. On my trips to San Francisco, I stock up on wine. I have quite a cache down in the basement."

"Well, I wanted to bring something," Chris said.

"That was thoughtful, but you'll take this back with you so you can enjoy it another time. I should have warned you though, I don't eat meat. However, I think anyone can get by at least one meal without it. Even Roger."

Chris laughed. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. I'm a vegetarian, too."

Annie grinned and clasped her hand. "What a pleasant coincidence. Now, how about a glass of wine? It's been so long since I've had someone over for dinner, I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners."

Chris watched as Annie pulled two bottles from her refrigerator and held them for Chris's inspection.

"I didn't know which you would prefer. This is a lovely sauvignon blanc, one of my favorites. And a chardonnay. Both will go beautifully with pasta, so you choose," she told Chris.

"Let's do the sauvignon blanc then," Chris suggested.

They sat on the porch drinking wine while the casserole finished baking. Mountain chickadees were fighting for the seeds on a bird feeder hanging off the porch. An ear of corn in an adjacent tree kept the squirrels busy and two chipmunks were underneath the feeder, foraging for the dropped kernels. The hummingbird feeder was busy as well and they watched in silence as the tiny birds buzzed by. Chris enjoyed the quiet and took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the cedars and pines.

"You like it here?" Annie asked.

"Very much, yes."

"I could tell. The mountains aren't for everyone. Especially women. It takes a certain type, don't you think? One who's not afraid to be alone? I grew up in the city and only came out here for holidays and such. When I married Jack and moved out here, though, it was like coming home. I've never thought of leaving, Chris. Even in my darkest moments, I would never consider going back to the city."

"Do you have family left?"

"No, I've lost touch. There may be cousins and the like. In fact, I'm sure of it, but none that I know. I've been up here forty years, Chris."

"I guess this is home, then."

Annie nodded, watching the squirrels fight for the ear of corn. "You must think I'm a strange bird," she said quietly.

"No. Not at all," Chris said.

"Well, I've got my hobbies and my books. I do miss company, though. I usually talk Roger's ear off whenever he comes by." She stood suddenly. "Let's get that meal on the table. You must be starving."

She went back inside and Chris noted the way she almost floated when she walked. She was a small woman, still very graceful, just a hint of what she was in her younger days, Chris thought.

"This is delicious," Chris said after her first bite. "Dave is nearly starving me to death."

"I figured you ate there." She shook her head disapprovingly. "Nothing but grease, Chris. I doubt the Rock has even one meal with pasta."

Chris nodded. "I think he keeps a bag on hand just for me. It's always a surprise to find out what he plans to serve with it."

"Well, I insist you take leftovers home."

"Okay. But only if you let me help with the dishes."

"Deal. And we'll plan to do this again, if you like."

"I look forward to it."

Chapter Eight

Chris and Greg Manning were riding in the backcountry, looking for a hiking club from San Francisco. They were only a day past due and that normally wouldn't cause concern, but this group consisted mostly of kids. They had started up the South Rim Trail, which by itself is twenty-seven miles long. But, inevitably, hikers miss the loop trail and keep on into the backcountry, hiking the Nevada Trail for many miles before they realize it.

"You ride pretty good for a girl, McKenna."

"So do you, Greg."

Chris rolled her eyes to the heavens, cursing Roger for making her take Greg along. Besides Bobby, Greg was the only other trained SAR volunteer in Sierra City, but they clashed and Chris would just as soon only use him in emergencies. Roger, however, thought otherwise. Greg was strong, a body builder, and he didn't hide the fact that he thought SAR was no job for a woman. When things slowed down at the end of summer, Chris planned a training session with Greg and Bobby and she'd show him just how qualified she really was. In the meantime, she had to put up with his sexist comments.

"What was Yosemite like?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"Crowded. Busy. Lots of lunatics from the city."

"You must have fit right in," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, absolutely, Greg," she said just as sarcastically. "You would not have though. Neanderthals were pretty much extinct there." She gave her horse a nudge, breaking into a trot and away from Greg.

They stopped at dark, setting up camp along side a small stream. She radioed in while Greg collected wood for a fire.

"We're following tracks, Roger. It's got to be them."

"Surely they realized they were on the wrong damn trail and headed back," he said. "I told them about the loop trail three times, McKenna. Three times. How hard can it be?"

"I guess that means Matt didn't find anything?"

"Negative. They missed the cutoff."

"We'll start out at first light, Roger. We'll find them tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, if you don't run into them pretty quick, I'll have to call in air support from the County. I'm going to have about fifteen parents getting hysterical real soon. Call me when you start out tomorrow. I'll be here."

It was fully dark by the time they had the campfire going and water boiling for their dinner. Greg pulled over a downed tree for them to sit on and Chris stretched her legs out toward the fire.

"It's been awhile since I've been out at night," Greg said.

"Me, too. I like it."

In Yellowstone, Chris had often taken her time off to go camping, stealing a few days to get away from the crowds and hike into the backcountry to be alone. In Yosemite, especially during the summers, there were few days off and even then, it was difficult to find a trail that wasn't occupied by a hundred others. She didn't miss the crowds, that was for sure. Sierra City was a great place to unwind after eight hectic years at Yosemite.

She watched Greg silently, searching her mind for a safe topic they could discuss without egos and testosterone getting in the way. She thought of none. So instead, they added the boiling water to their freeze-dried dinners and sat quietly around the fire listening to owls in the distance and the occasional howl of a coyote.

The next morning, as the sun was just creeping over the mountain peaks, they had their horses saddled and were on the trail again. At nine, they heard the high-pitched singing of adolescent boys. They looked at each other and smiled. Ten minutes later, they came upon the group heading their way.

"Hi there," Greg said, leaning over in his saddle.

"Hello. You're rangers, I hope." One of the two adults came forward, relief showing on his face.

"Search and Rescue."

"We missed that loop trail Mr. Hamilton was telling us about. We turned around two days ago."

"You're probably two more nights on the trail," Chris said, swinging out of the saddle. "How're your supplies?"

"We should be okay. I guess some of the parents are getting worried?"

"For sure," she said. "I'll radio in and let them know you're okay." She glanced at Greg. "Feel like camping for a couple more nights? One of us should probably stay with them," she suggested. She really wasn't up to two nights with fifteen young boys and two adult men.

"Sure. I can handle it, McKenna. You run on back."

Chris gritted her teeth but managed a brief smile. "I'll leave the radio with you. Just in case you get into trouble."

