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P
at Casey stood on the path and looked down into the ravine. “Who is he?” he asked.

I don't know,” Jesse replied. “I was sitting on a rock up there a few yards. I had just finished my lunch when I heard somebody shout, or maybe it was more of a scream.”

“Did you see him go over?”

“No, in fact I almost didn't see him at all. I walked back down the path to about here and looked around, but it had begun to snow, and I didn't see anything at first. Then the red jacket caught my eye.”

“Did you try to help him?”

“Are you kidding? How the hell was I going to get down there? I'm not a mountain goat.” Jesse looked down the path and saw half a dozen people coming; two carried a stretcher, the others had rope and equipment.

“Okay, you guys,” Casey called out, “he's right down there; go to it.” He turned back to Jesse. “What were you doing up here, Jesse?”

“I come up here once or twice a week to eat my lunch.”

“You were eating lunch outdoors in this snow?”

“It hadn't started when I got here; it had only just begun when I heard the sound.”

“You're going on your honeymoon tonight, aren't you?”

“We're getting a nine o'clock plane from Spokane.”

Casey nodded noncommittally. “Merv, don't you fall down there with him! Be careful!” he yelled at the rescue party, who were halfway down the incline. “Maybe you better wait a few days before you go, Jesse.”

“I can't do that, Pat; we've got a big order for plywood, and we have to start on it the week after next. We'll be on it well into the spring, and I promised Jenny and Carey San Francisco.” He looked down the path and saw Kurt Ruger walking toward them through the snow. In his suit, tie and overcoat he looked distinctly out of place.

“Hey, Kurt,” Casey said.

“What's going on, Pat?” Ruger asked.

“We got a guy all the way down there in the creek; don't know who it is yet.”

Ruger nodded, and he was looking straight at Jesse. “Did you throw him down there?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jesse said. “I don't even know who the guy is; why would I want to throw him down there?”

Casey spoke up. “Jesse says he was having lunch up there a ways, and he heard the fellow holler. Could be he slipped right about here; the path's narrow, and it slopes that way.”

“Barron did it,” Ruger said.

Jesse squared toward Ruger. “Now you wait just a goddamned minute before you start accusing me of murdering people. Do you know who that guy is? Do you know something about this?”

Ruger looked down the incline to where a stretcher was being hauled up, but he said nothing.

“Now we'll get a look at him,” Casey said, grabbing a rope and helping to haul the stretcher onto the path. He pulled back the blanket. “It's George Little,” he said to Ruger. “He works for you; what was he doing up here?”

“See if he has his gun,” Ruger said.

Casey pulled open the man's coat. “Right there in its holster; the safety tab is still on. Doesn't look like he was about to use it.”

“Your pal Jesse killed him,” Ruger said. “I suggest you lock him up while I tell Jack Gene about this.”

“Lock me up?” Jesse said, outraged. “I don't even know the man. Just what the hell are you talking about?”

“Come with me, Kurt,” Casey said, walking farther up the path. Ruger followed him, and they spent five minutes arguing and gesturing at each other. They came back to where Jesse stood. “You come on with me, Jesse; we're going to see Jack Gene.” He glanced at Ruger, then back at Jesse. “Bring your truck; you can follow me up there.”

Ruger glowered at Jesse.

 

Coldwater seated the three in his study and looked at them. “All right, what's happened?”

“George Little is dead,” Ruger said. “Barron threw him off a mountain.”

“I don't even know George Little,” Jesse said.

Ruger started to speak, but Coldwater held up a hand. “One at a time; you first, Jesse.”

“I went up on the mountain behind the plant to eat my lunch; I do that every so often; there's a nice view. I had just finished eating when I heard somebody yell or scream. I looked down the path, but there was nobody there. It had started to snow about that time, and it took me some time looking before I saw a
man in the creek, about two hundred feet down the mountain. I ran back to the plant and called Pat and told him to bring some men, then I waited there for him to arrive.”

“Pat?” Coldwater said.

“I've got no reason to contradict Jesse,” Casey said. “George was wearing a gun, but it was still in his holster and strapped in. I think it's true that Jesse didn't know him.”

Coldwater looked at Ruger. “All right, Kurt, let's have it all.”

Ruger looked embarrassed. “I've had George following Jesse for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't trust him, and I don't think you should either. There's something wrong about him, and I want to know what it is.”

“Jesse, did you know somebody was following you?”

“News to me; I didn't have a clue.”

“Let's get it all in the open right now, Kurt. Tell me exactly what's bothering you about Jesse.”

“He's gotten in too fast,” Ruger said. “What is it, three or four months? We haven't had time to check him out thoroughly.”

Casey spoke up. “Checking him out is my job, Kurt, and he has been
very
thoroughly checked.”

“It's happened too fast, Pat,” Ruger said. “You're getting sloppy.”

“There was
nothing
sloppy in my investigation of Jesse,” Casey said. “I think you know that, Jack Gene.”

