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pegged it at almost thirtyfour hundred feet. I took my wallet out to pay the entrance fee as we approached the park.
    Just beyond the kiosk was a sheriff's car. We parked at the side of the road in front of it and got out as the door opened and a uniformed man put his hat on and joined us.
    “Morning, ladies. I'm Deputy Warren Gonzales. Happyto meet you.” He extended his hand and we shook it in turn, introducing ourselves.
    “Hope you had an easy drive,” he said.
    We assured him we had.
    “Tell you what I think we should do. You've got the map of the park.” We had just been given it. “This is the parking area we'll go to.” He circled it. “We can leave our cars there and start to climb. You ladies got good shoes on?”
    I was wearing sneakers, and Joseph had sturdy shoes. Deputy Gonzales looked at them and frowned.
    “I'll be fine,” Joseph said. “Shall we follow you?”
    “If you wouldn't mind.”
    There were several parking areas, each of them near a trail with the difficulty marked. Deputy Gonzales drove slowly, then signaled his turn. Before he left the car, he put a sun shield in the front of his window. We hadn't thought to buy one, so Joseph parked with the front of the car facing away from the sun. We each took a bottle of water along, to the approval of the deputy.
    “OK, let me show you where we're going.” He opened his map of the park, put an X in the parking area where we stood, and traced the trail with his finger. “As I remember, the body was about up here.” He pointed. “Not on the trail but down off the side of it. We won't be able to get to that exact point, but I can show you where we found his backpack. That your husband we faxed the file to, Ms. Bennett?”
    “Lt. Jack Brooks. That's my husband. I have the file with me. We've both looked it over.”
    “Real nice fellow, your husband. So you have an idea what I found when I got here that day. OK, if you're ready, let's start up the trail.”
    He led, stopping from time to time to let us rest. As we went, he gave us some history. The Civil War battle of PicachoPass had taken place here in the spring of 1862, half a century before Arizona became a state. The sun was high now, the sky an amazing bright blue without a hint of clouds. I was glad I had thought to take along a straw hat. Without it, I would have been in bad shape. I was concerned about Joseph's comfort, but she didn't seem any worse off than I was. Deputy Gonzales, a trim man with a touch of gray, mopped his face once or twice, but apparently had a pair of legs used to hard work.
    The scenery was beautiful. Deputy Gonzales told us that in the spring the entire mountainside was covered with wildflowers. “Real pretty,” he said. “People come from all over to see it.”
    “How long have you been with the sheriff's department, Deputy Gonzales?” I asked.
    “'Bout twenty-five years. And I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Warren. We're pretty casual here in Arizona.”
    “Thank you. I'm Chris.”
    He gave me a smile. “We're almost there.”
    We had been hiking for almost half an hour, and I was glad to hear that the end was in sight. I would have given anything for a gallon of ice water, but my quart bottle was keeping me in good shape. As I looked left and right, I could see the occasional hiker on another path. Two people came downhill as we went up, and we moved aside to let them through. They were young and cheerful and told us it was beautiful up ahead.
    “OK, ladies,” Warren called down to us. He had gotten some distance from us and now he stood and waited as we climbed more slowly. “Just around this bend.”
    We joined him and turned the corner, leaving the trail we had covered out of our field of vision. Another minute and he stopped.
    “Just about here,” he said. “The backpack was aboutwhere I'm standing. Down there,” he pointed to a steep incline, “right where that stand of trees is—that's where we saw his body.”
    “So the trees stopped