She rode fast, putting distance between them, trying to ward off the foul mood that had settled over her. Spending time with Greg usually did that to her. She stopped for a moment when she came to a stream crossing to let the horse rest, then she pushed on. It was well after dark when she arrived at the lodge. Bill and Peggy were always kind enough to let them use their horses and Roger tried to compensate them as best the budget would allow. The stable was already closed for the night so Chris brushed down the horse herself. She had pushed the horse hard but she didn't want to spend another night out on the trail. The horse was munching happily on the grain Chris left out and her own stomach let her know she had skipped lunch. She thought about stopping by the Rock but she needed a shower and she wasn't really in the mood for one of Dave's surprises. Canned soup at the cabin sounded better.

After her shower, she sat on the sofa relaxing with a glass of wine. Dillon was curled in her lap, purring loudly, having forgiven her for leaving him alone the night before. She had J. T. Stone's book out and she flipped it over, looking at the picture on the back. She wondered, not for the first time, how she could be so attracted to someone just from a picture. The author was certainly attractive, but it was more than that. Chris thought perhaps it was the eyes that drew her. Dark eyes that seemed to look right into her very soul. Or maybe the lips that just hinted at a smile but never quite made it. She finally flipped the book back over with a slight laugh. J. T. Stone was probably no one she would want to meet, judging from the stories Roger had told her of Jessie's childhood. She was probably one mixed up adult now. Anyone who wrote about murder all the time had to be a little strange.

The next week, when she joined Annie again for dinner, Chris asked about her daughter.

"Roger's told me some."

"Oh, it's my own fault. I allowed Jack to take her from me. He was obsessed with her, right from the beginning. He wouldn't even allow me to breastfeed. Here I held this week-old baby in my arms and I had to feed her with a bottle."

"You must have loved him very much then."

"Oh, I did, in the beginning. He was very exciting and very handsome. He took me out of the city and brought me here and I loved it. I was happy. Of course, when I found out about his affairs, the first time, I was devastated. But then I got pregnant and I thought it would all be okay, so I just ignored them, you see. He always came home to my bed and I was so young and foolish. I thought that would be enough. Then Jessie came along and he changed. I realized how little he needed me. Even for Jessie, I was just a cook and housekeeper, someone who was here all the time but who wasn't allowed to share in their lives. He taught her that so I can't totally blame her."

"I'm sorry, Annie, for bringing this up. You don't have to tell me," Chris said, mindful of the sadness in Annie's voice.

"Oh, all that happened thirty years ago," she said, waving her hands dismissively at Chris. "That doesn't bother me now." She pushed her plate aside and refilled her wine, this time a dark cabernet. "I found someone to love me, though," she said quietly.

Chris took a sip from her own glass, waiting for Annie to continue.

"His name was Jonathan and he was an attorney in San Francisco. He was older than me, a widower. I went there to inquire about getting a divorce, you see. But I couldn't go through with it. I always held out some hope that Jessie loved me just a little and if I stayed with her father, then I wouldn't lose her completely. Anyway, Jonathan and I started seeing each other and I fell in love with him. Jessie was only twelve then. I vowed to stay with Jack until she graduated high school, then I was going to be with Jonathan."

She held her wineglass in front of her a long moment before finally taking a swallow. Then she smiled and patted Chris's hand.

"Of course, things never turn out the way we plan, do they? Jack found out about Jonathan and he was furious, to say the least. Never mind that he had women all over the state or that we had not been intimate in years." Her voice grew bitter then and she slammed her hand on the table. "He was a bastard all right. Unfortunately, Jessie was home when he decided to bring it all to light. She heard everything and if there was any love in her for me, it died that day. Oh, her eyes looked at me with contempt and hatred. I had made her daddy cry, you see. I had broken his heart." Annie stood up suddenly and took their plates. "Bullshit, of course, but he was a fine actor," she said as she walked away. "A fine actor."

Chris stayed at the table, trying to imagine this woman's grief. All these years to have lived here alone, carrying such painful memories along. Why did she stay here?

Annie came back and reached over the table to fill their glasses. "I find it's best to be drinking whenever I dwell on this subject. Not that I think about it often, Chris. I couldn't survive if I did. But it helps to remember sometimes."

"What about Jonathan?" Chris asked.

"Well, after Jack's death, he wanted to marry me, but there was Jessie to consider. She had not spoken to me since that evening of our fight. Even after the funeral, nothing. It was as if I didn't exist. I couldn't get through to her. Of course, she blamed me for everything and why not? She knew nothing of Jack's affairs over the years. She only knew what he told her and what she had seen. I never went with them on their camping trips or hiking or fishing. She thought, and was told, I'm sure, that I didn't want to be with them. In truth, I wasn't allowed to go, you see. It's my own damn fault for allowing him that control over me but I was young and foolish. Anyway, it was as if I had pushed him myself, for all Jessie cared. We lived in complete silence for nearly nine months, then she left."

"Forgive me for asking, but do you think Jack ever... abused her?"

Annie slid her eyes away quickly and Chris saw the shadows of doubt cross her face, but Annie shook her head.

"No. He wouldn't. It wasn't Jack's style. I mean, he had women. Lots of women," she said.

Chris didn't push. It wasn't her business anyway, although she could see the thought had crossed Annie's mind before. Instead, she moved the conversation back to Jonathan.

"You could have gone to San Francisco, started over," Chris suggested.

"No. I would have been no good for Jonathan then. I stayed here with my sorrow. Wallowed in it, actually." She leaned closer to Chris. "I learned a great deal about wine that first year, Chris," she said quietly, then laughed. "But I always thought that if Jessie needed me for anything, she would at least know where I was. If I moved, how would she find me?"

"But she never did?"

"No. Never. She's done quite well for herself, though." Annie leaned forward and nearly whispered, "Have you noticed how often mothers get murdered in her books? Oh, and not a quick death, either."

Chris laughed with her, impressed again that this woman's spirit had not been broken.

"The only thing I know about her life is what is crammed on the book jacket. Not much, but at least I know she's in New York." Then she shrugged. "You take what you can get, Chris. The rest, you leave to your imagination."

Chapter Nine

Jessie parked her rental car in front of the office and took a deep breath of mountain air as she walked around the car. The late-August sun felt good on her skin and she couldn't wait to trade her slacks for shorts. Looking around, she was surprised at how familiar everything seemed. The roads going through town were still not paved and she remembered riding down them on her bike, dust flying, going to meet her father at the ranger station. She looked up at the trees and smiled, remembering how big they looked to her as a child, how she used to put her arms around their trunks and try to touch her fingers on the other side. Of course, she never could. She got out and breathed deeply, letting the still familiar smell wash over her. Sixteen years. Just like yesterday, she thought.

