CHAPTER TWENTY

She had not even been tempted to drive to Jessie's cabin. She was still very angry at both Jessie and herself. And for the life of her, she couldn't imagine what had happened. Maybe that was what Jessie was used to. A quick fuck and hey, see you around. But that had never been Chris' style. Even her teasing words to Jessie about making trips to Sacramento to the bars was mostly talk. Only once had Chris taken a woman up on her offer and then, only after several drinks. She had regretted it the next morning and hadn't been back since.

But with Jessie, Chris had allowed her attraction for her to overtake her good sense. But what they had done, however brief, could hardly be called making love. And on the ledge, for God's sake. Had they actually been in the throes of passion, they could have both tumbled off into the canyon.

But it didn't matter. Lesson learned. And it was true. Jessie had tried to warn her, she admitted. She just hadn't believed it.

It was after the third day and no sign of Jessie that Chris broke down and drove to cabin number seven. She found it empty. The door was locked and she walked around to the back porch. The chairs were standing neatly against the cabin and she pressed her face against the window and peered inside. Empty. All of Jessie's things were gone and Chris told herself that she was glad, that she didn't want anything more to do with Jessie Stone, but she knew she was lying. She really was worried about her. Without realizing what she was doing, she stopped the Jeep at Mary Ruth's and met her on the porch.

"Oh, she left three days ago. Didn't even see her, though. There was just a note and the key left on the porch here."

Chris figured Jessie must have gone straight to the cabin and packed and left that same night. Well, it was probably for the best.

Her days got back to normal. The excitement over the murders had died down, like they knew it would, and their weekends were again busy with hikers and campers hitting the trails before winter came. They were well into September and the first snowfall of the season wouldn't be far behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jessie waited in the reception area, for once early for her appointment. She wore black jeans and a black vest, with a wrinkled white T-shirt underneath, comfortable in her athletic shoes. Probably the only one in the building who was. High heels and hose, suits and ties were everywhere. Back in the city, she thought. She had been back nearly two weeks, but she had not left her apartment once. She had sat for hours, just thinking. She thought of Chris a lot, especially of how they had left things between them. She wondered if Chris would ever forgive her. She wouldn't blame her if she didn't. She thought of Annie, too. She wondered what she would be like and she acknowledged that she didn't really know her. They had shared a house for seventeen years, but Jessie had no idea of her likes and dislikes or anything else about her. Chris had been right. She probably did know Annie better than Jessie ever would. She tried not to think about Jack but long buried memories kept creeping in, memories that she wished she could still forget.

"Ms. Stone, she's ready," the receptionist told her pleasantly.

Jessie walked confidently into Dr. Davies office and offered a smile.

"Well, so glad you're back. I was surprised to find your name on the appointment list."

Jessie shrugged.

"You look well. Did everything go okay?"

Jessie didn't know where to begin so she just blurted out the words that she still found hard to say.

"Jack sexually abused me."

She expected shock, disbelief. Not the quiet nod that she got.

"What? That's it?" Jessie asked.

"I suspected as much, Jessie. But you had to remember yourself, I couldn't put that idea in your head."

"You suspected? How?"

"Jessie, let's talk about how you discovered this? Did you talk to your mother, to Annie?"

"No. I couldn't bring myself to see her. I met someone who knew her, though." But she didn't want to go over it all again. She had thought of nothing else for the past two weeks. She stood up suddenly, pacing in front of the desk. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Jessie, sit down."

"No. I don't want to sit," she said, still pacing. "It just came to me. I think maybe I knew, I don't know. Chris kept asking about my childhood, you know, but I didn't remember. I kept telling her I didn't remember."

"Who is Chris?"

"She works there, she knows Annie. She knew who I was," she explained hurriedly. "We had an argument about Annie, about Jack. She told me some things that I didn't know, that I didn't remember." Jessie walked back and forth in front of the desk, her mind reeling. "That night, I went up on the mountain. Something just pulled me up there. And I sat . . . and I remembered," she finished in a whisper. "I remembered it all."

