Avalanche Of Trouble. Cindi Myers

morning.”

      “Maybe she’s close to the camp and she’ll see me and come to me.” Maya stood. “Let’s go now. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

      Gage rose also and motioned toward the door. “After you. My cruiser is parked out front.”

      The black-and-white SUV sported the requisite light bar on top and the legend, Rayford County Sheriff’s Department, on the door. Gage walked around and opened the passenger door, then leaned in and scooped an armful of papers, file folders, gloves, a flashlight and who knew what else off the front seat. “Welcome to my mobile office,” he said, holding the door wide for her.

      She climbed in, studying the tablet computer mounted to face the driver, the radio and the shotgun in a holder beside her seat. Gage buckled his seat belt and started the engine. “You said your sister and her husband had just bought the property they were camping on?” he asked as he pulled out into the street.

      “Yes. They closed on the purchase last week and wanted to spend some time up there, enjoying the scenery.” She choked on the last word. Angela wouldn’t be enjoying anything anymore.

      “So they bought the property to have a place to camp? Or did they plan to build a house up there?”

      “Not a house, no. They bought up a bunch of old mining claims, with plans to reopen the mines.”

      “Interesting choice.” He turned onto the highway, leaving the town behind. “Most of those old mines haven’t been worked in fifty or sixty years or more. Even then, most of them never earned much. Though I guess some people do still dig around in them as a hobby.”

      “This wasn’t a hobby. Greg is—was—an engineer. He’s developed new techniques he thinks will make those old mines profitable again. He wanted to do a demonstration project here, and use that to sell his equipment to others.”

      “That sounds like it could end up being pretty lucrative,” Gage said. “Did he have competitors? Anyone who might have killed him to get his ideas or to stop him from implementing them?”

      “No! That’s crazy. He doesn’t know people like that. And he had patents on all the equipment he had designed. People don’t kill other people over things like that. If they wanted his ideas, they could have bought him out—or tried to.”

      “So he never mentioned having been threatened by anyone?” Gage asked.

      “No. And Angela would have told me if he had. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions from me. And if either one of them had thought they were in any danger at all, they never would have brought Casey up here.”

      “Can you think of any reason someone would have killed them?” Gage asked. “Something in their pasts, maybe?”

      “No.” She shook her head, fresh tears flowing in spite of her efforts to hold them back. “They were quiet, ordinary people.” She blotted the tears with her fingers and angled toward him. “Maybe they stumbled on drug activity—a meth lab or something like that—and were murdered because of it.”

      “It’s possible,” Gage said. “And we’ll look into it. But most of the meth labs have moved to Mexico these days.” He slowed as they approached a bank of lights—headlights, work lights, even flashlights bobbed about in the woods on either side of the road.

      “This is where they were killed?” Maya asked, staring at the confusion of lights and people—and lots and lots of trees and rocks and dirt. This was the place Angela had gushed about as being so beautiful?

      “Yes.” Gage shut off the engine. “Stay with me,” he said. “If you go wandering off around here, you could end up falling down an abandoned mine shaft or stepping off a cliff.”

      “Those things could have happened to Casey,” she said, climbing out of the SUV and following him down the side of the road.

      “Hey, Gage.”

      “Hi, Gage.”

      “Thought you’d packed it in for the night?”

      Various people greeted the deputy as they passed. An older man with a crooked nose and bushy eyebrows approached. “Deputy Walker, what are you doing about the press?” he asked.

      “I’m not really concerned about the press right now, Larry,” Gage said. He turned to Maya. “Maya Renfro, this is Eagle Mountain’s mayor, Larry Rowe.”

      “Ms. Renfro.” The mayor nodded solemnly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” He turned to Gage. “Now, about the press. Something like this could reflect very badly on the town if it isn’t handled properly.”

      “Not now, mayor.” Gage pushed past him, only to be waylaid a few yards farther on by a petite woman with a large red hound on a leash. “Did you get anything?” Gage asked her.

      “I’m sorry, no.” The woman stopped and leaned down to pat the dog. “Daisy picked up the scent from the shirt you gave me, but after about a hundred yards, she lost it. I marked the path for you. And we can try again tomorrow if you like. Right now, Daisy is just tired and frustrated.”

      Daisy stared up at them with mournful brown eyes, then let out a low moan and scratched at one floppy ear with her hind foot.

      “Thanks for trying, Lorna,” Gage said. He patted Daisy. “Give her a biscuit from me.”

      Maya spotted Greg and Angela’s SUV and faltered. The vehicle was surrounded by a cordon of yellow-and-black tape, and more tape marked a path from the vehicle into the woods. “Is that your sister and her husband’s car?” Gage asked.

      “Yes.”

      He took her arm. “Come on. I’m going to take you into their camp, ask you to identify some things. Their bodies have already been taken away. Can you do that for me?”

      “Yes.” They were just things. She wouldn’t think about them in relation to death.

      “Step where I step,” Gage said. “Don’t get off the path or touch anything.” He led the way through a section of tape.

      “That’s their tent,” she said as they approached the blue dome tent. “They bought it a couple of years ago, to replace an old one our parents gave them.”

      “All right.” Gage led her to the tent and pulled back the flap. “Take a look inside and tell me if you see anything unusual—anything that doesn’t belong to your sister, her husband or Casey.”

      He swept the beam of the flashlight over the contents of the tent—sleeping bags, backpack, clothing, Angela’s purse. Maya covered her mouth with her hand when she spotted the purse and shook her head, swallowing hard against the sob that threatened to escape.

      Gage dropped the tent flap and straightened, playing the beam of the light around and behind the tent. Pink tape fluttered from a slender metal stake behind the tent. “This is where Lorna and her dog picked up the scent,” he said, guiding Maya over to the stake. “Don’t walk in the path, but walk beside it. Call your niece. If she’s near enough, she might recognize your voice and come to you.”

      Maya stared at him, still numb. “Calling her isn’t going to help,” she said. “We have to look for her.”

      “Call her. She might hear you. Identify yourself and if she’s hiding, she might come out.”

      Maya shook her head, the tears flowing freely now. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I could call all night and it wouldn’t make any difference. Casey wouldn’t hear me. She’s deaf.”

       Chapter Three

      Gage stared at Maya. “Your niece is deaf and you’re just now telling me?” he asked.

      “I’m sorry! I was in shock. And it’s not like I think of Casey as my deaf