She heard the screen door open and she turned toward the cabin, surprise showing in her eyes. She slipped the sunglasses back on quickly as Mary Ruth Henninger came down the steps, looking every bit of fifty, though Jessie knew her to be in her late seventies by now.

"Welcome, dear. You must be Miss Parker."

Jessie took the offered hand, smiling slightly at the firm handshake of the older woman.

"I'm a little late, I'm afraid," Jessie apologized.

"Just a few hours. I know how traffic can be in those big cities. Come inside and we'll get you fixed up, dear."

Jessie followed her up the steps, knowing it was not the traffic that made her late, but rather a trip to the grocery store and her own hesitation at finally coming back here after all this time. It was as if she were afraid of this place. But she hoped sixteen years were long enough. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized by any of the locals who might remember her. She took off her sunglasses only long enough to sign where Mary Ruth asked. She was proud that she didn't hesitate when signing the strange name.

"You know, you look familiar, dear. Have you stayed here before?"

Jessie coughed, then cleared her throat and answered truthfully. Indeed, she had never stayed at Mary Ruth Henninger's cabins before.

"Well, I've got a nice secluded cabin for you, just like you requested. Number seven. Not quite as far back as cabin eight but a new ranger is living there now."

Jessie nodded and politely listened to the directions, thinking she could still find her way around here blindfolded.

As she drove to her cabin, she had a momentary lapse and a pleasant feeling of contentment settled over her, almost as if she were simply on vacation. But she couldn't keep memories away for long and she was soon a little girl again, chasing after her father, loving life to the fullest.

So unlike the woman she had grown to be.

A hardness settled back over her by the time she found her cabin. It wasn't very far off the road, but it was nestled in the trees and there were no other cabins nearby. None that she could see, anyway. She walked around, some of her good humor returning as she watched not three, but four chipmunks come up for a close inspection of their new cabin guest. She heard a squirrel fussing at her from a low hanging branch and she looked up, watching it as it flipped its tail at her before scurrying up the tree a little higher.

She quickly unpacked the rental car, taking the bags of groceries in first and putting the perishables in the refrigerator. She had picked up quite a few things in Sacramento, including a couple of thick steaks. She didn't envision going out for dinner and she certainly didn't want to go to the local grocery store for food. In reality, she couldn't remember the last time she had cooked steaks outside. She finally came to her most important bag. Wine.

She held up a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and nodded. She would have that with her steak tonight. Other bottles followed and she put the pinot grigio and chardonnay in the refrigerator to chill, the rest lined the small counter space next to the sink.

She went back outside for her two bags of clothes and walking back into the cabin, she finally took the time to look around. The sofa was worn, but looked clean. The small lamp on the end table had been left on for her and it brought a coziness to the room, despite the bare walls. She shrugged. Certainly not the fancy hotel she had stayed in last night in San Francisco, but it had a welcoming warmth that she was never able to find in a city.

She changed into shorts and put on the new hiking boots she had bought. It had been sixteen years since she had on hiking boots. Her exercise these days was jogging in city parks with hundreds of others and she was actually looking forward to a little solitude on the trails. She walked towards the woods behind the cabin and found a small stream, barely three feet across and she jumped it easily. A little farther along, though, she came upon a cabin and stopped. One of the Henninger's, she supposed. She followed the stream until she came to the road, then walked the short distance to a trailhead that she remembered. Elk Meadow Trail, a two-mile hike to the meadow and back would be easy enough. A good way to get back into the swing, so she started out, ignoring the notice that everyone should sign in before going into the forest. She followed the trail, pushing childhood memories away and letting her mind go blank. She tried to remember the names of the trees. Sugar pine, of course. Who could forget a tree with twenty-inch pinecones? She easily picked out a white pine and Douglas fir. Then she stood next to a spruce and the name would not come to her, much to her disappointment. She walked on, finally getting close enough, and she grinned. An incense cedar. Her favorite tree. She stuck her nose next to the bark and inhaled, breaking into laughter at the joy that simple scent brought to her.

She stepped back and looked to the heavens, wondering when the last time was she had laughed out loud. Too many years to remember, she thought. But this was nice and she turned a circle, her arms held out, away from her side, letting this carefree feeling overtake her, relishing in the freedom she suddenly felt.

Then she wandered on, following the trail that she remembered, pausing at the meadow, thinking of all the times she had come here in the spring, running through the wildflowers, chasing butterflies, her father right behind her.

She shook her head. She wasn't ready for that yet. Today, tonight, she just wanted to relax. Tomorrow she would hike up Ridge Trail and remember.

Later that evening, she sat on her porch and waited for the charcoal to heat. Her steak was seasoned and ready and the opened bottle of wine sat conveniently next to her chair. Her mood had changed from apprehensive to dark, to reflective, to melancholy and to just plain content. A feeling she hadn't had in so many years, she hardly recognized it. And she didn't want to lose it now. She closed her eyes and listened to the night sounds. She was thrilled to hear an owl in the woods behind the cabin and she listened as its mate answered from farther in the forest.

The sounds of piano music drifted to her, coming slowly to her senses. She opened her eyes lazily and looked around, wondering who would disturb the night with music. But as she listened, the piano faded into the background, its soothing sound relaxing her as the owls again called to each other. The cabin across the stream, she thought, when she spotted a light through the woods.

Chris sat on her back deck drinking a beer and listening to the soft sounds of the piano. This music always put her to sleep and she yawned now, thinking she should turn it off before she fell asleep right here on the porch. She heard the owl call and looked up into the trees, wondering where he was hiding. She heard Dillon's low mew and chuckled. He, too, was looking into the trees, perhaps looking for the owl.

"You're too fat," she told him. "He'd never carry you off."

She finished her beer in one long swallow and went inside. She turned the music down and picked up the book she was reading. As always, she flipped it over and stared at the author, wanting to ask so many questions. Annie talked freely about Jessie now. Chris suspected that after all these years of keeping her feelings in, this was Annie's way of purging herself. She talked for hours about Jack and Jessie and even Jonathan. Jonathan was dead now, Chris had learned, but Annie didn't seem to grieve for him, not like she did for Jessie.

Chris read only two chapters then stopped, as she did every night. She didn't know why she was prolonging the book, perhaps because this was the fourth book and there were only two more published and she wasn't ready to say goodbye to J. T. Stone. She put it back on the shelf neatly and poured herself a glass of wine before bed. Dillon crawled in her lap and she stroked him, letting him fall asleep as she sipped her wine in the quiet darkness.

