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Ghost Canyon Mine.

Harlan stood there a moment, frozen by surprise, then he scooped up the TV remote and pushed the volume up further. He listened to the newscaster recapping the previous afternoon’s events. There had been an accident and people had died. The LVMPF press liaison was authorized only to say that it was an animal attack. Another source, speaking on condition of anonymity, added that the offending creature appeared to live in the mine, and that the survivors all mentioned glowing red eyes.

Harlan stood staring at the screen, transfixed.

Because the news story ignited a memory. Something he hadn’t thought about for many years. An old family legend.

He put his drink down on the counter and took out his cell phone. He needed more information, and quickly.

Luckily, Rossi was not the only one with friends in high places. Harlan might not have the DA or a district judge on his payroll, but there were people in town who owed him—like that stupid cop who got in over his head on the craps tables a few years back. He was a sergeant now. The five grand Harlan had written off back then, on the hunch that a grateful Vegas police officer was worth more than turning a quick profit, might just pay off. Harlan smiled. Then he muted the TV, searched his phone’s contacts, and placed a call.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The campsite was even worse than Tiffany had feared. It was nothing but a moderately flat patch of brown earth surrounded by sagebrush, nestled on a plateau beneath towering rock formations of limestone and dolomite. The ride up had been smooth enough until Darwin left the highway behind and took to the wilderness back trails to a spot he’d camped at the year before with friends. And judging by the remains of several fire pits, he wasn’t the only one who decided this spot was a great place to bed down.

They pitched the tent, which Darwin assured her was big enough for two people but looked like a tight squeeze to Tiffany. After that, hot and sweating, they sat in the Jeep for a while with the air running and ate a light meal of turkey sandwiches from one of the twin coolers containing their provisions. They washed it down with bottles of water and then got back to work. It would be sundown soon, and Darwin wanted to light a fire.

He dug a shallow hole and gathered stones into a circle around it, then retrieved a fire log from the back of the Jeep. He’d learned from a previous trip that this was easier than trying to gather firewood, especially in the arid desert.

Tiffany sat on a rock a few feet away and watched him work. The temperature was dropping already from a high of seventy degrees. The forecast predicted it would drop as low as fifty-five overnight, and Tiffany was glad that she had packed several sweaters, not to mention her thickest flannel PJs, which might disappoint Darwin but would keep her toasty.

After a few minutes, he got a roaring fire going and warmed his hands over the flames. That done, he got a blanket from the Jeep, which he spread over the ground.

“Want to join me?” He asked, flopping down.

“Sure.” Tiffany pushed herself up from the rock and joined him on the blanket, huddling close against the mounting breeze, which made the temperature feel a good five degrees colder than it actually was.

“We should have brought marshmallows,” Tiffany said, enjoying the fire’s warmth and watching the flames leap and dance. “We could’ve made s’mores.”

“Your wish is my command,” Darwin said, jumping up. He returned to the Jeep and fumbled around in one of the coolers, then came back with a Hershey’s family sized bar, a box of graham crackers, and a bag of white fluffy marshmallows. He held a pair of metal skewers in his other hand, one of which he offered to her. “Wouldn’t be a camping trip without s’mores.”

Tiffany grinned. “Did you pack a guitar too, so that we can have a sing-along?”

“Dang it,” Darwin said, laughing. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

“That’s it, then. Might as well pack up and head home.” Tiffany tore open the marshmallows and pushed one on to her skewer. “I only came out here for the campfire songs.”

“Trust me, if I brought a guitar out here and tried to play it, you would beg to go back. I took lessons in high school. It was not pretty. Talk about all thumbs.”

“Sounds like my singing.” Tiffany held the marshmallow near the fire and watched it brown. “I actually got kicked out of choir in tenth grade. It was so embarrassing.”

“Really?” Darwin chuckled. “Wish I was there to see that.”

“How about I serenade you right now, then?” Tiffany grinned. “That will guarantee you don’t bring me camping again.”

“I’m sure you sing like an angel,” Darwin replied.

“Good answer.” Tiffany nodded. “Continue like that and I might keep you warm in the tent tonight.”

“Looking forward to it already.” Darwin plucked a graham cracker from the box and broke it in half, piling it with chocolate and toasted marshmallow. He popped the creation into his mouth and chewed, then took a second marshmallow and skewered it.

Tiffany ate her own s’mores and watched the sun drop below the mountains, the sky turning a fiery shade of red before fading to deep blue and finally black as night crept across the landscape. A million stars looked down upon them, bright points of light splashed across the heavens, a twinkling river in a never-ending cosmos. She looked up in awe, surprised by the intensity of the night sky.

Darwin, sensing her wonder, took her hand in his. “Everything is so much more vibrant out here at night,” he said. “There’s no light pollution from the city to get in the way.”

“It’s incredible,” Tiffany whispered. “I’ve never really paid much attention to it before. I can see why you like to camp out here.”

“If you look long enough, you’ll see a

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