Firestorm. Kelly Riley Ann

signs anyone’s pitched a tent here recently.”

      “Most likely it was kids fooling around.” He stomped out the last burning ember. “They like to come down here to party.”

      “Yes, I know,” Kitty said. She’d been part of that crowd before she’d smartened up and realized her ticket to freedom and out of Pine Lake wouldn’t come from carousing and landing in jail.

      Tanner shot her an assessing glance before scanning the campground again. “We better look around before I call in an all clear.”

      They separated and she scouted the east end where giant boulders and dense, thorny chaparral hemmed the campground. The wind had blown most of the heavy smoke from the campfire northward, but a dusky fog floated above a shallow ravine that dropped steeply away from the last campsite. Kitty skidded down the embankment. Gray wisps seeped out of the ground by a fallen log. She dug through the pine needles to discover a small hole. A steady ribbon of smoke streamed out.

      Scrambling back up the hill, Kitty shouted, “Tanner, over here.” She waved her arms until he caught sight of her.

      “Look at this,” she said after he joined her. She shoved the log over with her boot. Smoke billowed up through crannies in the rocky earth. Tanner used the shovel and unearthed a smoldering pile of twigs and dried leaves.

      “Careful,” he warned as Kitty squatted and lifted a tin can out of a small pile of rocks. “Smells like lighter fluid.” She set the cylinder gently to the side.

      “The log is soaked with something, too. Pretty clever delay device. Keep an eye on it. I have to go radio the sheriff. I can’t get a signal in the ravine. Here, blow this if you sense any trouble.” He handed her a whistle and climbed to the camp area.

      Kitty spent the next several minutes systematically scouting the area as they’d trained her in class. No dropped litter, except a rusty soda can. Not even the baked ground revealed any tracks. No clues at all.

      The minutes ticked by, and smoke curled from the log again. Arson. The thought sent alternating waves of fear and excitement through her. The same maniac who set the Wildcat Ravine could’ve struck again, which would prove her father innocent. But it also meant he could still out there, waiting to strike again.

      The trees and brush grew too high up on the walls to provide much shade, and hot rays beat down on her head. Wisps of hair escaped her ponytail and stuck to her neck along with gritty dust, making her skin itch. She shooed away the tiny black gnats buzzing around her face as a pebble bounced down on the opposite ravine wall. Then another. Something moved along the ridge.

      Clutching the shovel, she climbed the ravine edge, but she still couldn’t see over the dense chaparral thicket. Dry vegetation crunched. Her pulse quickened. Could it be an animal foraging for food? Or…had the arsonist returned to the scene of the crime?

      She waved at Tanner, who stood by the truck, still conversing on the radio. He glanced in her direction and held up a finger, indicating he needed a minute. Behind her, the rustling noise grew fainter. She didn’t have a minute, and she couldn’t use the whistle he’d given her. By the time Tanner got here, whoever roamed back there would disappear.

      As quietly as possible, Kitty jammed the shovel deep into the thick wall of thorny bush. Leaning forward, she could almost see through the leaves to the other side. Just another six inches and…was that a blue shirt? The shovel jerked, yanking her forward. She pitched over a rock and fell into the bush.