Chapter Ten

Jessie stood out on the ledge, looking across the canyon to the other side as the sun's rays broke across the mountain, hitting her face, warming her. She thought she would feel something here and was surprised when it didn't come. Sixteen years ago, her father had stood on this very spot. What had he been thinking? Was he thinking of her? Or was he thinking of Annie and how she had betrayed him? She would never know. Just as she would never know for sure whether he had jumped to his death or simply slipped after coming up here to do some soul-searching. She wanted to think the latter, but she knew in her heart that it wasn't.

This was the first time she had come up here to the ledge since they had found him. She had walked into the canyon the day she left, but she couldn't bring herself to come up here. Now, she looked around, hoping to feel something, wondering why she didn't. Anger. Sorrow. Something. But nothing came. She simply felt empty, like she had these past sixteen years. She sat down on the ledge and leaned over, looking into the canyon some three hundred feet below, imagining the spot where he laid. She couldn't remember exactly where it was, though in her mind she could picture him falling, no scream coming from him, just the resounding thud as he crashed on the rocks below, his broken body empty, her father gone forever.

She took a deep breath and let her tears come, as she knew they would. For sixteen years, she had not shed a one, not once. But she hung her head now and let the sobs rock her until she could cry no more. She sat there for minutes, maybe hours, as the sun rose higher in the sky and the tears dried on her cheeks. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and rested her damp cheek on her legs, her eyes traveling across the canyon, resting on the evergreens on the other side, unseeing. She felt sorry for herself mostly. All those lost years.

Jessie sensed a presence seconds before she heard the scuffing on the rocks. She lifted her head from her knees only slightly, surprised to find someone standing there, watching her.

"You're kinda close to the edge there, ma'am," Chris said, wondering who in their right mind would sit on the ledge like that, only a foot from tumbling into the canyon. There had been no sign-ins at the trailhead but that didn't mean anything. Not everyone followed the rules.

Jessie had half a mind to ignore the woman, thinking it wasn't any of her damn business how close to the edge she sat. But she was getting tired, so she stood up and stretched her back, realizing just how long she had been sitting there.

"I was a little close, I guess," she said to the stranger, looking over the edge and into the canyon one more time. Then she turned and easily hopped over the foot-wide gap in the rock and stopped in front of the woman. For the first time, Jessie noticed the Forest Service patch on the stranger's T-shirt and the radio strapped to the woman's hip. With an arch of one eyebrow, she allowed her eyes to travel over the woman, up past scuffed hiking boots, tanned, well-muscled legs, hiking shorts, and the white T-shirt tucked neatly inside. Her light brown hair was layered and wind blown, strands hanging over the blue eyes that looked back at her. Sexy. Jessie gave one of her most seductive looks and smiled.

"Who are you?"

"Search and Rescue."

Jessie grinned. It was just too easy. "And... who are you searching for?" Jessie asked quietly, stepping closer.

Chris was amazed at how well she hid her surprise, for there was no mistaking those nearly black eyes looking at her so intently. How many nights had she held the book and looked at them herself? The only thing different was the hair, now much shorter than in the picture.

"I'm looking for hikers that don't sign in at trailheads. It's a huge offense, you know."

Jessie teasingly raised both arms over her head. "Guilty. I guess you caught me then." Jessie met the woman's steady gaze, thinking how beautiful her eyes were. Blue. Blue as a mountain sky. She wondered how long it would take for this conquest. A little diversion from the unwanted task of seeing Annie; this woman would do nicely.

Chris was not immune to the flirtatious looks and gestures of J. T. Stone, but she sensed a complete lack of sincerity and she was much too wise to fall victim to that sort of seduction. And despite her fantasies every night, she never really believed she would meet J. T. Stone. But here she was, unabashedly flirting with her. Well, two could play this old game.

"Now that I've caught you, what in the world should I do with you?"

"House arrest?" Jessie suggested, her lips forming into a seductive smile. "Overnight stay?"

Chris crossed her arms and watched Jessie Stone for a moment, letting her eyes travel the length of her, much like Jessie had done earlier. Then she shook her head. "No. I think I'll let you off the hook this time. First offense and all."

Jessie was a bit disappointed. She'd been so close, she was sure. But the game wasn't over. She would be here at least a week.

"Thank you. I guess I should head down then. Want to escort me?"

"Can't. I'm heading up. Sorry."

Jessie shrugged. This woman clearly wasn't interested. And Jessie wasn't about to beg. The women in New York were so much easier. "Have a nice walk then." She gave one more lingering look, then told herself that the woman must be straight not to have taken the bait. Oh well, her loss.

Chris walked on up the trail, purposely keeping her back to Jessie Stone, refusing to turn around to watch. Only when she topped the next ridge did she stop and lean against a tree. She took a drink from her water bottle, wondering what in the world J. T Stone was doing up here. Chris was almost certain that Jessie had been at the exact spot where Jack had jumped. The ledge with the split in it, Annie had said. What's she doing here? Maybe to finally see Annie. Maybe to do research for a new book. Then her eyes widened. Maybe to do both.

Jessie passed the trailhead, her mind still on the woman she'd met on the trail. She picked up the pencil, thinking she would have just a little more fun. She wrote: Jennifer Parker. Out safely. It was gorgeous at the top... view included.

She smiled as she closed the lid on the box. She didn't doubt the woman would look on her way back down. She passed the dusty Jeep on her way to her rental car, assuming it belonged to the SAR woman. She paused, looking at the neat interior. It suited her, the woman with the wind-blown hair.

Opening the window on her own car as she drove, Jessie let the cool breeze hit her face, drying the sweat from her hike. It had felt good to use muscles that were dormant too long. And it had felt good to cry, she admitted. The hardest part would be facing Annie.

If she could even manage it. She wondered what Annie would be like after sixteen years. She wondered if she had gone and married that man in San Francisco. Probably. Annie may not even be in Sierra City anymore. Wouldn't that be ironic? She finally got up enough nerve to come back and Annie wouldn't even be here. On impulse, she pulled into the gas station and walked up to the phone booth, flipping through the directory. Her fingers found the S's and she held her breath, pausing at Stone, Annie. So, she was still here after all. Jessie closed the book and walked away, her heart hammering in her chest.

She made a sandwich for lunch and chased it down with a glass of wine, then lay on the sofa, letting sleep take her. She had not slept well the night before and she was a little tired after her hike. She would have plenty of time to decide about Annie, she thought as she drifted away.

Chris followed the Ridge Trail loop, enjoying the quiet of the weekday. She had met no one since encountering Jessie Stone that morning and figured she would not. Friday, the tourists would begin showing up and by Saturday, there would again be people on the trails, trying to leave the city behind for at least the weekend. She passed the cutoff to Lake Trail and continued down the hill to her Jeep. She was tired and wanted a shower, glad she had worn shorts that morning instead of jeans. But they still clung to her now and she pulled her shirt out, letting the cool air hit her bare waist.

