Nina nodded, then noticed Tutu dancing at her feet. “Let’s take Tutu outside. The little dear needs to go.”

Tutu started yapping.

Gretchen watched Nina dig through a pouch as big as a baby diaper bag. Out came a white folded pad.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see. Follow me.”

Gretchen smiled inwardly. Aunt Nina was as quirky as quirky comes. Stores her shoes on top of the refrigerator so scorpions can’t climb in. Had all the silver fillings removed from her teeth so she wouldn’t get mercury poisoning. Believes she has special psychic power and can see auras emanating from people. Gretchen wouldn’t be surprised if Nina believed that space ships flew out of holes in Antarctica.

The sweltering late morning heat hit Gretchen with enough force that she took a step back before willing her body into forward motion. After the relief of the house’s air-conditioning, her skin felt on fire. Motion took superhuman effort. Even her breathing became labored.

They paused next to Caroline’s swimming pool rimmed with Mexican tile and gazed up at Camelback Mountain. Gretchen could see a few die-hard hikers weaving upward among the rocks. She wondered how many of the mountain’s casualties were accidents and how many were calculated ends. What drove people over the edge? What did they think about in that final moment during the deadly plunge?

She shivered in spite of the heat. Even Tutu paused for a moment of silence.

“Where did she fall?”

Nina pointed to one of the highest peaks. “She must have been standing right about there. See that ledge close to the top? Bonnie thinks they found her about there.”

“She must have been an experienced hiker to climb that high. Summit Trail isn’t easy.”

Summit Trail was strenuous. Not a trail for beginners. Halfway up to the peak of the mountain, the trail steps ended, and the real climb began. Gretchen had climbed it many times and loved the challenge, but the majority of amateur hikers preferred to follow the gentler Bobby’s Rock Trail.

Nina shrugged. “As far as I know, she never climbed a mountain in her life. She was afraid of heights. She couldn’t even climb a ladder.”

“Maybe she was trying to conquer her fear.” Gretchen knew there were plenty of opportunities to overcome fear on this mountain.

“Bonnie said Martha was wearing sandals. Who climbs a mountain in sandals?”

Tutu began yapping again. Nina unfolded the small white pad and placed it on the ground. “Here you go, sweetie. Now do your business.”

And Tutu squatted on the pad.

“This is the best invention ever designed,” Nina said. “I call it the wee-wee pad. See how well Tutu is trained to go on it. No more accidents in the house if you lay one of these where you want your precious pet to go. No more rushing home to let the dog out. Not that I’d ever leave you home alone, Tutu dear.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. Nina needed an outside interest, something that didn’t include Tutu.

“The only problem is that Tutu likes the pad so much she won’t do what she has to do outside. No grass or desert ground for her. She refuses to pee-pee without her wee-wee pad. I would spread it out in the house, but Caroline says it isn’t natural for a dog to go in the house, and she won’t allow it.”

Nina bundled up the used pad and handed it to Gretchen.

Holding it delicately between two fingers, Gretchen walked to the far side of her mother’s swimming pool and deposited it in a trash receptacle outside of the cabana.

Instead of returning right away, Gretchen leaned against a barstool and admired the earthy Mexican tile decorating the cabana. Its open front faced the swimming pool with a circular cocktail area, and it had a small living space for guests in back. Gretchen stayed in the cabana on many visits, preferring its intimate coziness to staying in the main house.

Nina watched her from a lounge chair in the shade of a large umbrella. “Whatever happened up on the mountain, Gretchen, I’m afraid it wasn’t an accident.”

Gretchen sat on a lounge chair next to Nina and stared in bewilderment at her aunt. “What do you mean?”

“For starters, Martha didn’t have any dolls. The bank repossessed her home three years ago, and she lost her entire collection, which, I heard, was one of the finest antique collections in Phoenix.”

“You never saw it?” Gretchen eyed up the inviting blue water of the pool.

“No, she was an odd woman, reserved and not particularly friendly. I didn’t know her well enough to have the opportunity. But that’s not the point. The point is-why did she have a doll parasol in her pocket when she no longer owned any dolls? Martha was homeless at the end of her life. And that’s not all. Brace yourself, Gretchen. I couldn’t tell you this on the phone.”

Nina reached over and placed her bejeweled hand over Gretchen’s. “Bonnie told me the police found a note of sorts clenched in Martha’s fist.”

Nina might be hopelessly melodramatic, but she was pulling it off with style this time. Gretchen felt the hairs on her arm rising. “What? Tell me.”

“The piece of paper had your mother’s name on it. It read, ‘Caroline Birch-put her away.’”

Gretchen stared at her aunt.

“My psychic ability is a curse sometimes,” Nina continued, leaning back on the lounge chair and crossing her arms. “I sense something dark happened up there. Martha Williams was pushed from Camelback Mountain and, I’m afraid, your mother is involved.”

“Impossible,” Gretchen said with conviction.

“That’s when your mother vanished. Right after I called her and told her what the authorities found.” Nina snapped her fingers, her voice urgent. “Poof. Like smoke, she was gone.”

Nina roared away in her red Chevy to pick up her latest purse dog trainee, leaving Gretchen with time to herself. She made a peanut butter sandwich and a salad using slightly wilted lettuce from her mother’s refrigerator. While she ate at the kitchen table, she adjusted her watch for the three-hour time difference between Boston and Phoenix, turning the hands back. Noon instead of three, a mere twelve hours since she’d given in to Nina’s demands.

Instead of unpacking, she laced up her hiking boots and slipped her cell phone in her pocket. She rubbed sunscreen on her exposed flesh, hung her binoculars around her neck, and selected a bottle of water from a well-stocked supply in the refrigerator.

As an afterthought, she checked her mother’s closet. Then she opened the hall closet. Her mother’s set of luggage lay empty on the floor. A more thorough search produced a toothbrush in the bathroom. As far as Gretchen could tell, Caroline hadn’t taken anything other than the car.

She braced herself for the explosion of afternoon heat and set off, leaving palm trees and bougainvillea behind. She walked up the hill toward Echo Canyon, where the trailhead to Camelback Mountain began.

Hikers, mostly sightseers and casual walkers, tramped up and down the footpath between the trailhead and a large boulder, where they perched like flocks of birds to admire the view of Phoenix in the valley below and to drink from lukewarm water bottles.

The serious hikers, many training for longer hikes, continued moving up where the footpath ended and the handrails began. Gretchen could see the dry washes below and cacti sprouting from impossibly sheer cliff ledges. Birds flitted through the sparse shrubbery, calling to each other.

Gretchen felt light-headed as she trudged upward. Nina’s words played over in her mind. Her mother. Vanished. A dead woman. Her mother’s name in the woman’s pocket. “Put her away.”

What could it mean?

A message? A warning? An accusation?

The timing of Martha’s death and Caroline’s disappearance wasn’t coincidental, and she knew it. She felt a quick flash of anger at her mother for leaving without notifying anyone. The anger dissipated and steamed into fear. Was her mother safe? Why hadn’t she called Nina? Twenty-four hours and counting since Nina had spoken with her sister, the time slowing to an agonizing pace.