“What trail today?” Dad asks. It’s Sunday morning and he’s going to take Bobby Ray and me to our hike.
“The Lighthouse,” I say quickly.
Bobby Ray groans. “What is it with you and the Lighthouse? We still have one trail left on our list, remember? The Rojo Grande.”
“I know.”
“Rojo Grande it is,” Dad says. “Load your packs in the back end. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll go get Héctor,” I tell Bobby Ray on the way to the truck.
“He’s not coming,” he says.
“Why?”
“’Cause they go to church on Sundays.”
“But that means he’ll miss two of his hikes.”
“Prob’ly not a big deal. He’s going with us to headquarters tomorrow. If you’re worried about it, you can check with Warden Winnie.”
That’s not what I’m worried about. I need to squeeze more information out of Héctor.
Bobby Ray and I finish up the Rojo Grande Trail fast.
Dad grills chicken breasts for dinner, to go with spinach salad. Because it’s Sunday, he’s taken over cooking supper.
“Why so quiet, Cassie? Boots still bothering you? Blisters flaring up?”
“No. Just thinking.”
He takes the meat off the grill and sets it on the opposite end of the picnic table from Ti, whose leash is fastened to a table leg. Ti lifts his nose, sniffing the aroma of chicken. I pinch off a piece and feed it to him.
“He’s getting pretty spoiled with you here,” Dad says. “Be hard on him when you leave.”
“Maybe Héctor could keep him company. You know, some of the time.”
“Looks like they’ll be staying here. I’ll be heading on down the road all by my lonesome.”
“No, you won’t.” I grin, but my heart’s not in it. “You’ll have Ti.”
“Yep,” he says, nodding. “I’ve got Ti.”
“Um, where are the Garcías going to live?”
“They’ll be leaving their camper here.”
“But where will they go to school?”
“In that town where we shop. A school bus will pick them up out on the road.”
“Oh, that’s good. There’s a college in town, too.”
“So there is.” He looks at me. “Believe Glinda’s folks teach there. Bobby Ray’s dad from time to time. Hear he might be applying for a full-time position.”
“Oh, yeah?” I sit up straight. “Wouldn’t it be great if you could stay here, too?”
“No can do,” he says, glancing at the canyon walls. “The wider world calls.”
That night while Dad’s out taking a shower, I hear a familiar clink.
Ears alert, Ti turns his head in the direction of the red toolbox.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper.
Slipping out the door, I walk behind the camper so that I’m hidden from view. When I reach the front end, I open the toolbox and feel inside.
It’s there . . . an envelope.
I walk to the back of the Winnebago where I’m hidden again. My hands tremble as I open the envelope and pull out the contents.
“Wha—What’s this . . . ?”
I fumble over the envelope, patting it for small, sharp objects.
“But I don’t understand,” I murmur into the darkness.
Worried that Dad will be returning soon, I replace the contents of the envelope and return it to the toolbox.
Inside the camper, I sink down next to Ti. “Just a bunch of papers, no arrowheads. What does it mean, Ti? Why would papers be kept secret?”
Ti flexes his paws on the journal.
“There’s nothing to write in it,” I tell him. “Same old suspicions. No new clues. At least, none that make sense. What do I do now?”
Only one thing left, I think. Héctor’s my only hope.