More than a week passed before I found myself once again in the canyon, listening to the echo of horse’s hooves clopping across the dry desert floor. The sun, burning down through the stone corridor, felt hot on my shoulders, its heat intensifying the scent of sagebrush and wildflowers.
In the busy days since my ordeal in the atrium, I’d seen Zane arrested and spent hours with Madsen and Steele, giving my statement and learning about the progress of their case against my best friend’s killer. The little brother I’d never really known.
The crime scene team had found the trace of a boot mark on the front of Clint’s shirt and matched it to Zane’s Tony Lamas, suggesting that Clint’s murder probably happened pretty much the way I’d imagined it.
In addition, they’d found a packet of powerfu
