Mountain Rampage. Scott Graham

the rocky crest to join them.

NINE

      Chuck’s phone pinged several times to announce incoming texts when the van reentered service range on the way back to the resort. Throughout the van, phones dinged and chimed, prompting the students to stop talking to one another and set their thumbs to work.

      Chuck pulled the van to a stop at Raven House fifteen minutes later. The students grouped at the rear door to retrieve their packs, then stood with their packs in hand, waiting for Chuck to address them.

      Chuck slipped between the students to the rear of the van, grabbed his pack, and backed away a few steps. What was there to say?

      His eyes roamed from old, rundown Raven House with its warped, clapboard exterior to new, stucco Falcon House capped by its shiny, green metal roof. Between the two buildings, amid tufts of buffalo grass, he spotted the shallow divot dug by the police the night before to gather the blood that had soaked into the ground.

      Someone knew something about Clarence’s knife and the human blood, and that someone was either one of the students standing before him, or one of the Falcon House employees.

      Who might it be? He hadn’t a clue.

      He glanced across the fields toward the cabin. Janelle’s glare as he’d left this morning had made clear the risk he’d taken in heading to the mine with the students so soon after Rosie’s seizure. He assumed Rosie hadn’t suffered a relapse today because he’d gotten no voicemails or texts from Janelle—though the absence of any of her usual, chatty messages was a bad enough sign by itself.

      When they realized Chuck had nothing to say, the students turned and headed up the walk to Raven House. Chuck slung his pack over his shoulder and motioned Clarence and Kirina to his side.

      “Stick close to the dorm,” he told them. “I want to know who’s talking to who, whether anybody’s acting shady.”

      A corner of Kirina’s mouth drew up. “Acting shady?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can tell you one thing. Whatever this is, no one from Team Nugget is involved. My girls aren’t thieves, and they’re not knife-wielding maniacs either.”

      Clarence declared, “My guys aren’t involved either. I’m sure of it.”

      Breaking the students into two work teams had been Clarence’s idea. Chuck had expected problems when the students had self-selected their teams along gender lines. To his surprise, however, the members of the two teams had gotten along well with each other at the mine and during their off hours throughout the summer.

      “Nobody’s accusing anybody of anything at this point,” Chuck said. “Just keep your eyes open, okay? Both of you.”

      He hurried across the fields, past the lodge and conference center, and up the curving drive through the woods to the cabin. He owed Professor Sartore a call, but Rosie took priority—as did squaring things with Janelle.

      He released his bottled-up breath when he saw the pickup still parked where he’d left it upon returning from the hospital the night before. But a vehicle he didn’t recognize—a rugged SUV with a Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation sticker on its bumper and a mountain bike attached to a rack on its roof—was parked next to the truck. Janelle opened the cabin’s front screen door as Chuck approached, allowing Gregory, the young doctor from the emergency room, to step onto the wooden deck ahead of her.

      Gregory hailed Chuck from the uncovered porch with a wave and a wide smile. “Yo, dude.”

      Chuck stopped at the bottom of the short flight of stairs leading to the deck. “Hey.”

      Janelle, trailing Gregory out the door, came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Chuck. “Gregory called and asked if he could make a house call,” she explained.

      Gregory flipped his blond hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. “I finished my shift. Figured I’d swing by, make sure Rosie was cool.”

      Chuck’s eyes went from the young doctor to Janelle and back. He addressed Gregory, keeping his voice even. “I take it everything’s…cool?”

      Janelle spoke first. “I told him she was doing fine when he called.”

      Gregory shrugged. “I got a few hours of shut-eye last night, after you guys left. Usually I go straight home and hit the sack at the end of my shifts.”

      Chuck knew he should say something appreciative. Unlike the doctor, however, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Besides, his appreciation would be expressed through his payment of the medical bill.

      “Guess I’ll get going then,” Gregory said when Chuck didn’t speak. The young physician turned and pointed a friendly finger at Rosie and Carmelita, who stood together behind the screen door. “Glad to see you doing so well, Rosie. And you, Carmelita, take good care of your little sister for me, okay?”

      “Okay,” Carmelita said with a shy smile before looking at her feet.

      Chuck stood aside to allow Gregory to descend the stairs. When the doctor was well down the drive in his SUV, Chuck climbed the steps to Janelle and summoned a smile. “She’s really doing okay, huh?”

      Janelle rigidly accepted a peck on the cheek. He turned at the sound of pounding feet to see Rosie hurtling herself across the porch at him.

      “Chuck!” she cried, diving into his arms. “I’m all better now. I’m the bestest ever.”

      Chuck lifted her and settled her on his hip, her legs dangling past his knees. “You are, are you?” He looked to Janelle for confirmation.

      “She slept late this morning,” Janelle said. “She’s been her usual, rip-roaring self since lunchtime. It’s all I’ve been able to do to get her to stay inside and take it easy.”

      Chuck lowered Rosie to the porch and crouched to speak to her and Carmelita, who had trailed Rosie onto the deck. “Why don’t you two rip-roar back inside. Your mamá and I will be along in a minute.”

      Rosie followed Carmelita into the cabin. Chuck tossed his pack on one of the plastic deck chairs arrayed on the porch and motioned Janelle to follow him down the steps. He dropped the truck tailgate and took a seat on it. She hoisted herself up beside him.

      He allowed the quiet of the surrounding forest to sink in, the only sound the call and response of a pair of magpies flitting from branch to branch through the ponderosa trees above their heads.

      Janelle turned to him. “Where do we start?”

      “She’s really okay?”

      “She’s sniffling a little, but it’s pretty much gone, like the doctor said.”

      “Gregory,” Chuck said, an unintended edge to his voice.

      “We’re talking about Rosie,” Janelle replied, her chin held high.

      The afternoon sun reflected off the tiny jewel affixed to the side of her nose. The gold flecks in her hazel eyes shimmered. Chuck swallowed. God, she was beautiful. The young doctor’s ogling of Janelle last night had lacked any semblance of professionalism—but who could blame him for taking advantage of the opportunity for another look today?

      Chuck took Janelle’s hand in his. “I’m sure Clarence has texted you by now.”

      She shook her head no.

      Chuck stifled a groan. He kept it brief—the tunnel-floor collapse, the appearance of the officer at the mine with the photo of Clarence’s bloody knife, and the suspicion that the blood was human.

      Janelle slid her hand free of Chuck’s as he finished: “The cop said they’ll follow up. Later today, maybe tomorrow.” He read the look in her eyes. “And no, I’m sure Clarence doesn’t want you to say anything to your parents.”

      Too late, she looked away.