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said, “and I just heard the story.”
    â€œAbout the time his wife healed up, she ran off with some fella she’d met at the hospital. Probably never even knew the favor I done her. She was a pretty little thing, cute as a bug’s ear.”
    Tully slowed the Explorer and pointed to an opening in the brush. A small piece of orange fluorescent tape was tied to a branch near the opening.
    â€œLooks like somebody marked the road,” he said, pointing to the tape. He could see car tracks disappearing into the brush.
    â€œHunters sometimes use that tape to mark the way back to a deer they got down,” Pap said.
    â€œYeah,” Tully said. “But this time I think it only marks the road.”
    â€œFresh car tracks, probably made last night, all right,” Pap said.
    â€œYou sure we want to find out?”
    â€œNo, but I expect we better.”

Chapter 7
    Tully eased the Explorer through the brush that covered the road’s entrance. Within a hundred yards, he came to a stream. He punched the button to engage the Explorer’s four-wheel drive. The SUV plowed through the shallow water and up the bank on the far side. Here the brush closed in even tighter, like a leafy tunnel. The woods were thick with snowberry, Oregon grape, wild rose, alders, birch, quaking aspen and young cottonwoods. Tully thought he might come over here in the summer to look for dewberries. His mother still made dewberry jam every summer.
    â€œGood place to get brush scratches on a new vehicle,” Pap said.
    â€œScratched up this rig long ago,” Tully said.
    â€œThe car ahead of us probably wasn’t. I’d never do this to a car, less’n it happened to be a rental. Or owned by the county. There’s still only one track. You know what that means.”
    â€œThere was only one car, I suppose.”
    â€œNo, it means they’re still up here. Or found another way out. And I don’t think there’s another way out.”
    Pap held the .30-30 upright between his legs. He worked the lever, jacking a shell into the chamber, then lowered the hammer back down.
    Tully stopped, the wet brakes grabbing and squeaking. He took the keys from the ignition, reached over and unlocked the glove compartment. He took out the Glock and removed it from the holster. He pulled the slide back and closed it, chambering a round. “How far to the end of the road do you think?” he asked.
    â€œI’m not sure,” Pap said. “I remember it now, though. Years ago I hunted it for grouse and even then it had a big berm of dirt and rock across it just below where it started up the mountain.”
    â€œWe better walk,” Tully said. “I don’t like the idea of driving up on whoever’s in that car.”
    â€œI hate walking,” Pap said.
    â€œThese could be hunters,” Tully said. “But I’d rather not be a sitting target if they’re not.”
    They got out of the Explorer and pressed the doors closed behind them. They walked up the road, ducking beneath the overhanging brush and tree limbs. The day was warming up and the frost on the brush was melting and starting to drip. Every so often an icy drip slithered down the back of Tully’s neck and reminded him that he could have been wearing his cowboy hat. He noticed that his father moved through the brush effortlessly without making a sound. Occasionally he would see where a vehicle had scraped a rock in the road or takenthe bark off part of a small tree growing up between the tracks. He was pretty sure it had to be a four-wheel drive. As they neared the place where the mountain rose abruptly out of the woods, he saw the shiny black shape of a car roof. He signaled to Pap. The old man nodded back. He had already seen it. Tully moved over close to him.
    â€œBoth doors are closed on this side,” Pap whispered.
    â€œRear door is open on the left side,” Tully whispered back.
    â€œDon’t