"Jessie, please sit."

"No, damnit! I don't want to sit. I've been sitting for two weeks. I'm angry. And I want to know why?"

"Why? Why he did it?"

"Yes. I want to know why? Was it Annie's fault? Was it my fault?"

"Jessie, we'll never know why. We just have to work through this and we can, now that you know."

"No. I can come here and we can talk this to death, but what will that solve? It's not going to change anything," she said.

"No, you're right. It wouldn't change anything. But most importantly, you must know that it wasn't your fault. You were a child. You were the victim."

"But why?"

"There could be numerous reasons, Jessie. I can list off clinical answers for you if you want. But let's talk about you. Let's talk about how you feel."

"How I feel?  How the fuck do you think I feel?"

"Jessie, I know you're angry. You should be angry. But at least you feel something."

Jessie stopped her pacing and stared at her. Yes, at least she felt something. She couldn't have said that a month ago. A month ago, she just felt dead.  

"I'm going back," she stated. "I want to see her."

"That's a good start. Perhaps after we've had a chance to work through this, you'll be able to see her, to talk to her about your childhood. Your mother may have no idea what happened."

"No. Look, I'm not deranged, I'm not suicidal. I don't want to murder my mother, despite what you may think after reading my books." Jessie leaned on the desk and faced Dr. Davies. "I just want my life back."

"And you should, Jessie. You will. But it's not just a matter of accepting this and going about your life. You will have bad moments. You will still remember things that you don't even remember now. We'll work through it and you can still live a normal, healthy life."

"You don't understand. I'm not going to work through this by coming to you and talking about it. I think I only came today to be able to say it out loud to someone. I've been sitting in my apartment for two weeks, working through it. Yes, at first, I thought it was my fault, that I'd done something to deserve it. Then I thought it must be Annie's fault. But last night, I finally realized that Jack was the only one to blame. And I can be as angry with him as I want to be, but he's not here anymore. And you're right. I haven't had a life. Not yet. And I don't want to waste any more time. So I'm going back to see her, to talk to her."

"And I think you should, Jessie. But you need guidance. You need someone to talk to about your fears, and you will have them."

"I think I have someone there I can talk to," she said. "That is, if she'll still want to talk to me."

"Annie?"

"No.  Chris. If anyone will understand, it's Chris," she said, hoping it was true.

"How do you know this? She's someone you've known for what, a few weeks?"

"I just know."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Chris was out on horseback, following the South Rim Trail. Ever since the car accident, it seemed every nut from the city had decided that Sierra City was the place to be. Two weeks ago, a body had been found. A man in his mid-twenties had been shot in the head and dumped in the forest. Roger and Ellen had stumbled across the body when they were out on their evening walk. He was the younger brother of a jailed drug dealer in San Francisco. Eight days ago, a small plane had gone down, some twenty miles into the forest. There were no trails and Chris led a group of rescuers and a sheriff's department evacuation unit into where they thought the plane had gone down. It had taken them three days to find the plane. There had been no smoke and no fire. The plane had simply disappeared into the forest. The plane was still relatively intact when they found it, along with about a million dollars worth of cocaine.

Today, they were searching for a runaway. A teenaged girl had left her parents a note and had taken a backpack and enough food for a couple of days. They hadn't approved of her boyfriend and had forbidden her to see him. So, she ran away to be with him. Of course, the boy had no idea. He was safe at home, in a small town about thirty miles north of Sierra City. They had searched every part of the forest that they thought she might have traveled through and had turned up nothing.

"What do you think?" Bobby asked her for the fourth time.

"I think this week sucks," she said. She was tired and she hadn't had a decent meal in eight days. She wondered if she had even left food out for Dillon. She had scarcely seen him in two weeks. "And I thought Yosemite was busy."

They camped near the Nevada Trail that night, their third and her seventh in a row. She radioed Roger when they had the fire going.

"For her to have made it this far in three days, she would have had to have been jogging the whole way. We both know that didn't happen."

