The Height of Secrecy. J. M. Mitchell

end, we weren’t chummy. I assumed she’d been working against the team. Turns out, she may have been another casualty. Buried in Denver when they put me here. Don’t know why but I didn’t know that. Too focused on myself, I guess.”

      “What’s she like?”

      “Strong professional background. Bit of a tease. She’s a woman who knows the effect she has on men.” He led her off the trail, toward the stash of enchiladas.

      After a moment, Kelly said, “She ever have that effect on you?”

      He rolled his eyes. “Hell, no, I was her boss. Didn’t think I could trust her. Maybe I was wrong. Doesn’t matter.” He stopped at the stash.

      She kicked the coals away from the enchiladas, and pushed them out of the heat. She laughed. “If you can trust her now, maybe I need to be the one who shouldn’t.”

      “Come with us. It’s on Saturday.”

      “I wasn’t invited, and if the woman from the regional office is along, sounds like work.”

      “It’s not. She sees it as play.”

      “Then go play. It might be good to talk to her about Montana. Might do you both some good. And maybe Thomas will open up a little.”

      “I’m too preoccupied to think about play, or any of that.”

      “Then, you need a back rub,” she said. “I can make you forget everything.”

      —·—

      After midnight, the Letters to the Editor section of the online edition of the Las Piedras Gazette received a post from a frequent but anonymous contributor who used the name, ‘All Is Not Ducky’:

      I’ve had time to think about the rumor I heard at Elena’s. I don’t believe it. You know as well as I do, whatever happened to those plants happened as part of some kind of government plan. I think they’ll be conveniently “found” and probably on private lands they want to seize. Just sayin.

      Chapter 12

      Jack broke camp and was waiting at his vehicle, enjoying the sounds of morning when Johnny arrived, as promised, shortly after first light.

      “Day’s a wasting,” he said, climbing out of his pickup. He checked the ground, and scratched his head. “That’s strange. Multiple sets of tire tracks on top of my last ones from yesterday.”

      “Interesting,” Jack said, feigning confusion, studying the tracks Kelly left in the dirt. “I must have slept right through it,” he said, pulling Johnny’s leg, but he didn’t seem to get it. “Poachers, maybe. Somebody lost.”

      “They turned around here and went out the same way. Must have seen your truck and high-tailed it out.” He stood upright. “Fire behave itself?”

      “Yeah, nice evening. Looks to be burning hottest to the north.”

      “I thought so, too. Couple a days, the west flank could hit the edge of the old Elk Hollow Fire—from three years ago. That’ll stop it cold. Lots of ground to the northwest though.”

      “Yep,” Jack said. “And it needs to burn.”

      “Heard anything yet about a review?” Johnny asked, almost under his breath. “Am I gonna get canned?”

      “You, me both. No, not yet. Left a message with a colleague at Fish and Wildlife Service. Haven’t heard back, but don’t worry, assume it’ll be lessons learned for our program.”

      “But we killed off a species.”

      Jack gave a slow nod. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll look for ’em. I need to take off.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Watch out for poachers.”

      “Yeah, especially those sneaky female types.”

      —·—

      After a shower and getting into uniform, Jack drove into Las Piedras. He turned into the adobe-walled Inn of the Canyons and immediately saw picketers standing at the corner. Two men and a woman, none of them young, all of them holding wooden stakes with large cardboard placards. “Get the government out of our lives,” one placard said. “Give us back our freedom,” read another.

      Damn. Didn’t read the newspaper article. Who is this person? What are they planning? And why?

      He parked close to the door, grabbed his canvas briefcase and slid out of the vehicle.

      Erika Jones waited at the porte-cochere in a dark suit, clutching her bag. Jack walked past and grabbed the handle on the massive carved door. “Morning.”

      “You look happy.”

      “Guess I am.” He tilted his head in the direction of the picketers. “That’s new. Not sure what they’re about but I should’ve done some homework. I didn’t.” He held the door open. “Sure you’re up for this? Don’t you get enough meetings in Denver?”

      “I love meetings. Can’t say I’ve enjoyed all the good times you’ve shown me, but hey, surprise me.” She breezed past. “Play me if you need me.”

      She strutted through the foyer.

      He shook his head, inspecting her attire as she melted into the shadows of the lobby. Those legs. She always did manage to get the attention of every male in the house. Probably not any less distracting in uniform, but like this she looked like someone from out of town, and these people don’t quickly trust out-of-towners. But for some, trust would be the last thing on their minds.

      They turned down the hall to the Canyon Room. “Other than the high school,” Jack said, “this is the only place in town big enough to hold a public meeting.”