Truman thought for a long time before answering. “I feel good here. Like I’m making a difference. Back home there were too many people. I rarely saw the same people every week unless they were career criminals. In Eagle’s Nest it isn’t crime that brings me in touch with the residents. It’s usually some sort of need, and I like the challenge of meeting those needs.”
“I imagine there isn’t that much real crime,” said Mercy.
“But I’m always busy. Whether it’s arbitrating arguments or pulling a truck out of a ditch. Every night when I go home, I ask myself what I could have done better. I look for more that can be done. I have more freedom here to make good things happen. I don’t have to fill out a form in triplicate to make a request. In Eagle’s Nest I can just do it.”
Her smile was wide. “You’ve impressed me, Chief Daly.”
Her words touched him. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m simply trying to do a job I love and leave things a little better behind me. The only bureaucracy is me and the city council. But Ina Smythe has them firmly under her thumb. And she likes me,” he added with a grin.
“I remember being scared of her when I was younger.”
“That’s understandable. She still intimidates me a bit.”
“It’s been interesting running into people I never thought I’d see again,” Mercy said slowly. “Inside I suddenly go back to being eighteen years old. It’s like the last fifteen years never happened. It’s a bit disconcerting.” Her mouth snapped shut, and she turned her head away from him, as if she’d revealed something highly personal.
Her sun-inspired happiness had evaporated. Whatever had driven Mercy Kilpatrick from town still affected her. Vulnerability had disrupted the FBI agent’s composed surface again in his presence. But it never lasted; it vanished within seconds.
Something was buried under her layers.
He was determined to keep digging. Gently. But he knew it was time to back off for the moment.
She moved behind him as the trail narrowed. It wasn’t really a trail, more of a faint, continuous flattening of the dirt. He inhaled the scent of sunbaked soil and junipers. It was a distinctively Central Oregon scent that he associated with his teenage summers. The path steepened and he worked his legs to maneuver around the lava rocks and pines. Their conversation drifted off, their concentration on their foot placement.
“Do you know this area very well?” Mercy was slightly out of breath.
“No. You?”
“Yes. We’re going to come out on a wide ridge about halfway up this peak in a few minutes.”
He wanted to ask her what she’d done in the area as a teenager, but he needed his breath for the climb. Ten minutes later the trail flattened and widened, revealing a beautiful view to the east. Truman stopped to take in the sights. “That’s incredible.” Acres of treetops covered the land in every direction. Owlie Lake was no longer visible. The land seemed to stretch out forever, revealing rolling tan fields beyond the trees.
“Kids came up here to smoke. And do other things,” Mercy said. She studied the area around them. “I don’t see any garbage left behind. I guess this area has fallen out of favor with the teenagers too. Maybe no one wants to hike these days.”
“I hadn’t heard it was a popular spot,” said Truman.
“Where are the hot spots these days?”
“Behind the Ralston barn. Along Milne Creek about a mile past the state campground.”
Mercy nodded. “Much easier to get to.”
“But easier for the cops to check out too. This would have been my choice of place if I was fooling around. None of my patrol officers would willingly make that hike to bust some kids.” Truman studied the face of the solid rock embankment behind them. It shot straight up for about fifty feet. The path appeared to continue to the north, veering away from the rock.
“Maybe the rumors of the cave man kept them away,” suggested Mercy. “Perhaps it’s not just generational laziness.”
“Maybe.” Truman still hadn’t made up his mind about the rumor. “Do you remember any caves around here?”
Mercy wrinkled her nose in thought. “There should be a hollowed-out area that’s a few dozen feet off the path not far from here. I wouldn’t call it a cave. Just a dip in the rock.”
“Let’s look.” He waved her ahead of him, and she followed the path to the north. A few minutes later, she broke off from the path and wound through some brush and rocks back to the rock face. They found Mercy’s hollow in the rock. It was quite deep.
“This is a lot deeper than I remember,” Mercy said. She stepped into the opening and moved her face close to the rock, running her fingertips along its rough surface. “It looks as if it’s been chiseled out more.”
“That’d take decades. I’d say it’s been blasted out.”
“That sounds dangerous.”