Coldwater turned to Ruger again. “All right, Kurt, tell me specifically what you know that Pat doesn't.”

Ruger sat very still and didn't speak for a moment. “I don't have any hard evidence; it's just a suspicion.”

“Have you confided this suspicion to Pat before now?”

“No, I haven't.”

“Kurt, you know how we work here; if you had a problem with security on Jesse, you should have gone to Pat with it, or at least come to me.”

“I didn't have anything definite,” Kurt said. “Not until now.”

“And what do you have now?” Coldwater asked.

“He killed George, that's what.”

Jesse spoke up. “Pastor, this is ridiculous. I didn't know the man, had never laid eyes on him. Why would I kill him?”

“Because he caught you at something,” Ruger said.

“Caught me at
what?
”

“I don't know, do I? What were you doing up that mountain?”

“Eating my lunch; I already told you that.”

Coldwater spoke up again. “Jesse, please wait outside for a moment, would you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jesse replied. He got up and went into the hall, closing the door behind him, and sat on a bench. He could hear nothing from inside the study. This could not have happened at a worse time, he thought; a few more hours and he would have been on his way. Why the hell hadn't he watched his back more carefully? The door to the study opened, and Casey waved him inside. Jesse resumed his seat and waited.

Coldwater looked at Ruger. “Kurt, I believe you have something to say to Jesse.”

Ruger turned toward him. “Jesse, I'm sorry; my suspicions were unfounded, and I now believe the death of George Little to have been an accident.”

“Thank you, Kurt,” Jesse said. He turned to Coldwater. “I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful in this, but I honestly had never seen the man before.”

“I know that, Jesse,” Coldwater said. “You go on to San Francisco; you deserve a good honeymoon. This
matter is closed.” He rose, and the others stood with him.

Jesse eyed the bookcase that concealed the safe. If he'd just had more time, he thought, he might have gotten inside it.

 

Back at the plant he told his story to Herman Muller. “I'm sorry to have been away all afternoon, Herman, but—”

Muller held up a hand. “Of course, I understand, Jesse.” He glanced at his watch. “If you're going to make your plane to San Francisco, you'd better get going. You and Jenny have yourselves a nice honeymoon.”

Jesse couldn't leave yet. “Herman, you've been very kind to me, and I want you to know I'm grateful.”

“Don't mention it; you're doing a fine job for me.”

“Herman, I've gotten the impression that Kurt Ruger has been trying to buy the business from you. I know it's none of my affair, but I'm concerned about it.”

“Don't you worry; I'm going to die running this business,” Muller said.

“I hope you do, sir. I just think you ought to be real careful with Ruger. It would be better to sell than to get into a fight with him, I think.”

Muller regarded him through half-lidded eyes. “Jesse, I believe you've been listening to rumors around here about my grandson.”

“It's been mentioned,” Jesse said. “I'm just worried that if Ruger wants the business bad enough, well—”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Muller said, “and I've taken precautions. Don't you worry about it. You go to San Francisco and have a wonderful time, then you come back here raring to go. We've got a big year ahead of us.”

Jesse shook his hand and turned to go.

“And while you're there, you be sure to have dinner at Ernie's. I haven't been to San Francisco in years, but I remember that restaurant fondly.”

“I'll do that, Herman,” Jesse said, then left the office.

 

When he got home, Jenny and Carey were standing on the front porch, shivering, talking to another woman. He climbed the front stairs.

“Jesse, have you met Margery Twomy?” Jenny asked.

Jesse smiled and shook the woman's hand. “I've seen you at church, Margery. I believe Carey is staying with you while we're on our honeymoon.”

“That's right,” she replied. “I've just come to get Carey now.”

“But she's coming to San Francisco with us for the weekend,” Jesse said. “She'll be back Sunday night.”

Jenny spoke up. “Jesse, I'm afraid that's not going to be possible. The school is having a special science workshop for Carey's class this weekend and next, and attendance is mandatory.”

Jesse's heart was pounding against his ribs. “Well, surely a weekend away wouldn't hurt,” he said.

“It's all right, Jesse,” Carey said. “I have to stay and go to the workshop. Maybe we can go to San Francisco another time.”

He looked down at the little girl. She didn't seem in the least upset about the sudden change in plans. “Whatever you say, honey.”

 

When Margery Twomy had left with Carey, Jesse took Jenny inside and put his arms around her. “I'm sorry,” he said, holding her away from him, pointing
at the ceiling and tapping his ear. “I know you were looking forward to showing her San Francisco.”

“It's all right,” she said. “We'll have a family vacation next year and take her there.” She laid her head against his shoulder and sobbed silently.

“Well,” he said, “If we're going to make that plane, we'd better get our luggage in the car and get going.”

 

All the way to Spokane, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror. Sometimes a car was there, sometimes it wasn't.

