"There was a sound, like a gun shot, but maybe a firecracker. If it was a shot, no telling where it was aimed." Dean also refrained from telling Fred they'd met Dickinson Faust at the Lucky Pup, most likely with Ginger Dawkins.
Two hours remained before the last of the day's celebrations- the Jeep flare parade down the mountain, followed by a massive fireworks display-so after finishing supper, the Deans began playing catch up with Bird Song's chores. When the phone rang for the fourth time, Dean assumed it was either a call for reservations or more discussion on the upcoming New Jersey wedding plans, but Cynthia held the phone against herself and called to her husband.
"It's Jennifer," she said. "She can't find her camera and wants to know if she left it in the Jeep." Dean went outside and checked, but it wasn't there. After Cynthia conveyed the news to Jennifer, she turned to her husband. "She thinks she set it down when we hid behind the boulder-after the shot. The camera isn't worth anything but she's really disturbed at losing her pictures. I told her you'd go back tomorrow and try to find it. Let's just hope it doesn't rain." Dean thought about the pictures, especially the one of Dickinson Faust standing next to his Jeep, with the woman's sweater hanging over the seat.
"Can't go tomorrow," Dean answered. "I have that Women's Club debate, and with Fred starting jury duty, this place will be short-handed." He thought a moment. "Why don't I go up now? It will be light for a couple more hours at least. I can be up and back before dark."
Cynthia frowned. "I hate to see you make that trip again. It's been a long day." But she didn't talk him out of it. She suggested he take the cell phone but then remembered it was useless in the high mountains. She cautioned him to be careful. "And don't you dare go in that mine!"
"You couldn't drag me in that place. Once is more than enough."
He would have hauled Fred along for company, but the old man had a date, so Dean was on his own. As he started his Jeep, Ginger Dawkins, light blue sweater slung over her arm, came up the street and gave Dean an innocent wave.
The town was choked with visitors, some already staking out their spots with folding chairs to view the later festivities-the last hurrah of the holiday. Once Dean turned from the highway, however, he had the road to himself. The way was totally familiar- twice today, three times in as many days. He made the entire trip up without seeing another vehicle, and the lords of luck were with him-Jennifer Radisson's camera was sitting in the crevice of a rock as if it were waiting for him. He gave only a glance up the path to the mine before returning to his Jeep.