Phil pointed up the hill beside us. He was presently immune to either praise or irony.

"That hillside is steep. And the timber on the hillside above us is very, very unstable-too unstable even for salvage.

There's a small explosive charge all set up there, ready to start a landslide of tree trunks. When the charge goes off and those trees start to roll, your bodies will be down here, ready to be buried beneath the pile."

"Dorothy's body? You did the same to her?" The question was mine.

He didn't answer.

Kimber said, "We've already collected most of the evidence at the ranch, Mr. Barrett. It's in Percy Smith's custody at the police department. I assume you're planning to kill him, too."

"I was there, remember? I saw what you got today and you haven't collected the evidence that I care about. The box in Percy Smith's evidence locker doesn't contain shit. The girls died in the bunkhouse. That's why-" Kimber said, "You torched it."

"I wasn't in town that day. But that's why it was… torched." He shook his head.

"Stupid idea. As far as I'm concerned it was like putting a

"Search Here' sign on the place. Other than myself this is a cadre of amateurs." "Ray Welle?" I asked.

"Ray's no amateur… but, no, he's not involved in any of this. There're no big fish in this stream at all." He actually smiled before he stole another glance up the hill.

"Got you there, don't I? You thought this was all about Ray, didn't you? You figured that we've all been covering for the great Ray Welle." I said, "Welle's not involved with the girls' deaths?"

"He may suspect something happened on his ranch, but I don't think he actually knows, no."

"Who are you covering up for then, Phil? Who's worth it?"

Barrett suddenly looked mean.

"You think I've been silent this long just to serve you that news on a platter?" "And Dorothy figured all this out?" I asked.

"The dead girls? No, she didn't know any of it. She figured something else out, though. So… she had to go. Want to hear something funny? Dorothy? That reporter? I rescued her before I killed her. Her damn husband had showed up at her hotel to beat the crap out of her. I thought he was trying to kill her.

Turns out he was the one who took the shots during the fund-raiser at the tennis house in Denver-followed her here all the way from the District." He shook his head at the irony.

"What an asshole. When I first walked into her hotel room in Steamboat she thought I was the goddamn angel of mercy and he thought I was there to arrest him." I said, "I know why her husband was furious at her. But what about you? What did she know? Was it about Gloria Welle?"

Phil looked displeased with the question, but he didn't answer.

Kimber said, "Someone will follow us, Mr. Barrett. We're a large organization with some of the most inventive forensic minds in the world. Someone else will show up to collect the evidence, whatever it is. The fire didn't destroy it.

You can't put this off forever."

"I've put it off for over ten years. Your disappearance will give me… us… some time to confuse things a little more. I'll gladly settle for ten more years. Now finish those cuffs there. I'm done talking."

Instead of circling Kimber's ankle with the third band I threaded it through a D-ring on Kimber's ankle holster, slid it through the loop on his left ankle, and snapped it shut. I hoped that from Barrett's vantage it would appear to be a functional restraint. But as soon as Kimber removed the holster from his leg his ankles would be untethered.

I said, "There, it's done. Phil, you know that the girls were at the ranch earlier the day they disappeared. We know that Dr. Welle was there, too.

He met with one of them."

"So?" He didn't seem interested.

"Your turn to get restrained, Dr. Gregory.

Stand up and give me your wrists. Move slowly. I'm feeling a mite jumpy." I stood and reached behind my back with both hands, removing the small pistol. As I turned my left hip toward Barrett, I rested the gun against my right thigh.

Phil thought I was being uncooperative and barked, "Give me your other goddamn hand."

I did.

I swung my right hand across my body and hit him as hard as I could with the butt of Kimber's gun.

He fell to the ground like a bird shot out of the sky.

I froze right where I was standing. I'd hit him so hard I was afraid that I'd broken my hand.

Kimber said, "Good move. Now, get his gun, Alan… Alan!"

I took a step back and stared at Phil's head. Blood was oozing from his ear and dripping down over his nose. A lot of blood.

"Get the gun," Kimber repeated.

I stooped to retrieve Barrett's handgun.

"Yes. Now bind his wrists, then get me free."

I had to flop Phil from his side onto his ample abdomen to restrain his wrists.

That done, I searched his pockets, found a pocketknife on his key ring, and used it to saw through the plastic band I'd placed on Kimber's wrists. As I finished I said, "I can't believe I hit him like that."

Kimber hopped over next to Phil and began palpating the left side of his head, just back of his temple.

"You crushed his skull."

The words made me shiver. I said, "Is he dead? Did I kill him?"

"No. He's not dead."

"I shouldn't have hit him so hard. Kimber, we have to get him some medical help.

A helicopter or something. I think I remember the way back out of here. It's only a couple of turns. I have a phone in my car but I don't know if it can get a signal up here."

Kimber stood back up and wiped Barretts blood from his hands on a handkerchief he'd pulled from his pocket. Kimber Lister was the kind of guy who always had a clean handkerchief in his pocket. He said, "Help for him will have to wait. I'm not leaving without Flynn and Russ."

At some level of awareness, I'd expected Kimber's protest.

"We don't know where they are, Kimber. We only have Barretts word that they're even up here, and he sure made it sound like they're already dead. We need to get help with all this.

I've seen aerial views of this blow down It extends for miles over terrain that's more rugged than you can imagine. There's no way you and I can search it by ourselves, especially at night. The reality is that Flynn and Russ are probably already dead. And Barrett could be dying right now."

Kimber finally finished sawing through the plastic on his ankles.

"You go then.

Get out. Call Percy Smith in town. Take Phil's pistol with you." He pocketed Phil's keys and returned his pistol to his ankle holster. He checked Barrett's semiautomatic before he handed it to me.

"It's ready to go. I'm going to find Flynn and Russ."

Above us, on the hillside, we heard voices. Kimber and I both turned our heads toward the sound at the same time. A man spoke first, followed immediately by a woman. I was able to make out a couple of words, but that was all.

I whispered, "Is that Flynn and Russ?"

Kimber shook his head emphatically. Even his most hushed whisper would be too robust for their circumstances.

I said, "You're sure?" He was.

The woman's voice again, more distinct this time. She said, "I don't want to wait."

"What?" the man replied, loudly. I knew the voice. The man was Dell Franklin.

Tami's father.

The woman said, "Shut up." Was that Dell's wife, Cathy? I wasn't sure.

I took a step in the direction of the voices and Kimber grabbed my left wrist, almost yanking me off my feet. He was pointing in the direction of the trailhead opposite the way we had entered the clearing. He grabbed one of Phil Barrett's ankles and I took the other. We had managed to tug Phil's body halfway to the trailhead when an explosion erupted on the hillside to my left.

I tried to make sense of the sudden noise and the brutal concussion.