"I agree," he said. Chris thought he sounded tired and realized that it had been a tough week for him, too. "Come on back tomorrow. We'll concentrate closer to home, even though no one's found a sign of her."

"Ten-four."

The next morning, Roger woke them. "Good news. Found the kid."

"Where the hell was she?"

"San Francisco. She left the note as a decoy and hitched to the city."

"Son of a bitch," Chris said.

"Yeah, I know. Come on home. Let's hope things slow down. Maybe we'll get a snowstorm or something."

They wasted no time and even the horses seemed like they didn't want to spend another night on the trail. It was full dark when they got back, exhausted.

Chris stood in the shower, her eyes closed as the hot water soothed her aching muscles. Dillon waited patiently on the toilet seat for her to finish. When the hot water ran out, she turned it off and stepped out, drying herself with a thick towel.

"Miss me?" she asked him as he rubbed against her legs.

She had actually taken the time to stop at Ellen's and pick up something for dinner. She had vegetables sautéing, garlic bread in the oven and linguine ready to boil. After dinner, she sat on the sofa, feet stretched out on the coffee table, sipping wine. Dillon was curled in her lap and she rubbed his ear while he purred.

The knock on the door startled her and she called for them to come in without turning around. Roger stuck his head inside.

"Feel like company?"

"Sure, come on in."

He brought his customary six-pack of beer and he put it in the fridge and took a cold one of hers.

"Hell of a week," he said.

"No doubt," she agreed. "I hope that kid is grounded for life."

He joined her on the sofa and they both put their feet up, staring at the painting over the fireplace.

"Annie?" Roger asked.

"Yeah. You like it?"

"It's good. I'm glad she's found a friend," he said.

"I like her."

"Yeah. Good for you, too, huh?"

"She is. And she cooks. An added bonus."

Chris swirled the wine in her glass absently. Jessie had been weighing heavy on her mind and she was tired of keeping her presence this summer a secret. She wouldn't dare tell Annie, but maybe Roger. She sighed. It had been over a month, but still, she thought of her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You just sighed."

"So?"

"So, you've been . . . I don't know, different."

"Different? I've not been different," she said a little testily.

"McKenna, I know you. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Chris stared at him, then reached out and grasped his arm.

"If I tell you something, you swear you won't tell a soul? Not even Ellen?"

"What the hell is going on, McKenna?"

"You swear?"

"Okay, I swear," he said dramatically. "Now tell me."

"There was a woman staying here at one of Mary Ruth's cabins a month or so ago. I sort of became friends with her."

"A woman, McKenna? You met a woman and it's a big secret?"

"Jessie Stone."

"What the hell? Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure."

"How do you know it was her?"

"Goddamn it, Roger, I told you, we became friends."

"Jessie Stone? Here?"

"Here."

"Jesus Christ, McKenna. And you didn't tell Annie?"

"I didn't tell anybody. I first met her out on Ridge Trail, the spot where Jack fell. I knew who she was from her picture but she introduced herself as Jennifer Parker."

"What the hell was she doing here?"

"You're being difficult, Roger. Let me tell the damn story."

"Sorry. I just can't believe, after all these years, she came back."

"I think she came back with the intention of seeing Annie. She's got some problems, some issues, her therapist says. She can't remember much about her childhood, well her later childhood, anyway. And she damn near hates Annie, although I don't think even she knows why. Something happened to her, Roger and I hate to say this, but I really think Jack abused her. Sexually."

"No, McKenna. I told you, he loved her."

"Yeah, I think he did. I think he really loved her, Roger."

"Is that what she told you?"

"No, she can't remember. It's just stuff that you've told me and Annie's told me. And she's definitely got some problems. Sexual problems, too," she added.

"And you know this how?"

"Look, we didn't sleep together or anything, if that's what you're hinting at," she said. What they had done couldn't be lumped in that category, she knew. And she wouldn't tell Roger what had happened on the ledge that night, either. She doubted she would ever tell anyone that.

"So, what happened? Where is she?"

