Five

Barrett did not like mountain hikes, but he’d learned early on to do whatever it took to keep his family and McCreary Energy safe. If that meant meeting this earth muffin in secret on a mountaintop, then he’d do it.

While they climbed, Barrett let Scott yammer about protecting the environment and people’s health. As if the bonehead knew anything about saving people. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness probably came next on Scott’s list of talking points.

Barrett was beyond happiness; pursuing it for himself would be a waste of time.

Scott strode along the trail ahead of Barrett. “I want you to know I appreciate you meeting me.”

Barrett thought about swatting the back of Scott’s head. “You said you wanted to talk about groundwater on the Hopi reservation.”

Scott stopped and waited for Barrett. “Did you know this mountain is sacred to fourteen tribes?”

I even know why. Barrett stepped around Scott and kept walking.

Past sixty and overweight, Barrett’s main exercise consisted of riding his champion quarter horses on his ranch. His monthly hiking meetings with Scott stretched his patience as well as his stamina.

Scott followed closely on Barrett’s heels. “You read the last report, right?”

The trail rounded a curve and Barrett saw what he was looking for, a sheer drop on the side away from the cliff. A boulder field bottomed out on jagged lava rock 100 feet down.

Barrett struggled to get his air. Flagstaff sat 7,000 feet above sea level, so they must be at a good 10,000 feet on this mountain. That left little oxygen. He hated the sweat dripping down his jowls and couldn’t wait to get back, to shower and wash the slick film covering his body.

Scott’s breath sounded soft as a sigh. “We need to go public with this information right away.”

Barrett saved his limited air.

“I know something this big will impact McCreary Energy.”

Impact it? You cretin, it would destroy it.

Scott fidgeted in the silence, as if unsure what to do next.

Barrett leaned against the cliff wall.

Scott stared at him, voice incredulous. “You aren’t going to do anything about it?”

“Why yes. Your lovely wife is going to make snow on Kachina Mountain.”

Scott shook his head. “But—with these results—that’s not okay.”

Barrett pushed away from the cliff wall and took a step forward. He spoke quietly. “Making snow is good for business. Making snow will eliminate our little problem. Everyone is happy.”

Scott looked wounded and stumbled back a step. “I thought … ”

Barrett narrowed his eyes. “What evidence do you have about this?”

Scott gazed toward the meadow, hundreds of feet below them. “I submitted the well logs to you. You wouldn’t hide this, would you?”

“Did you make copies?”

A spark of panic lit Scott’s eyes. “You can’t cover this up.” As Barrett suspected, Scott was too much of a dolt to keep copies.

Barrett took another step toward Scott. “The problem is being taken care of.”

The nervous man glanced down the trail, no doubt searching for escape. Barrett guessed Scott was now regretting trusting Barrett and not making copies. “Pumping water on the peaks is no solution,” he said.

Barrett sighed. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but the moron left him no choice. He might be old and out of shape, but his extra weight wouldn’t hinder him now. Without another word, Barrett lurched toward Scott and slammed into the fool, launching him over the edge.

The granola cruncher had been paid well to keep his mouth shut and until now hadn’t had any temptation to open his trap and spoil his good deal. The only person who might know about this was his wife, but if she spoke up, the whole snow-making deal would be off. He’d keep an eye on her, but she struck Barrett as too smart to let that happen.

Barrett glanced over the side of the cliff.

Not much blood, but the angle of the neck proved just how dangerous it was to cross Barrett McCreary III.