As they circled an outcrop of rock, they were surprised to see a yellow open-top Jeep parked behind the boulders, invisible from below. Its arrival pre-dated theirs, as it would have passed them back in the basin. Dean recognized the markings as a rental from town, but it was not the same vehicle either of the Dawkins brothers were driving. Dean glanced inside as he passed. A woman's pale blue flowered sweater was draped over the passenger seat.

"Don't be so nosy," Cynthia said as she looked over his shoulder.

"Is someone in the mine, do you suppose?" Jennifer asked, caution written on her words.

"Joseph Dawkins said he was sealing it up, so I don't think so," Dean answered.

"Probably just sightseers like us," Cynthia said, taking her husband's hand and leading him away.

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A small rock trickled down, bouncing and skipping before stopping by Dean's shoe-the slight noise was a rumble in the mountain stillness. He looked up but saw nothing. The others had heard it as well and all eyes peered upward. They waited, and after a few seconds there was the distinct sound of movement above them. A few moments later, Dickinson Faust stepped into sight. He smiled hesitantly, as if caught with the last piece of pie.

Faust wore new hiking shorts that exposed bowed legs as white as winter. His shirt was untucked and Dean glanced at his fly, wondering if he'd been caught using a tree for a call of nature. The attorney quickly recovered and half slid, half ran down the slope next to his Jeep where they were standing, covering his shiny black shoes with dust in the process and nearly falling on the seat of his creased shorts.

"Great to see you up here, Jennifer!" he said as he recovered, sounding almost as if he meant it. He looked at Dean. "You're the guy I met in the coffee shop, aren't you?"

"One and the same. Small world, isn't it?"

When Dean didn't introduce himself, Faust gave Jennifer what he meant as an "old boy" pat on her arm and added, "Checking out the property one last time?" Wink, wink.

She pulled back and shook her head at the absurdity of his entrance. "What's your excuse for being here?" she asked.

He just laughed, ignoring the question and turned instead to Cynthia, extending his hand and introducing himself.

Cynthia smiled and asked, "Jennifer's question is legitimate. What are you doing here?"

She stepped back as Jennifer Radisson pointed her camera at Faust and his Jeep-and the blue sweater-and snapped a picture. The look on his face was anything but pleased. He retrieved his confidence at once.




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