She squeezed the wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Lets just say…this one hits close to home for me. I want to help any way I can."

There was a note of relief in Newburys voice. "Thats the best news Ive heard all day. How soon can you get started?"

"As soon as you point me in the right direction."

"Agent Callaway is out where the second victim was found. Youd better start there. Ill text you the address."

As Harley hung up the phone, she thought about the pictures of those two young women. Was Kellys body out there in a mine somewhere, too, just waiting to be discovered?

CHAPTER SIX

Harley stared up at the rocky canyon, inwardly cursing Newbury for not warning her about what she was getting into.

Newbury's "directions" had turned out to be a set of GPS coordinates that led Harley down several dirt paths deep into the New Mexico backcountry until she came to an old pickup parked at the base of a canyon. If the pickup couldn't make it any farther, her rental a once-shiny Toyota Corolla, now covered in a patina of dust didn't stand a chance.

Harley enjoyed hiking (she had gone often enough as a kid), but she was still wearing the same clothes she'd worn to the meeting with Newbury: kitten heels, pencil skirt, and button-up shirt. Not exactly the ideal outfit for canyon climbing.

With a frustrated sigh, Harley began following a narrow trail that switch-backed up the canyon. The air was hot and still, the ground bony, and everything faint with the scent of juniper and mesquite.

She climbed for nearly twenty minutes, sweat streaking down her face and dust clinging to her hair. The sun scorched the back of her neck, drawing a trickle of blood where a cactus spine had caught her unawares.

What am I doing? she asked herself. Am I crazy?

She could turn back. She hadn't promised Newbury anything. If she wanted to, she could walk out of the canyon and back to civilization. And yet...the memory of those two girls, bound and left to die, was too much for her to ignore.

As she reached the top of the canyon, she suddenly became aware she had lost the trail. She looked around, bewildered.

"Someone took a wrong turn," a voice with a thick Southern accent said. Harley watched as a tall man emerged from between a pair of barbary fig cacti. He wore a checkered shirt tucked smartly into his jeans. The heat didn't even seem to affect him, though it had to be well over one hundred degrees.

"You must be Agent Callaway," Harley said, tucking a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear.

The man studied her. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but his lips were pressed in a thin, unfriendly line.

"Who's asking?" he said.

"Special Agent Newbury sent me to assist you with the case."