I stared again at the deceptively cheery-looking laminated schedule.
“My plan didn’t work,” I informed it. “But at least there weren’t any cowboys involved.”
My phone buzzed as I stared at the ashes of somebody else’s mistake, still smoldering at my feet.
The southern ridge looked harmless from a distance, just another stretch of scrub and rock rolling down toward the tree line, but up close you could see where it had been used. The grass was trampled in a wide circle, the dirt packed in strange, uneven patches. Someone had built a camp here in a hurry and left even faster.
“It’s still hot,” Jett said, crouching near the blackened ring. “We probably missed the party by minutes.”
I nudged a charred log with the toe of my boot. It crumpled in on itself. A beer can lay half buried in the