"She left. Right after the accident. We sort of had words, I told her that I was friends with Annie. I tried to make her see that Annie wasn't the one to blame but she didn't want to hear that. Anyway, I think she may have remembered. Something happened with her, anyway. And she just left. I never saw her again."

"And she never saw Annie?"

"No. And Annie would kill me if she found out that Jessie was here and I didn't tell her."

"Yes, my friend, I think she would."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jessie slipped her light jacket off before walking to Mary Ruth's cabin. It had been cold and damp when she'd landed in San Francisco but the sun was shining brightly here. She knocked and heard shuffling in the back of the house.

"Coming," Mary Ruth yelled from inside.

Jessie waited on the porch. Her quick turnaround trip had lasted eight weeks.  By the time she made arrangements for someone to look after her apartment, her editor had contacted her with revisions and she worked non-stop, trying to finish the book. She wanted nothing more than to be out of the city. Now, the days were cooler than when she'd left, although still warmish for early November. She took a deep breath, loving the crisp smell of autumn.

"Why, Miss Parker, I wasn't expecting you until this evening."

Mary Ruth opened the door and Jessie went inside, where the smell of freshly baked cookies surrounded her.

"I took an earlier flight, Ms. Henninger. Sorry I didn't call but I didn't think you would mind."

"Of course not. Your cabin's been ready for days. Come into the kitchen, dear. I need to put in another batch." Jessie followed her and her eyes were drawn to the pile of cookies sitting out to cool.

"Try one, Miss Parker. Chris won't mind sharing."

Jessie's heart fluttered at the mention of Chris' name and she looked at Mary Ruth quickly, certain that her face was flushed. "Chris?"

"They call her McKenna. She comes to visit on Wednesdays and I always like to have cookies for her to take home." She put another pan into the oven and turned back to Jessie. "I thought you knew her. In fact, Chris came asking about you after you left."

"She did? Yes, we met while I was here." So, she'd come looking for her. Maybe Chris wasn't as angry as Jessie had imagined.

"Good. She's a lovely girl, so thoughtful. No matter how tired she is, she always finds time to stop by."

Yes, that was Chris. Thoughtful.

"Here, dear. I've got your card all filled out. Just sign at the bottom."

Jessie did as she was asked and wrote out a check. She had to be out by December 20^th, at the latest, Mary Ruth had told her. All the cabins were booked after that for the holidays.

Jessie left her then, after Mary Ruth had handed her the key and shoved a small bag of cookies into her hands. Cabin number seven was as she had left it, although there was now a small stack of firewood stacked neatly on the porch.

As she unpacked the SUV she had rented, she realized how differently she felt this time around. She wasn't filled with the dread and apprehension that had consumed her in late August. Now, she was actually looking forward to the future, excited about the possibility of seeing Annie and just . . . talking to her. And Chris. She hoped Chris would give her the chance to explain. Jessie was still filled with guilt whenever she thought of that night up on Ridge Trail. And guilt was an emotion she had not experienced in a very long time. But Chris had offered her comfort, friendship, companionship, everything that Jessie had needed that night. And Jessie had simply thrown it in her face. She had made a mockery of their attempted lovemaking. If she were Chris, she wouldn't want anything more to do with her.  But then, she wasn't Chris.

That evening, before dark, Jessie put on her running shoes and jogged to the trailhead of Elk Meadow. It had turned colder as soon as the sun faded from view and she had pulled on sweatpants over her shorts. She ran, the dusk swallowing her, and for the first time in her adult life, she felt free. No long forgotten memories haunted her, no hatred filled her heart. She was starting over. And she would begin by seeing her mother.

It was after dark when she returned to her cabin and the stew that had been simmering all afternoon was ready. She took a bowl and a glass of wine to the back porch and ate there in the silence of the forest. She didn't hear the owls and she wondered if they had left when the weather turned colder and gone to lower elevations or if they had simply moved on to better hunting grounds.