On her way past the trailhead marker, out of habit she lifted the sign-in box and glanced at it, wondering if anyone had gone up after her. Jennifer Parker? Chris smiled. Who was she kidding? Then she laughed. The woman was still flirting, even on the sign-in sheet.

Chris passed her road and went on to the office where Ruth Henninger would be. Maybe Jessie Stone was staying at the cabins. It would be much more private than the lodge and she apparently was looking for seclusion, judging by the alias she used.

Ruth came out to meet her, as Chris assumed she did everyone. She slammed the Jeep door and walked up.

"Good afternoon, Miss Henninger," Chris greeted.

"Oh, please, I've told you, it's just plain Ruth." She turned and beckoned Chris to follow. "Come inside. I have fresh baked cookies, Chris."

At least once a week, Chris stopped by, just to chat. She suspected that Ruth looked forward to her visits now.

"You look hot. Want some iced tea?"

"That sounds great, thanks." Chris sat at the table and took a cookie, still hot from the oven.

"How are all die rangers doing, dear?" Ruth asked, as she always did.

"They're fine," Chris answered, as she usually did.

"How do you like that Robert?"

Robert Hatcher. Chris had to force a smile onto her face. He was probably one of the most handsome men Chris had ever seen. He had been with Roger a little over a year but few liked him. He rarely worked the trails, usually making some excuse or other about staying inside or having urgent paperwork to finish. He pretended to tolerate her, but still, Chris had little use for him. She detested laziness.

"I don't get to see him much," Chris said. "He doesn't get out on the trails a lot."

"Now he's a handsome one, with that moustache of his. I saw him at the grocery store. What about Matt?"

"I like him fine," Chris said. "What's with the questions?"

"Well, a woman your age, you need to be dating. I would hate to see you end up like me, an old maid."

Chris laughed, drawing a smile from Ruth. "I'm serious. And don't tell me they haven't asked you. As pretty as you are, they're probably banging your door down." Then she leaned closer to Chris. "A little too skinny, though, Chris. Men like to have a little to hold on to."

Chris laughed again. "Thanks, but I'm not looking for a man, Ruth."

"Women nowadays, think they have to be so independent. I declare, in my day, we wanted a man to take care of us."

"What happened to you, then?"

"I guess I scared them off, what with having a business to run and all," she said wistfully, staring out the back door.

"And how is business, Ruth?"

"Oh, the cabins are full on the weekends, that's all. Now that school has started up again, the families have all gone home. Had a new one come in yesterday, though."

"Really?" Chris asked.

"Pretty girl. Alone, too. I put her up at number seven. She was looking for a secluded place, just like you. Why you young women want to be by yourselves so far back in the woods, I'll never know."

"Number seven? That's across the stream from me, isn't it?" Chris asked innocently.

"Yes, through the woods. Her name is Jennifer Parker. She looked so familiar to me, but she said she'd not been here before."

Yes, Ruth would have known Jessie as a young girl, Chris supposed. No wonder she didn't use her real name.

Chapter Eleven

It was two days later before Chris saw Jessie Stone again. Wednesday morning on her way to the Rock to meet Roger for breakfast, she saw the lone figure jogging ahead of her. She recognized the short, dark hair immediately and she slowed, watching the tan, muscular legs keeping a beat as Jessie methodically pounded the dirt, arms pumping at her sides. With intentions of driving past without stopping, Chris nonetheless slowed. When Jessie looked up and grinned, Chris found herself stopping and waiting.

"Morning," Jessie breathed, wiping the sweat from her brow. She leaned on the Jeep's door to catch her breath and Chris was surprised at her nervousness as she stared back at Jessie Stone.

"Hi," Chris greeted. "Been at it long?"

Jessie laughed. "About fifteen years."

Chris blushed. "I meant this morning," she clarified.

"I know you did. About thirty minutes. Thirty more to go." Then Jessie straightened and rested her hands on her hips, offering Chris a genuine smile. "Did you get my message on the trailhead?"

Chris smiled back. "Yes. Glad you made it out safely, Jennifer Parker."

Jessie shrugged. "Well, I had no choice. I would hate to have gotten lost or something and have them send some man to find me since you were already out on the trails."

Chris pressed her foot down, stirring the motor just a little before answering. "I'm sure they would have radioed me and I'd have rushed back down to save you."

Jessie showed off even, white teeth as she laughed. "Well, it would have been my lucky day then."

Chris only nodded, deciding that this game had gone on long enough for now. She shifted the Jeep into first gear. "Gotta go."

"Going to work?"

"Breakfast. Then work."

"Rock House?"

"Yep."

"Any good?"

Chris laughed. "If you like greasy food, I guess."

Jessie leaned down and stared into her eyes, making Chris catch her breath. "And do you?"

"Sometimes."

Jessie stood up again, away from Chris. "Well, it's a start."

Chris was wondering if they were still talking about food, but she was afraid to ask, so she pulled away.

"Seeya."

"Hey," Jessie called after her. "What's your name?"

"McKenna," Chris said, driving off. She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror, then grinned at the flushed face looking back at her. Shifting into fourth, she thought she might be out of her league with Jessie Stone. All flirting aside, she still suspected that J. T. Stone had major problems. Or Jennifer Parker, whoever she was pretending to be today.

Jessie jogged down to the trailhead of Elk Meadow, then slowed to a fast walk as she entered the woods, smiling to herself as she passed the sign-in sheet without writing down her name. She looked up at the blue sky. Yes, that was exactly the color of the woman's eyes. McKenna. She had a nice smile, too, Jessie admitted. And if she were honest with herself, she would admit that the little game of seek and conquer that she usually played was not working on this McKenna woman. Jessie wasn't even sure she wanted it to work anymore. She suspected that this McKenna was a nice person and if she were in the habit of making friends, she might make one of McKenna. But she had no friends. She had no relationships of any kind in her life, save the seek-and-conquer types she saw once and then never again.

Jessie looked once more to the sky, thinking you could tell a lot from a person's eyes. Warm, friendly blue eyes. She went back to her walk, wondering if she would ever see those eyes again.

Chris watched the steam rise from her coffee cup and contemplated telling Roger that Jessie Stone was back. But it really wasn't any of her business. Jessie obviously didn't want anyone to know or she wouldn't be using an alias, so Chris kept quiet.

"What are you going to eat?" Roger asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"I think I'll just have toast this morning."

"She eats like a bird," he told Margaret, who was waiting patiently for their orders. "Let me have the pork chop with scrambled eggs. Extra hash browns. We know McKenna will be stealing off my plate."

