Triple Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel. Kelly Rysten

your tent, your sleeping bag?”

      “I’ve got that stuff in the Jeep.”

      “Are you sure you’ll be okay for three days?”

      “I’m sure I won’t be in any danger.”

      “I really wish you’d tell me where you’re going.”

      “It doesn’t have an address.”

      “I could follow you.”

      “Not if I don’t want to be found. I’d lose you in five minutes. Like Crocodile Dundee. I’m there, and the next thing you know, I’m gone.”

      “Does that mean you don’t want to be found? I’ve been at this for a while.”

      I thought for a second before answering, “When I want to be found I’ll take you there, but right now you have work to do and I have to stay out of the way. I’ll be back. It’s the only place I have left, so there’s no point in worrying about where it is.”

      I took a shower and changed into camouflage pants, a khaki t-shirt and moccasins. No fingerprint search in my bedroom. It had been locked. All the bedroom doors had been knocked in during the search for Silva.

      Walking outside, I looked longingly at the Jeep. I’d rather take the Jeep than the Roadster. I wasn’t comfortable leaving Jack’s car in the woods.

      Nobody touched the Jeep. It blended in. Just like me, my Jeep was at home in the woods. I didn’t have that assurance with the sports car. It begged to be stolen.

      “Can I take the Jeep? I really would feel better if I had the Jeep.”

      Michaels conferred with the team investigating my house. They checked a note pad. They knew it was the getaway car.

      “Yeah, you can take the Jeep.”

      “Silva gave Oscar two days to show. I’ll check back in three.”

      Shadow jumped into the Jeep. I held up Michaels’ card, then stuck it in my pocket.

      “You be careful,” he called as I drove away.

Chapter 3

      This wasn’t a good time to be heading for my camp. Night had already fallen and it took a little over an hour to reach Creekside Campground. It then took three hours to hike in. I headed east until I reached Millerton Road, took Route 138 east, then took the first turn off onto Route 2. This brought me up into the mountains and forty-five minutes later I was parked at Creekside Campground. I put the fourteen dollar camping fee into the drop box, hung my Adventure Pass on the Jeep’s rearview mirror then pulled my sleeping bag out from the back. I tended to disappear like this at a moments notice so I kept the pack and the sleeping bag in the Jeep, ready to go. I only took a tent if I was going somewhere else. I walked Shadow around a bit, popped the passenger seat back flat so he would have a bed and locked him in the Jeep. He used to sleep on the ground under the table, but after being attacked by raccoons he now slept in the car at night. I unrolled the sleeping bag on top of the picnic table and climbed in. I didn’t know what time it was and I didn’t care. I’d had a full day.

      In the morning I woke up with the sun. I loved mornings in the mountains. The campground was always filled with the chatter of birds. That’s one thing I missed by hiking to my camp. The Stellars Jays, Gray Jays, sparrows and finches all seemed to prefer the campground where they could count on finding people food. Only the truly wild birds were found at my camp. I rolled up my sleeping bag, stuffed it in the Jeep again and drove down to the trailhead.

      The trail out of Creekside Campground follows a pleasant little stream for several miles. After two miles, another stream flows into it, and this was where I left the trail. I climbed a rugged canyon, sometimes rock climbing, other times hiking. I crossed a few meadows and inched my way up short rocky cliffs. Eventually I reached a tall pine tree and a flat rock overlooking the creek and I was home; my home in the wilds. Shadow tagged along beside me. He always finds his own way up. Maybe I’d have had an easier time of it if I’d followed him, but I’d developed my own route and he’d developed his. He seems to know where we are going and occasionally he will beat me there and be sitting on the flat rock when I arrive. I ate trail mix and beef jerky as I hiked and when I got to camp, there was a stash of food in an ammo box.

      Even from the flat rock the camp can’t be seen. The small area looks like a flash flood hit months ago. Two trees fell between two standing trees resulting in a perfect place to make a tent. I brought a huge tarp up one summer and anchored it over the two fallen trees. I cleared the floor area making it flat and smooth, then I covered the whole thing with branches. The forest grew up over it and now it just looks like a very wild patch of forest. There is no door. I lift a flap of tarp, usually having to search around a bit for it, and slide in. The inside is watertight and cozy. I keep a sleeping bag, my ammo box of food, several books, a fluorescent lantern, a large jug for water, and a tiny one-burner camp stove inside. My food cache is for three days, but I have stayed here for 10 days before living off the land part of that time. I like it up here. It is a rugged, lonely outpost. I have never seen another person up the canyon this far. Once I get about a quarter mile off the trail, the tourists seem to fade away.

      Shadow and I have great fun up here. In the meadow, we play a stalking game. When the deer are in the meadow, we see how close we can get to them. Shadow creeps forward like a cat and when the deer look up he freezes. I do the same thing. One time I came close enough to touch a deer, but then Shadow appeared and the deer bolted, almost taking my head off in a jump of fright. The trouble is, Shadow tends to think of the deer as sheep and I tend to think of then as family. Skittish family, but always welcome in my neck of the woods.

      Sometimes Shadow and I play hide and seek. I put him in a down stay and take off. I release him and he searches. He always finds me eventually, but not until I ease up and make myself visible. He is definitely a sight oriented dog.

      Up here, life swells around me and the cares of the valley begin to melt away. The memory of Silva and Oscar was fading. The memory of Michaels, on the other hand, refused to fade. Every time I turned around, I wanted to show him something, a funny animal, how to set up a snare to catch dinner, a birdcall I had never been able to identify. That was strange, because even Jack had never been here. This was a place I went to be alone.

      I hiked up the canyon, trying to enjoy the outdoors. The canyon got more rugged as I went upstream. More rock climbing and less hiking. There were little tumble down waterfalls and shady nooks in the rocks to stop and rest in. The water was frigid. It was snowmelt from the very tops of the mountain peaks.

      When I got back to camp I fixed one of the backpacker dinners. I boiled some water on the tiny stove, then added it to a pouch of dehydrated food and waited. Beef stroganoff. Yummy. Backpacker food wasn’t my favorite but I was used to it. My favorite meal to eat up here was teriyaki steak. I’d mix up brown sugar, soy sauce and ginger in a mayonnaise jar, stuff a semi-frozen steak in and hike while it marinated. I always pictured all the doctors and dieticians out there cringing. I pictured my mother telling me I was going to die of food poisoning out in the mountains somewhere. When I got to camp I’d cook the steak over a campfire. It’s the best steak in the world. Today, backpacker food would do. It fit my lousy mood.

      I found myself moping. This was the pits. Usually my camp was a place of refuge for me, but today it felt like a prison. Tomorrow I’d hike out and drive around in the mountains, maybe spend a night in one of the other campgrounds. Maybe Oscar had already made his appearance. Maybe he and Silva were safely locked up, waiting for trial. Perhaps I should consider heading back to town. It’s not like I would be in danger there. I just couldn’t go home. I had to admit though, another night on a picnic table held more appeal than a hotel.

      After dinner, I laid down on the flat rock beside the stream, listening to the water rushing past. This was no burbling brook. This water was in a hurry and it was a steep downhill tumble all the way to the valley floor. I watched the stars come out. It was pitch black and I counted the constellations