Later, she put on her jacket and walked to the stream, making her way by the light of the moon, her breath frosty in the night air. She peered through the trees and saw no lights from Chris' cabin. Was she at the Rock House having dinner? Was she still working? Jessie shrugged and turned back. It wasn't Chris she was here to see.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

After Chris and Annie finished their dinner, they sat at the table to play a game of cards. Gin was Annie's favorite and they played that most often. She usually won, too. Chris had been able to put Jessie from her mind, despite the fact that Mary Ruth had casually mentioned that she was back. Chris told herself that she didn't care, that it wasn't any of her business. But Jessie could only be here for one reason. To see Annie. Chris needed to warn her, to prepare her, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Annie.

"I win again," Annie said, displaying her cards.

"I keep telling you, poker's my game," Chris said. She poured the last of the wine into her glass and knew that Annie would open another one. On the nights when she stayed for cards, they went through two bottles, even though Chris complained of a headache all the next day.

"Yes, Roger tells me how you've taken all their money." Annie smiled and dealt another hand.

Chris still enjoyed the nights that she came here. After Jessie had left, she had cancelled on Annie for a week or two, not feeling up to discussing her. But now, she usually had dinner with her twice a week, especially now that things had slowed down in the mountains. In the months that she had been coming here, Chris could notice the change in Annie. She smiled over the littlest things now and she showed much more interest in what was happening in town. They still discussed Jessie, but not always. Chris wondered if maybe Annie had transferred her feelings for Jessie to Chris. But that was okay, too. It wasn't like Chris had a mother figure in her life.

"Chris, why aren't you dating any of those nice men in town?" she asked suddenly.

Chris laughed, wondering why it had taken Annie so long to ask. Mary Ruth had asked after the first week.

"Where did that question come from?"

"You spend your free time visiting an old woman. Why aren't you out with some young man?"

"Annie, I'm . . . gay. I thought you knew that," she said easily.

"Gay? Well, I'll be."

"You didn't know?"

"Now how would I have known?"

Chris shrugged. "I thought everyone knew."

"It's not like I gossip with the locals, you know. But it just never occurred to me, I guess." She reached across the table and grasped Chris' hand. "It's okay, of course. It's none of my business what you do in your own bedroom."

Chris laughed again.

"Annie, there's not anything going on in my bedroom. I mean, this is Sierra City, not San Francisco."

Annie blushed.

"Well, you know, I read a lot. It's not exactly a foreign concept to me."

"Exactly what kind of books do you read?"

"Never you mind, young lady. Play your hand."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Chris met Roger for breakfast at the Rock House Café just like she had been doing nearly every morning since June. He had the Sacramento paper spread out on the table and she tapped his shoulder before sitting down.

"Morning," he said absently. "You're late."

"Thanks, Donna," Chris said, taking the coffee from her. She rubbed her forehead and shut her eyes, ignoring Roger.

"Chris, Dave's got fresh muffins," Donna said.

"Nothing for me, thanks,"

Roger put the paper aside and studied her. "Annie keep you up again?"

"Cards," she nodded.

"And?"

"Wine."

He laughed. "You're not as young as you used to be, McKenna."

"Tell me something new."

"Oh, Sheriff called me last night. They busted some guy in San Francisco that had the wallets of the Jackson boys."

"You're kidding. Is he the shooter?" she asked. This was the first news they'd had on the murders.

"Too early to tell. He really didn't know much. They've kept him in the dark through the whole investigation."

"Typical," she said.

"Yeah. I think they're hoping to get a lead on the girl."

"Roger, you know she's dead. It's been over two months."

"Yeah. Probably find her in the spring. Some poor sucker from the city will be out hiking off the beaten path and stumble over her."

Chris nodded and finished her coffee. "How's it looking today?"

"Slow for a Friday. The lodge is only half full this weekend. They're predicting a storm by Sunday though. Might be our first major snow storm."

They had had a few light dustings, but not much. Sierra Peak was nearly white, but there was no snow in Sierra City.

"Yeah. Then we can look forward to skiers and those damn snowmobiles. I hate snowmobiles, Roger."

Chris got up and pushed the chair back under the table, grabbing a few stray hash browns from Roger's plate. She fished a couple of bills from her pocket and tossed them on the table.