Chris ignored him and sipped from her coffee.

"Awful quiet this morning," he commented.

"Just tired, I guess."

"Hmmm. By the way, Matt has a crush on you," he said.

"I know."

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"He must know I'm gay. What else can I do?"

"Might have been easier to tell him you've got some guy back at Yosemite," Roger suggested.

"Nope. I'm not going to hide, Roger. You know me better than that."

"Yeah. But Mart's a good guy. I hate to see him following you around like a puppy dog."

"He does not. Bobby follows me around like a puppy dog."

Roger laughed. "Yeah. Bobby's got a bad case of hero worship."

"But, I really like Matt, you know. I wish we could be friends and not worry about all that other bullshit."

"Speaking of," Roger said, nodding toward the door.

Matt walked to their table, his long hair tied in the familiar pony-tail.

"Morning McKenna, Roger."

"Hey, Matt," Chris said. "What's going on?"

"Roger's got us assigned to the South Rim today."

"Horses?" she asked as she glared at Roger.

Roger smiled sweetly at her. "Got two different groups of backpackers out there. Fifteen total. They're taking the trail up from Tahoe. They should be in our area today or tomorrow, so I thought we'd keep a lookout. They left Tahoe on Saturday."

"You know those backpackers don't want us baby-sitting them, Roger," she said, already hating the idea.

"A lot could have happened between Saturday and now, McKenna. Besides, it's not like we're swamped up here and can't take the time."

"You could have told me this yesterday," she complained. "Now I've got to go back and get my pack."

"If I'd told you this yesterday, then I would have had to listen to you complain for two damn days."

"It'll be fun, McKenna. We'll get to camp out. I'll meet you at the stables." Matt left them with a wave and Chris again glared at Roger.

"Thanks a lot," she said dryly.

"I didn't want Matt out alone that far and Robert is... well Robert's allergic to horses or something," Roger explained.

"Robert Hatcher is about as worthless as they come, Roger. Matt works his butt off around here and Hatcher sits on his ass acting all important-like in the office, ordering the maintenance guys around like he's the boss. And Matt's been here three goddamn years longer. Hell, I do more around here than Hatcher and I'm SAR."

"Calm down, McKenna. Hell, I know he's worthless, you think I'm blind."

"Then why does he get away with it?" she demanded.

"It's just politics, McKenna. His daddy is some big shot in Washington and his grandfather was some big shot with the department back in his day and that's just the way it goes. Besides, Hatcher moves around a lot. Every couple of years, he requests a transfer, so I figure we'll make it as unpleasant as possible for him and he'll move on and then we can get someone else. Maybe get Bobby hired on."

"Well that's the best news I've heard. Bobby is much more than a volunteer around here."

"Yes, I know. And we take advantage of his willingness to help but that's partly his fault, too."

Chris stood and fished a couple bills out of her pocket, pausing long enough to steal a mouthful of hash browns from Roger's plate.

"Gotta keep up my strength." Then she winked. "See you later. I'll radio when we hook up with the hikers."

"Yeah. And McKenna, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you do. I warned you your SAR duties would be limited and I'd have you helping out all over the place."

"Roger, I love the quiet here. I wouldn't trade it for Yosemite even if you had me cleaning bathrooms."

"Well, as long as we still have a budget for maintenance, I'll keep you out of the bathrooms. Now get going. Don't keep Matt waiting."

Chris drove back to her cabin to get her pack. She always kept it loaded and ready to go, just in case. She added a couple more freeze-dried dinners and filled the water bottles. Anytime she went out on the South Rim Trail, she packed enough for several nights. Rummaging in the fridge, she found an apple that was salvageable and some cheese. She grabbed a package of crackers. It would have to do.

"Sorry, fella, but you're on your own," she said to Dillon. She filled his food bowl up and scratched under his chin for a second. "Don't eat it all the first day."

Ten minutes later, she was saddling her horse while Matt checked the charge on their radios.

Jessie sat on her porch that evening, listening for the owls. She had not heard the piano music since that first night and she wondered why. As she filled her wineglass again, she thought of Annie. She had been putting it off, she knew. It was the reason she had come here in the first place, to see Annie. Not to hike the trails and meet new people and pretend she was on vacation. She knew Dr. Davies was right. If she was to ever find peace in her life, she would have to talk it out with Annie, get some things off her chest, find the closure to that chapter of her life and attempt to make a life of her own after all these years. Dr. Davies had said she could call if she needed. At the time, it sounded like a great idea and something to fall back on should things get rough. But she felt fine, really. Even the prospect of seeing Annie was not nearly as frightening as it had been. Maybe she would stop seeing Dr. Davies. Maybe she would feel like a whole new person when this was all over with.

She looked to the sky, still pleasantly surprised to be able to see the stars. It had been too many years of searching for them from her apartment balcony for the stars to be familiar to her now. As her eyes scanned the sky, she thought of McKenna and wondered where she lived. And with whom. She unexpectedly thought of her father then, remembering all the evenings he would be called away to look for a lost hiker, the days before search and rescue. She would beg him to let her go along, but he always made her stay, saying one lost hiker was enough. Of course, she knew the trails better than he did.

McKenna? Why did the woman intrigue her so? Perhaps because she had so blatantly ignored Jessie's attempts at seduction. Few women said no. In fact, Jessie couldn't remember the last. Well, she had never been one to pass up a challenge.

Chris and Matt sat around the campfire eating their instant dinners and drinking coffee. Their horses were tied nearby and their tents glowed in the dim light, a backdrop for their shadows that danced in the red embers each time the wind blew.

She felt him watching her but she ignored him, poking instead into the fire. She really did like him and wanted nothing more than for them to be friends. And maybe she was reading too much into it. First Bobby, now Roger telling her that Matt wanted more than friendship, she took everything to mean more than it was. Maybe Matt simply enjoyed her company as much as she did his.

"Can I ask you something, McKenna?"

"Of course." Here it comes, she thought.

"Well, I need some advice. On women," he added.

She cleared her throat. "On women?"

"Well, I mean, you are one and you date them, right?"

It was with difficulty that she swallowed the coffee she had just sipped. Again she cleared her throat. "Well, I do know women, yes."

"It's Donna, at the Rock," he explained. "I mean, I've been here four years now. I've always liked her but she treats me like her pal. You know, like you and me."

Chris nodded, thinking how very ironic this conversation was turning out.

"I've seen her through a terrible marriage and now a divorce and still, she talks to me as if we're just buddies."

"But you're attracted to her?" Chris asked.

"Yeah. I mean, surely she knows. I talk to her all the time."

