It made sense now-most, if not all of it. The answers fell into place, one after another like a child's wooden puzzle, and even absent the last lingering block, the finished the picture was finally clear. It would end where it began-at the Lucky Pup Mine. If Dean wasn't too late. Fred O'Connor was instructed to call Jake Weller and tell him where they were located, but Dean couldn't wait. He knew they'd be there-Cynthia and Martha were in danger.
Once again, Dean motored his Jeep to the south, into the mountains and under the sun-dappled aspens, leaving a plume of dust behind him as he climbed higher and higher. World class vistas, trickling silver rivers of high snow melt-off, sky as blue as a queen's velvet robe, and the green and grey of forest and rock towering in every direction-all went unseen. Dean witnessed none of it as he surged upward, climbing above all but the highest ridges as the narrow track stretched toward the timberline. The tourists were left below and Dean was alone save the sounds of nature on the rocky rutted path as his Jeep's tires clawed upward.
The tracks of the vehicle that preceded him were clear in the dust of the turnoff, and he knew he'd guessed correctly as he neared the now-familiar meadow below the mine. Dean's heart began to race as he caught sight of Cynthia and Martha at the edge of the rocks near the edge of the path leading to the entrance of the Lucky Pup. He pulled to a stop, jumped from the Jeep, and ran up to them. Relief washed over him once he knew they were safe. Cynthia held her young charge tightly about the shoulders. Both were unhurt but frightened.
"Where is he?" Dean asked.
His wife motioned toward the mine entrance out of sight in the rocks and trees. "Up there. He has a key to the mine gate."
"Does he know?"
"I think so," Cynthia answered.
"He was acting awful funny," Martha said, alarm showing on her face. "He kept asking me weird questions about my e-mail. I haven't been near a computer since before I left." Cynthia looked at Dean knowingly but said nothing as Martha continued. "We didn't want to come up here but he wouldn't listen. There were lots of pretty flowers down below but he kept driving. He wanted us to go into the mine with him but when he saw you coming he went up alone."
"He has a gun," Cynthia said, as if hesitant to speak in front of the young girl. She hugged Martha tighter. "I saw it in his pocket."