"See you at the office."

She went out into the sunshine and squinted, then quickly put on her sunglasses. Storm by Sunday? Hard to imagine with all that blue sky staring down at her now. She rubbed her forehead again. Damn Annie! When would she learn?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jessie paused at the trailhead to Elk Meadow, catching her breath. She had jogged at her usual time, hoping to meet Chris on the road. She was oddly disappointed when no Jeep passed her. She shrugged and started up the trail. She would run into her sooner or later, she knew. She also knew that she was hoping Chris could be the one to help her bridge the gap between Annie and herself. That is, if Chris would be willing.

She jogged the two-mile loop without really seeing it, her mind absorbed with the prospect of meeting Annie. She was surprised when she was again back at the trailhead. She slowed to a fast walk to cool down, then finally to a slow walk as she got off the road and hiked the stream to her cabin.

After her shower, she went about unpacking some of the personal things she had brought with her this time. She held up the painting that she had picked up years ago in San Francisco, elk grazing in a meadow, spring flowers all around them, mountains in the distance. It was this painting that had kept her sane all these years. There was already a nail over the fireplace, so she pulled a chair closer and hung the painting, getting down to see if it was straight.

Too low, but she shrugged. It would have to do. She had a few books, in case she got the urge to read and she put these on the small bookshelf. A clock for the kitchen and a spice rack that she'd bought in Sacramento went on the counter. Her crystal wineglasses had survived the trip intact and she put those away, along with the few other cooking utensils she had picked up after her flight. She added water to the vase on the table, taking a quick sniff of the fresh flowers. They would last a few more days, she thought.

She made a sandwich for lunch, taking it on the porch along with a glass of tea. Before long, a Steller's Jay spotted her and swooped down on the railing, eyeing her suspiciously. She pulled off a corner of the crust and tossed it for the bird, making a mental note to pick up some birdseed and a feeder. She had always enjoyed watching the birds at the feeders when she was growing up. She thought that must be one of Annie's hobbies, because neither she nor Jack ever filled the feeders that she could remember. But they were always full. She remembered now how Annie would sit on the back porch after dinner while she and Jack watched television or she did her homework. What was she doing out there by herself all those evenings? Watching birds? Thinking? Wishing she could enjoy their company in the living room? Jessie again felt a wave of loneliness and guilt settle over her. Her mother had spent most of her adult life in isolation, even in her own home.

Jessie stared out at the trees, wondering why she never asked her mother anything. As a child, was she so consumed with her father that she didn't even notice her mother? And later, so filled with resentment, that she couldn't stand the sight of her? Yes. She knew now what she didn't know then. She blamed Annie for what Jack had done to her.

But she didn't want to think about it now. She took her plate back inside and grabbed the car keys off the counter.

She drove back up Pine Street to the main road and turned towards town, passing the Ranger Station on her way. She spotted the dusty black Jeep around back and she was surprised at the tightening in her chest. She shook it off and drove slowly thought town, glancing down Nevada Street where the Rock House Café was. Only two cars were parked in front and she figured the lunch crowd had already gone. She turned her attention back to the road, passing the few shops that were still open this time of year. Most of the tourist shops closed after Labor Day, not to open again until May. The ones that were still open would probably close after the Christmas holidays. Just outside of town was the Pine Creek Lodge. It had been called the Sierra Lodge back when Jessie was a kid. It looked bigger now and she thought it must have been expanded. In those days, the rental shop was not there, she noted, as rows of mountain bikes stood chained to the rack.

