Long Road to Mercy (Atlee Pine, #1)(12)

She inserted her Maglite on the rail on top of her Glock right as she reached the corral.

Kettler took out his pistol and thumbed off the safety.

The disturbance was coming from the far side.

Kettler pointed to himself and then motioned to the left. Pine nodded and headed right.

A few moments later she started to sprint, turned the corner, and stopped, her light and gun muzzle on the person in front of her.

Kettler was already there, his weapon trained on the same target.

The person screamed and jumped back.

“FBI! Hands up where I can see them, or I will fire,” Pine commanded.

She relaxed just a tiny bit because the person looked to be a teenage girl.

“Oh, shit,” exclaimed the girl. She was dressed in shorts, with crew socks and flip-flops and a short-sleeved T-shirt. She started to cry. “Please don’t hurt me. God, please don’t shoot.”

Pine dropped her muzzle to forty-five degrees. Her gaze was on the long object in the girl’s right hand. She took a step closer and then pointed her muzzle to the dirt.

It wasn’t a knife. It was a carrot.

Kettler stepped forward, but lowered his gun as well.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” demanded Pine.

The girl held up the carrot. “I came to feed Jasmine. She’s the mule I rode down.”

“Do you know a mule was found dead yesterday morning?”

The girl nodded. “I guess that’s why I came down here, too. I wanted to check on them.”

Pine holstered her gun. “What’s your name?”

“Shelby Foster.”

“Okay, Shelby. Are you here with your family?”

“My dad and brother.”

“Where are you from?”

“Wisconsin. There’s nothing like this place there. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Yeah, it is. Okay, Shelby, feed Jasmine her carrot, and then we’re going to walk you back to where you’re bunking.”

Kettler put his gun away, too, and looked down at the flimsy flip-flops. “There are rattlers and scorpions around here, ma’am. That’s hardly appropriate footwear.”

“I have boots back at the cabin. I just didn’t want to put them back on. My feet are all swollen from the ride down.”

Kettler smiled kindly. “Yeah, that happens. But next time, think before you walk, okay?”

Later, as they walked back to one of the cabins, Shelby said to Pine, “So you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I thought they were mostly guys.”

“They are. But I’m not.”

“That’s cool, actually.”

“Yeah, it is,” Kettler agreed, drawing a glance from Pine.

“Did you find out who killed the mule?” Shelby asked.

“Not yet, but we will.”

“Who could have done such a horrible thing?”

“Unfortunately, there are horrible people out there, Shelby. So always be aware of your surroundings. Don’t watch your phone screen 24/7. And don’t have earbuds in all the time. That makes you an easy target. Be aware. Okay?” When the teenager looked crushed, Pine tacked on a smile and added, “Girls have to look out for each other. Right?”

Shelby returned the smile and nodded, and Pine watched as she hurried into her cabin.

Kettler said, “Well, I better get back.”

“Thanks for the assist, Mr. Kettler.”

“My old man is Mr. Kettler. I’m just Sam.”

“I’m Atlee.”

Kettler looked around. “You know, I came down here for some peace and quiet. Never expected anything like this to happen. Everybody’s on edge.”

“You’ve had missing persons down here before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never had a mule killed. For some reason, that’s upset me more than the missing person.” He nodded at her. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Pine took out a business card and handed it to him. “Cell phone’s on the back of the card. You think of something, or just want to talk, give me a ring.”

He tipped his hat. “Maybe we can catch a beer sometime. Colson said you live up at Shattered Rock.”

“Yeah. Been there about a year.”

“I’m in Tusayan, not that far away.”

“No, it’s not.”

He slipped the card into his shirt pocket. “Well, see you around.”

He smiled and walked off. She watched him go, her thoughts settling on something she had just learned.

If the teen had been able to leave her cabin and get to the corral pretty much undetected that meant Benjamin Priest could have, too. The mule was dead. And maybe Priest was, too.

The Canyon was big, but it would be hard for a body to go undetected for long. At the very least the carnivores flying overhead or lurking on the ground would signal where it was located. But Pine was more interested in finding Priest alive. She had questions for him. She hoped he’d have answers. She didn’t like people who killed animals, especially because they sometimes moved on to killing people.

She checked her watch. In about six hours they would start looking in earnest for Mr. Priest. And whether they found him dead or alive, Pine had a feeling that she was going to have a lot more questions. And that maybe, just maybe, this would only be the tip of the proverbial iceberg.