“What do we do?”

Corrie shook her head. “If the shooter wants to come down here, he’s got to expose himself. There’s no cover for him.”

“Are you going to shoot back?”

“I sure as hell hope not. If I fire my service piece, I have to report it, and you wouldn’t believe the paperwork.” She didn’t mention that she was a lousy shot and the shooter, clearly using a rifle, was too far away anyway.

“So what do we do?”

“Give me a minute.”

Nora sat, back pressed against the adobe, trying to control her breathing. She glanced at Corrie, who was now edging out to take another look. Keeping low, she glanced out through the bushes. Minutes passed.

“I think he might have left,” she finally said.

“How do you know?”

“I saw what looked like a dust trail thrown up by a vehicle along that ridge. It seemed to be heading away.”

“That’s a little sketchy.”

Corrie took off her backpack, pulled out a jacket, broke off a branch from a bush, and draped it over, putting her baseball cap on top. Then she slowly moved it out from behind the pillar—barely showing at first, then a little more.

Nothing.

“The shooter would definitely have seen that,” Corrie said. “I think he’s gone.” She paused. “Here’s what we’ll do. You run like crazy across that open ground and down into the arroyo.”

“The hell I will!”

“I’ll cover you and fire back at him if he shoots. Then I’ll follow. Once we’re in the arroyo we’ll be well covered, and we can loop around and drop down off the canyon rim without him getting a shot. But I really think he’s gone.”

Nora peered out herself at the terrain. It made sense—if Corrie was right about the shooter having left.

Corrie positioned herself behind the bushes, in a prone position, ready to fire. “You ready?”

Nora nodded. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Count of three. One, two, three, go!”

Nora braced herself, then sprinted across the short stretch of open ground and leapt into the arroyo. No shot came. A moment later Corrie raced across, joining her. They crouched, side by side, breathing heavily.

“So far so good,” said Corrie. “We’d better move fast in case he comes after us.”

In silence they descended the arroyo, keeping low and moving along the walls, until they reached the cut into the canyon rimrock. They climbed down a jumble of boulders and pour-overs, and soon were off the mesa. Swiftly but cautiously, they darted behind a range of low hills until they reached the Fishhook. They jogged through the slot canyon, emerged out the other end, and fifteen minutes later were at the car. Nora slid into the driver’s seat while Corrie leapt in and slammed the passenger-side door. Gunning the engine, the car slewed around and took off down the road.

Corrie holstered her gun. “That aerial photo. It led us right to this spot—where someone was waiting for us. I think we were ambushed.”

“Are you saying that photo was planted? That you were meant to find it?” Nora thought about this for a moment. “The Gower farmhouse is totally off-limits except to the army. And on top of that, how did they know we were coming here today? Or that we’d come at all? Nobody would station a shooter up there permanently.”

“I think the army planted it. I didn’t like McGurk from the moment I met him. I wouldn’t put it past him to have us followed.”

“Followed—and shot at?”

“Maybe.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.”

Nora hesitated. It seemed far-fetched almost to the point of being paranoid. Corrie had an overactive imagination, and she’d taken an unreasonable disliking to McGurk. “It doesn’t make sense,” she told Corrie. “Think about it. What’s his motivation? Killing a fed—that’s a huge step to take. It would trigger a firestorm of attention. And planting the photo? How did he know you’d look behind that picture, that you’d find it, that you’d figure out the location it displayed, and then decide to check it out? How did he know when? I haven’t noticed anyone following us. And finally, if that had been an army sniper up there, we’d be dead. He was only a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty yards away. But those shots were at least ten feet wide of us. It could have been a myopic hunter, for all we know. Or maybe the person who was digging those holes—trying to scare us off his ‘claim.’ Or simply a nut. There are plenty of those, you know, hiding in their own little pockets of the wilderness.”

Corrie was silent. “Those are reasonable points. I guess I just don’t like the general. He seems … I don’t know. Too nice, in a way.”

“Would you rather he was an asshole?”

Corrie shook her head.

“Are you going to report this to the FBI?” Nora asked.

“God, no. It would open up a can of worms—and get me into trouble for coming out here on my day off, unauthorized, with a civilian.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Corrie pursed her lips. “I’m going to ask Sheriff Watts to come out here. He’s an expert tracker, or so he says. Maybe he can figure this out. He’s been pretty useful.”