A few miles outside of town, she turned left on the forest road, surprised at how familiar everything was to her. She had avoided this road when she had been here in August, but now, she drove confidently, knowing exactly where she was, remembering every turn. Suddenly, she clamped down hard on the steering wheel. There it was, the house she had grown up in, standing tall on the hill, like always. The trees were bigger, she noted, but little else had changed. The two-story log cabin looked as familiar to her now as it had sixteen years ago. She slowed to a crawl as she passed the driveway, looking at the fading geraniums planted around the mailbox. She sped up then, hoping Annie wasn't sitting on the back porch. She would hate to be caught spying this way. She had originally thought she would be able to turn in and drive right up to the house, but she had been unable to bring herself to do it. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? It had been sixteen years, after all. She had said some terrible things to Annie then. It wouldn't be surprising to her if Annie slammed the door in her face. She drove on up the road, past the old bridge that looked exactly the same. She stopped on the other side and got out, remembering the time she had caught hell from her father for going skinny-dipping in the stream one hot summer. Of course, she being the only girl with three boys hadn't helped. She must have been all of ten. She smiled slightly, remembering that carefree time in her life where the summers seemed to last forever. She tried to think of their names. Ricky Burton and his twin brothers, but their names wouldn't come to her. They had moved away the following year and she had lost her only playmates. But it didn't matter.  That was the last summer she remembered fondly. After that, well . . . things changed.

She drove a little farther on the forest road before turning around. She had lost the courage to see Annie today. She only slowed a fraction coming down the hill, turning to her left briefly to look at the house. She drove back through town, then on impulse, turned onto Nevada Street and stopped in front of the Rock House Café. What she really wanted was a cold beer.

There were only a handful of people in there this time of day. Only one table was occupied, the rest of the patrons sat at the bar. She walked to a corner booth, feeling the eyes of the locals on her. She didn't recognize any of them, but it had been a long time. She wondered if the man Jack used to call Tree still owned the bar. She had her answer when a giant of a man stepped from the kitchen and walked towards her.

"What can I get you, Miss?" he asked. His gray hair was cut close in a military fashion and the sleeves of his flannel shirt where rolled to his elbows. He had a white bar towel slung over one large forearm and a pen stuck behind his right ear. She thought he looked every bit the bartender.

"I'll have a draft beer, please," she said.

"Budweiser or Coors?"

"Budweiser will do."

"Coming right up." He ambled away, catching an order for another pitcher without even looking at the table behind him.

"Hey, Tree, did you hear about them catching that man that did in those two boys this summer?"

Jessie looked up at the table where the two men were sitting. Judging by their uniforms, they were two of the many locals who worked in the casinos in Reno.

"No, I hadn't heard," he said as he expertly topped off a cold mug, then proceeded to fill a pitcher with the same.

"I just saw Roger on the street. They arrested some guy in San Francisco who had their wallets. Ends up being some big drug thing, Roger said. Seems Senator Jackson's boys got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

"Folks will forget about that come election time, Ray." Tree put down a napkin and sat her mug on top of it. "Here you go, Miss."

"Thank you."

"Run a tab?"

"Oh, no. This will be all." She took out a crumbled five-dollar bill from her jeans pocket. "How much?"

"Buck fifty," he said. He smiled at her and she noticed that his eyes were nearly the same color as his hair.

"In that case, I will have another and keep the change."

"Sure thing, Miss."

She took a long swallow of the cold beer. She rarely drank beer in New York. Wine was her favored drink. She wondered why she felt inclined to drink it here. Even in August, she had enjoyed a cold beer after her afternoon hikes. She sat there quietly, playing with her napkin. When her beer was finished, she motioned for Tree to bring her the other one.

Just then the door opened and Tree stopped on his way to her booth.

"McKenna," he greeted.

"Tree. Seen Roger?"

Jessie heard the too familiar voice and she sat back against the seat, her pulse pounding. The last place she wanted to run into Chris was the local beer joint.

"Nah. He never comes in before four-thirty. Ray said he seen him out front earlier." Tree brought her new mug and set it down on a fresh napkin. "Here you go, Miss."

"McKenna, he was heading out to the campgrounds," one of the men called to her.

"Okay, thanks."

Jessie heard the door close and breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she would have to see Chris sooner or later but she hoped that meeting could be held in private. After all, the last time Jessie had seen her, they had been on the ledge, Chris wanting to make love to her, and she wanting . . . well, some sort of punishment.

Part 6

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