"Matt, you talk to everyone all the time. I've been to the Rock with you. You make the rounds, you know nearly everyone there, why would she think she's special?"

"I've stayed there past closing before, just talking with her. She's confided in me, I've confided in her. I mean, we are friends, but I want it to progress to the next level and I don't think she knows that."

"Matt, it is very rare for men and women to be friends. I mean, especially straight men and women. And it's just because there is always that sexual undertone lurking. Maybe she's felt safe with you, because she didn't think you were interested in her that way and she's allowed a friendship to build between you. Maybe she sees you treating her the same way you treat everyone. As friends. Maybe she sees you there with me and thinks something's up with us. Who knows?"

He shook his head. "No, McKenna, everyone knows which way you lean."

Chris stared at him. "Everyone? It's not like I have a girlfriend or anything."

"Can we deal with me first?" he asked.

She laughed then and he joined in and she felt herself really relaxing around him for the first time.

"You know, Matt, I really like you. I was actually afraid you wanted... well, that you thought we could be more than friends."

"Oh, come on, McKenna, surely you didn't buy into Bobby's matchmaking?"

"No, of course not," she lied. "It's just that we've never talked about it, you know. And I do like going to the Rock and having a beer with you and not having to worry about anything."

"Me, too." Then he nudged her shoulder. "But back to my problem. How should I approach this with Donna?"

Chris laughed, relieved that they finally had everything out in the open. "I would probably invite her over to my place for dinner, which I have elegantly prepared myself. A nice bottle of wine, maybe fresh flowers on the table, some quiet music. But don't lose what's brought you together in the first place." At his raised eyebrows, she continued. "Your friendship. If it's a nice evening, you might sit outside and just talk. Don't leap directly from friendship to dating, Matt. Make it subtle. Let her know that things don't have to change between you just because you start dating. And don't rush things. Have a nice dinner and when it's time to end things, a soft kiss, just to let her know that it wasn't just two buddies having dinner."

"What if she doesn't want me to kiss her? I mean, what if she really only does want a friendship?"

Chris shrugged. "Maybe she's not thought of the possibility of anything else. It may take her time to readjust her feelings, Matt. Like I said, don't rush things. Start doing things together, outside of meeting at the Rock, just the two of you. Get to know each other on another level."

"You know, all of this sounds really good, but I'm not exactly a great cook," he said. "I may run her off just by preparing the meal."

"I'd offer to help, but if I could cook, I wouldn't spend damn near every night eating Dave's crap."

Matt was silent for a moment, then looked up and waited until Chris looked at him. "You know, Hatcher's been talking to her a lot lately. He never paid her the time of day before, but it's like he knows I'm interested so he's making this some kind of competition."

"Hatcher is a bastard. And people around here know it. I wouldn't worry about him, Matt."

"Yeah, but women just fall all over him."

"Hell, you look at him from a distance and he's gorgeous. I'll be the first to admit he's one of the most handsome men I've ever met. But you get close and look into his eyes and they're just empty. And then you get to know him and find out what a bastard he is and you really know the meaning of 'beauty is only skin deep.'"

"You're probably right."

"Can you name one person around here who he's friends with?"

Matt shook his head. "No. He usually eats alone when he comes to the Rock. Other than flirting with the women there, he doesn't really talk to anyone."

Chris slapped his shoulder once. "Right. So don't worry about him, will you?"

They sat in silence awhile longer, one of them occasionally stirring the fire but they were both lost in thought. Chris let her mind drift to Jessie Stone, wondering what she was doing tonight. Sitting alone in her cabin, thinking of her father, no doubt. Or Annie. Why did she really come back here?

It was early afternoon the next day when they came upon the backpackers. The two groups had joined up and all were accounted for. The only problem was an annoying blister one of the women had developed and Chris offered to wrap it for her. Matt radioed Roger and they headed back, leaving the backpackers to finish their hike alone, but only after Matt had sufficiently teased Chris. The woman with the blister was a cutie and she had scribbled her name and phone number down and shyly slipped it into Chris's pocket.

At twilight, they were still some six miles from the trailhead, so they camped again, this time near the creek. They fell asleep listening to the water softly tumble over the rocks and down into the canyon. Chris thought it was the most peaceful night's sleep she'd had in weeks.

They took their time over breakfast the next morning, making it back to the station by noon. She and Matt gladly accepted Roger's offer of an afternoon off, even though the weekend crowds were starting to come into town.

"Ellen's cooking tonight. Why don't you come over?" Roger offered.

"No, thanks. I think I'll stay in and keep Dillon company. Maybe next time."

Chris was tired after two days on horseback and two nights sleeping on the ground. She took a long, hot shower and for the first time, wished there was still a tub. A long soak would do wonders. She was drying off when her cell phone rang and she walked naked into the kitchen to answer.

"McKenna," she said.

"It's Annie. I missed you last night."

"Oh, Annie, I completely forgot. We were out on the South Rim the last two nights. I just got back today."

"Is everything okay? Anyone hurt?"

"No, no. We were just checking on some backpackers coming from Tahoe." She changed ears as she walked back into the bathroom to finish drying off. "Listen, can we make it tonight?"

"Of course. As long as you don't mind leftovers."

"Annie, your leftovers are better than my cooking any day," she said. "I'll be there at six."

Chris hoped Annie didn't bring up Jessie tonight. If there was one person Chris wanted to tell about Jessie being in town, it was Annie. She parked in her usual spot under the juniper and went inside after a brief knock. She had been joining Annie for dinner at least once a week, sometimes twice, ever since Roger had introduced them. She looked forward to their visits and the chance to eat a good vegetarian meal that was something other than Dave's surprises or her own pitiful attempt at cooking.

"Chris, I'm back here."

Chris now knew that was her studio. Annie had two walls knocked out of a corner room and glass installed and it offered her great views of the mountains and trees around her home. She did most of her painting there. Chris made her way back, exclaiming over how much Annie had finished in the last week.

"You're almost done," she said, inspecting the painting Annie was working on. It was of Sierra Peak, the most prominent landmark in the area. It was to be a gift for her.

"Not quite. A few more days, perhaps."

"It's beautiful, Annie." Annie told her that she had never given one of her paintings away and Chris was honored to be the first.

"Thank you, Chris, but I sometimes wonder at your judgment. You like the one I did of the elk and we both know they look more like cattle than elk," she said and they both laughed.

Before dinner, they took their wine to the back deck and watched the squirrels. Annie asked about the backpackers and Chris rattled on, bringing Annie up to date with the happenings in town, all the while keeping Jessie's name at bay. It wasn't until after dinner that Annie brought her up.

"I got my monthly newsletter from the book club and Jessie will have a new one out by Christmas."

