Clawback by J.A. Jance

ain’t never seen him. He might of come up the back way, though—up Schnebly Hill. He does that sometimes, you know.”
    The adrenaline that had been holding Ali upright receded as quickly as it had come. For a moment she felt a little weak in the knees. Not trusting her ability to stand on her own, she leaned against the car door for support.
    â€œYes,” Ali agreed, when she found her voice. “He does like to come up the back way.”
    â€œWant me to check for you?”
    Rather than reaching for a cell phone that probably wouldn’t have worked anyway, the man pulled a walkie-talkie out of his shirt pocket. “Hey, Tom-Boy,” he said. “It’s Luke. Anybody seen Corpsman Bob around here today?”
    â€œNope, neither hide nor hair,” came the scratchy reply. “He generally checks in with me first thing.”
    Ali thought about the eleven cliff-hugging miles of Schnebly Hill Road between the homeless camp and Sedona. Her adjustable-ride-height, four-wheel-drive Cayenne was nimble and responsive, but even in it, the switchback riddled trip down from the Rim would be a challenge. Depending on road conditions, the descent might take as long as two and a half to three hours. A glance at her watch told her it was already going on three. If she drove that way and left immediately, she’d be lucky to make it back to civilization by evening when herds of elk would be on the move. And if she happened to find her father’s crashed Bronco somewhere along the way, what would she be able to do about it? Most of the trip she’d be out of cell phone range. No, given the circumstances, the freeway was probably her best bet.
    â€œYou think Corpsman Bob’s lying out there dead or hurt bad somewhere down on Schnebly Hill?” Luke asked.
    Ali bit her lip before she answered. “That’s what we’re afraid of. I could try driving that way, but I’m worried about it taking too long.”
    â€œLikely it would,” Luke said, “so don’t you be thinking about doing such any thing. One guy here, Owen, went through a hell of a divorce. All he got out of the deal was his Jeep, which he owns free and clear. He don’t have no insurance on it and no license, neither, so he don’t take it out on the highway. But if Corpsman Bob’s life is on the line, he’ll head down Schnebly Hill Road in a heartbeat.”
    Ali handed over one of her business cards. “If Owen finds anything and wants to be in touch, here are my phone numbers.”
    Luke took the tiny card in his huge, grimy paws and held it up to squint at it for a moment before stuffing it into his shirt pocket right along with the walkie-talkie.
    â€œWill do,” he said.
    â€œThank you, Luke,” Ali murmured as she opened the door of the Cayenne. “Thank you very much.”

10
    T he gravel pit was deserted when Alberto and Jeffrey arrived at five past three. “He stiffed us,” Alberto fumed. “The asshole stiffed us. He isn’t even gonna show. And why here? This place gives me the creeps.”
    It didn’t help that on the way down from Sedona there had been a Silver Alert posted for someone driving a white Ford F-150, which happened to be the same kind of vehicle they were driving. The plate license didn’t match theirs, of course, and it was unlikely that someone who was the subject of a Silver Alert would be driving around in a company truck loaded with landscaping equipment. Still, anything that sent additional scrutiny in their direction was worrisome.
    â€œCome on,” Jeffrey told him, getting out of the truck. “Have a cigarette. Don’t get yourself all worked up. He’ll be here. Maybe he’s just running late. Maybe there was traffic on I-17 or an accident.”
    Standing outside in the triple-digit temperatures in the gray expanse of gravel pit wasn’t fun, but standing in the heat was better than working in