of the desert mountain. She saw nesting holes bored into a saguaro cactus by a gila woodpecker and daydreamed about life as a bird. Free and mobile. It seemed a peaceful existence compared to the complexities of human relationships.
She looked back down the steep trail toward the trailhead, now a tiny spot in the distance, and out over the city. She saw someone moving up the path toward her with a familiar gait. She held the binoculars to her eyes and watched Matt Albright making the steep climb. He wasn’t doing too badly, considering how unprepared he was for the hike. He didn’t wear a hat, which is the very first hiking rule, and didn’t carry water, as far as Gretchen could see. Obviously, a beginner. Or perhaps he hadn’t anticipated climbing a mountain today. Had he been watching her all along? Following her from home?
Matt looked up in her direction, and she reluctantly waved, wishing instead to slide down and flatten into the rocks. He hadn’t exactly been the bearer of good news lately. Matt lifted a hand as a shield from the sun and waved in return. She watched him pick his way through the rocks.
“You obviously never joined the Boy Scouts,” she said, when he stopped before her, breathing hard. Lines of perspiration ran down both sides of his face, but he managed one of his dazzling smiles. He could make a living as a tooth model.
“Their motto is Be prepared,” she continued, handing him her water bottle. “You’re a classic dehydration victim and potential buzzard food.” She watched him tip the bottle back and take a long drink.
“The fire department needs the extra business,” he managed to say. “They’d be happy to come up and get me.” He sat down on a boulder. “I should have trained for this assignment. Keeping up with you isn’t easy. A triathlon would be less work.”
“I see you’re a walking advertisement for social issues,” she said, pointing at his T-shirt, reading the inscription Follow Your Own Path—Leave Only Footprints. She remembered the Indian Youth Fund T-shirt he wore a few days ago. “A cop with a social conscience.”
“You make it sound like we aren’t human. Maybe I can prove you wrong.”
“My cousin, Blaze, is a sheriff in a little town in the Michigan Upper Peninsula. He kind of gives the profession a bad name, He’s Neanderthalish and loudly self-righteous. I’m going to the top. If you want to make sure I don’t commit a crime against Phoenix, like littering on one of your premier tourist attractions, you’d better go up with me.”
Matt stood and gestured up the mountain. “After you.”
Gretchen hiked fast, determined to make it to the summit as quickly as possible and start the descent before the sun crested over Camelback. “I was hoping to see a gila woodpecker,” she called back, noting that the gap between them had widened. “I’ve seen the holes in the cacti, but I’ve never seen the bird.”
“They have zebra-striped backs,” he called up to her in short, choppy words. A period punctuated every word, each a sentence of its own. “I didn’t know you were a birder.”
“I’ve never considered myself one. I just like to look. It’s an excuse to be outdoors.” She stopped and waited for him to catch up.
“There are eighteen species of hummingbirds in Arizona,” he said, looking miserable, his smile subdued and strained. “Arizona is a bird haven in the winter.”
“Why are you following me?” Gretchen asked. “You aren’t a hiker, at least not at this skill level. You could have waited at the base for me.”
“I could, but I like the challenge.” He lifted his shirt to wipe his face with the edge of the cloth, and Gretchen glimpsed a well-toned midsection. Too much weight lifting and not enough aerobic conditioning, she thought.
“Sapsuckers, whiskered owls, quail, Arizona has it all,” he said. “In answer to your question, your Aunt Nina mentioned that you like to hike. When you weren’t home, I thought I might find you here.”
“On the way down you can tell me why you’re visiting so early in the morning. Come on, let’s go.”
He smiled with relief. “You’ve made my day. I thought I’d have to finish the climb to get your attention. I’ll buy you breakfast to show my gratitude.”
The Waffle House was crowded, but the waitstaff knew Matt and found them a table almost immediately. Gretchen, her early morning healthful dieting resolution temporarily forgotten, dove into an enormous platter of pecan waffles.
“Nina says