"Really?"

"This will be number seven, by my count."

"I've only read four," Chris said.

They were quiet for a moment, then Annie said, "You know, sometimes I have half a mind to just call her up. If I thought it would do any good, I would. But I'm sure she's working through sixteen years of built-up hatred. Maybe if I ever get one of her books where the mother doesn't die, I might take a chance."

"I wish you could, too, Annie. It shouldn't be this way between families."

"What about your own? You've never mentioned them."

Chris grinned. "We don't exactly speak."

"And you're giving me advice? Shame on you."

Chapter Twelve

On her way to the Rock the next morning, Chris again passed Jessie jogging and again she stopped.

"Where have you been?" Jessie demanded as she leaned on the Jeep's door.

"South Rim Trail, in the backcountry."

"Searching for?" Jessie prompted, a grin slashing across her face.

"Backpackers."

"Find them?"

"Of course." Chris thought Jessie was much prettier than her picture revealed, if that were possible. Her eyes weren't quite as lifeless in person.

"You're not working today, are you?"

"Yep."

"It's Saturday."

"My turn," Chris explained.

Jessie nodded. "Where will you be?"

"I'm in the office this morning. Then I'll just be making the rounds, probably end up at Lake Trail this afternoon."

"Maybe I'll see you there, McKenna. I've been wanting to get in a little fishing."

With that she ran on and Chris watched, her eyes lighting on the back of muscled thighs. She finally realized she was still sitting in the middle of the road and she drove off, honking once as she passed Jessie.

After a quick lunch of cheese and crackers, Chris filled her water bottle and headed out to Lake Trail. The ranger station had been busy that morning and she knew that Lake Trail was the easiest and therefore, would be the most crowded. The cabins were full for the weekend, as was the lodge. Bill and Peggy had rented out all of their bikes and the dirt roads around town were crowded with hikers and mountain bikers alike. The beautiful late summer weather continued, bringing with it people from the city yearning for the outdoors. She stopped at the trailhead, glancing at the sign-in sheet. Six people in one group; there goes the wildlife, she thought. Another two; bird watchers. They should've started earlier. A group of four, two of them kids. Jennifer Parker. Chris smiled and looked up. Fishing? Two other names were listed below, but Chris scarcely noticed as she closed the lid and headed off down the trail. She hadn't expected Jessie to be here already. She had planned on making Lake Trail her last stop but because of the crowd, she thought she better make a quick run through before heading out to Fire Lookout.

It was almost a half-mile to the lake, then the trail followed the shore and connected back to the start, about two miles total. The Lake Trail cutoff, which hooked up with Ridge Trail, was about a mile into the hike. She walked briskly, coming upon an older couple with a poodle on a leash. She nodded and smiled, then barely got out of the way as the poodle decided to attack. She rolled her eyes as the couple pulled the barking poodle down the trail, disrupting the quiet of the lake for miles around.

Chris kept an eye out along the shore. She spotted Jessie at the first turn, standing by herself out on the point, expertly casting a fly rod. She watched for several minutes before walking up.

"Any luck?"

Jessie turned around and smiled. "Hi, McKenna. I'm afraid not. And I was hoping for fresh trout for my dinner."

"Then the luck's all with the fish," Chris said.

"And here I was going to invite you to dinner."

Chris laughed. "Please don't kill one on my account."

Jessie cocked her head and frowned. "Don't like fish?"

Chris shook her head. "I'm more of a vegetable person."

"Good Lord, a vegetarian? I thought I left them all behind in the city," she said.

"I manage."

"So, you want to come?" Jessie asked.

"Come where?"

"Dinner?"

"Where?"

"Cabin seven," Jessie said, her back still to Chris.

"Henninger's?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Six-thirty?"

Chris looked around at the crowds and shook her head. "Seven?"

"Fine. I'll have the first glass of wine without you."

Jessie turned around and their eyes met for a moment, then Chris motioned to the trail with a quick toss of her head.

"Better go."

"McKenna?"

Chris stopped and looked back. "Yeah?"

"What's your first name?" Jessie asked, again capturing her eyes.

"Chris."

Jessie nodded. "I like it." Then she turned back to her fly fishing, leaving Chris staring after her.

It took Chris longer than normal to make the loop as she stopped several times to answer questions and offer suggestions on other hiking trails. She stopped on her way past the point, but Jessie was already gone. At the trailhead, Jessie had signed out just like she was supposed to. Chris laughed at her comment. "No fish died today!"

Chris ran into Bobby later and sent him on Ridge Trail as she took the route up Fire Lookout Trail. There was a large group at the top, all enjoying the view without the benefit of the tower. Since the incident this summer with the two boys, Roger had the steps taken down and new warning signs put up, and they'd not had a bit of trouble.

She spent a little time up at the top, answering questions and just enjoying the views herself before heading back down the mountain, using the shortcut Bobby had shown her.

It wasn't until she was driving home that she realized she had intentionally put Jessie Stone from her mind. She tried to ask herself why exactly she was going to dinner with her, and she had no answer other than she found Jessie attractive and she would be the first to admit that she was extremely curious about this woman's life. And her sudden return to Sierra City. But she just couldn't shake the feeling that she was betraying Annie somehow.

After her shower, she took time to relax on the deck with a cold beer. It had been a busy day and she was feeling the effects of her afternoon hikes. Dillon was attempting to sneak up on a squirrel and she watched him for a moment. Then her eyes traveled on into the woods, thinking it would be so much quicker just to walk to Jessie's cabin. But more polite to drive. It wasn't as if they knew each other well enough for such informal visits.

At a quarter to seven, she picked out one of her few remaining bottles of wine and with a quick pat on Dillon's head, was gone. She drove slowly, enjoying the evening. The days were getting shorter, she noted. And cooler. Wouldn't be long before the snows came and she would trade her hiking boots for snowshoes and skis.

She enjoyed the winter, if only because it allowed a slowdown from the hectic summer. Of course, search and rescue took on a whole new meaning in the snow. And instead of quiet nights on the deck, she would spend quiet evenings in front of the fire.

She found Jessie's cabin without difficulty and parked next to the rental car. She had a long-sleeved T-shirt tucked into jeans and had opted for white athletic shoes instead of her usual hiking boots. She knocked on the door and waited until she heard Jessie call for her.

"I'm back here."

Chris grinned. How many times had she heard Annie yell out those very words to her? She was standing in the kitchen counting the bottles of wine on the counter when Jessie came in from the deck. Eleven bottles. Seems she and Annie had something else in common.

"You certainly didn't have to bring anything," Jessie said. "Least of all wine." She smiled warmly at Chris. "I'm glad you came."