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A motor home pulling a boat, and driven by one of the first tourists of the season, crawled along the highway ten miles below the speed limit. Shaun imagined the passenger, most likely the wife, pointing out the snow-capped peaks in the distance and the bright green of the pines that lined the road. The double yellow that marked the center of the asphalt that twisted and rolled through the countryside, along with steady on-coming traffic, kept him from passing the large vehicle in front of him. Reaching Vince on the radio, he explained his ETA at the lodge, then sent his deputy there ahead of him. Attempting again to contact Ethan, Shaun sighed with relief when the call went through, but then swore when Ethan’s voicemail sounded in his ear.
Setting his phone and coffee cup on the dini