J
esse spent half an hour going through the suite at the Ritz-Carlton, looking for bugs, and he didn't find a thing. Apparently, Jack Gene Coldwater's arm was not long enough to reach inside a San Francisco hotel suite. He came back into the sitting room, where Jenny was curled up on a sofa, watching CNN on television.

“It's clean,” he said, and sat down next to her. “We can talk.”

“You understand that I can't leave without Carey,” she said quietly.

“Of course I do.”

“I was so excited about going abroad, but I'm excited about being in San Francisco, too. Can we see
everything?
”

“We sure can.” He picked up a phone, called the concierge and asked him to book a table at Ernie's for the following evening. “Herman Muller recommended it,” he told Jenny.

“I never thought of Herman as a restaurant critic,” she said, laughing. “What are you getting me into?”

“It's a famous restaurant, an old San Francisco
favorite.” He found a room service menu, and they ordered a late dinner.

“Have you ever been to San Francisco before?” she asked.

“Once, for a conference six or seven years ago. Mostly, it consisted of getting drunk with a lot of other agents.”

Her eyes widened. “You were some kind of agent?”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. You'll be a lot safer if you don't know any more than you do.”

“Jesse, we're married now,” she said firmly, “and I'm entitled to know everything. I've certainly told you everything about me.”

Jesse sighed and leaned back on the sofa. “All right, I guess it's time. You're not going to like some of this; I hope it doesn't make a difference to you.”

“You just tell me.”

“For a start, my name is Jesse, but not Barron; it's Warden.”

“Like a prison warden?”

“Like that. I'm a minister's son.”

“Uh, oh; you know what they say about the minister's boy.”

“And they're not far wrong. Oh, I started out as the straightest arrow you ever saw; then I became a cop for the federal government, and being a cop has a way of getting you bent.”

“How did you get bent?”

“I stole some money.”

“A lot of money?”

“Yes, some tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Why?”

He told her about Beth and her illness, and about Carrie.

“So the story about the wife and three daughters—”

“Was a cover; it was somebody else whose name I took. But Beth and Carrie were real, and they're gone.”

“I'm so sorry, my darling,” she said, running her fingers along his cheek, then kissing him. “That's more trouble than anybody should ever have in a lifetime. Where's Carrie now?”

“She was adopted when I went to prison, and I probably won't ever know where she is.”

Jenny put her arms around him and held him close. “I know how I would feel if I were separated from Carey,” she said, “so I know how you feel. Do you think there's any hope of ever finding her?”

“I'd like to think so, but I have to be realistic. That's why I was prepared to leave the country without her. Adoption agencies are a tough nut to crack, and I'm hardly in any position to try.”

“Why not?”

“There's a lot more that I haven't told you. I went to prison.”

“For stealing the money?”

“No, they never found out about that. It was drug money that we'd confiscated; I just swept it under the rug, and no record was ever made of it.”

“Why did you go to prison?”

“I was convicted of killing my partner and stealing a great deal more money, but I was innocent on both charges.”

“Then why were you convicted?”

“Because someone in my agency was determined that I would be. It was set up so that I would never have a chance, and, of course, I didn't. Somebody else wanted the money, and he was willing to kill my partner to get it.”

“How long were you in prison?”

“Fourteen months.”

“So short a time for such serious charges?”

“The man I used to work for and another agent, a friend, got me out, because they wanted something done.”

“What did they want done?”

“Jack Gene Coldwater.”

“They sent you to St. Clair alone to arrest Jack Gene?”

“To find out enough about him so that they could arrest him. I'm not a cop anymore, just a spy.”

“Does Jack Gene suspect?”

“No, but Kurt Ruger does. Not that he knows anything, he just suspects I'm not quite right.”

“Can he hurt you?”

“Not so far. There was a nasty incident earlier today, but Pat Casey and Jack Gene took my side.”

“What happened that was so nasty?”

“Do you know a man named George Little?”

“Yes, and he's pretty nasty, too.”

“I killed him this afternoon.”

She stared at him. “He wasn't
that
nasty.”

“He caught me making a telephone call to my contact in Washington. I was up on the mountain behind the plant, and I found an opportunity to push him into a deep ravine.”

“My God,” she said, putting a hand to her face. “There must have been some other way to handle the situation.”

“There was another way: I could have gone up to Jack Gene's house at gunpoint with George Little, and I'd be dead by now.”

She put her arms around him again. “In that case, I'm glad you did what you did. And if you have to do it again, you go ahead.”

The doorbell rang, and Jesse let the waiter into the room. They had a quiet dinner by candlelight, not talking much.

As they were finishing the wine, Jenny said, “Everything has changed, hasn't it? Nothing will ever be the same.”

“You're right,” he replied.

She raised her glass. “To nothing ever being the same again,” she said.

They touched glasses and drank. In bed they didn't make love; instead, they lay in each other's arms until they fell asleep.