Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) by Anthony Strong (ebooks that read to you .TXT) 📕

two men, who looked more like a weaselly accountant than a hearty outdoor type, appeared to pull himself together.

“Private land?” His face creased into a picture of innocence. “Are you sure about that? We thought this was a hiking trail.”

“Well, it’s not,” Barnes said, keeping his gun leveled. “You have no business being here.”

“Sorry, we didn’t realize. We came across this here mine opening and thought we’d take a look. We were curious.”

“You’re out hiking, huh?” Decker asked.

“Sure.” The man laughed nervously. “It’s good exercise, don’t you think?”

“We normally hike the Calico Basin Trail.” The other man, who looked a lot more suited to the outdoors than his partner, spoke for the first time. “We decided to try something different today. I guess we messed up.”

“You don’t look very well prepared for a hike,” Decker said, eying the men up. Neither wore a backpack nor carried water. They didn’t even have hats, which was fine for a short stroll, but not for prolonged exposure in the wilderness. “Where’s your gear?”

“We don’t need much,” the smaller man said. “We’re pretty experienced at this.”

“Is that so,” Barnes said, narrowing his eyes. “You have so much experience that you don’t need to hydrate?”

“Huh?” The man looked confused.

“It might be November, but it can still get up into the low eighties on a hot day. You’ll lose a good deal of moisture on a long hike if you don’t have any water on hand.”

“Right. Thanks for the advice. We’ll keep that in mind next time.” The larger of the two men laughed nervously. He glanced toward the trail leading away from the mine. “I guess we’ll be on our way now.”

His partner nodded and took a step toward the trail. “Sorry to have troubled you. We wouldn’t have hiked this way if we’d known it was private land.”

“Not so fast.” Decker raised a hand. “I don’t suppose you’d mind telling us your names.”

“What?” Now the man looked flustered. “Why?”

“Because I’m asking,” Decker replied.

“And what gives you the authority to do that?” The man replied, growing bold all of a sudden.

“That would be the FBI.” Barnes stepped forward. Holding the gun steady with one hand, he pulled out his credentials wallet with the other and held it up. “Special Agent Barnes. The man accompanying me is John Decker, on temporary assignment with the Bureau, and entrusted with the same authorization as myself.” Barnes paused and drew a breath. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind answering his question?”

“Very well,” the man didn’t look pleased. “My name’s Bob Eastwood.”

“And your friend?” Barnes asked, pointing to the larger man.

“My brother. Larry.” A sheen of sweat glinted on the forehead of the man who called himself Bob Eastwood. “We’re staying in Vegas. We drove here from Albuquerque yesterday.”

“I thought you said you hiked around Vegas all the time,” Decker said. “You even mentioned another trail.”

“You did, indeed,” Barnes added. “The Calico Basin Trail. Doesn’t seem like a pair of brothers from Albuquerque would be too familiar with the hiking trails hereabouts. That’s got to be what… a nine-hour drive?”

“What can I say, we like to gamble. We drive up at least once a month. Are we free to go now?”

“Go on, then.” Barnes lowered his weapon but didn’t holster it. “Get out of here. Make it quick before I change my mind and decide to dig deeper on the pair of you.”

“Thank you, officer.” The man calling himself Bob Eastwood wasted no time in scuttling back toward the trail with his brother in tow.

Decker watched them leave, climbing up through the canyon past the mine, until they crested a rise and dropped out of sight on the other side. He turned to Barnes. “You believe a word of what they said?”

“Not hardly. Albuquerque, my ass. They were lying. Body language was all wrong. I’ll bet they didn’t even give us their real names.”

“That’s what I thought.” Decker stepped toward the trail. “I want to see where they’re going.”

“For sure. There’s no way they hiked out here.” Barnes followed Decker, and together they made their way up the trail, following the route taken by the two strangers.

They picked their way along the trail in silence, leaving the mine behind, doing their best not to alert their quarry of the pursuit. When they reached the high point of the trail, they saw the men below them, descending toward a red pickup truck.

Decker dropped to the ground so he wouldn’t be visible if either man looked back. Barnes did the same, flattening himself against the rocky earth.

The men reached the truck. The shorter of the two glanced over his shoulder, as if he could sense Decker’s gaze, then climbed into the passenger side. His companion jumped in the driver’s side. Decker heard the engine start up. He reached into his pocket for his phone, bringing up the photo app and zooming in on the truck. As it peeled away, he took several pictures.

Soon the truck was gone, leaving behind only a cloud of dust that caught on the breeze and dissipated in twirling wisps.

Decker got to his feet and studied the photographs, finding one that showed the back of the vehicle, and the Nevada license plate it displayed. “Now we have proof. Everything they told us was bull.”

“I thought as much.” Barnes stared down at the photo on the phone’s screen. “I would very much like to find out what their real names are.”

“And what business they had up here at the mine,” Decker said.

“I’ll run the plate when we get back to town. That should give us a name for one of those clowns, because I’m pretty sure it isn’t Eastwood.”

“And I’ll bet you a hundred bucks they aren’t brothers either,” Decker added. “They don’t even look alike.”

Barnes nodded. He brushed the dust from his trousers and turned to head back toward the mine. “And when we find out who they are, we’ll pay them a visit and ask those questions again.”

“And this time, they had better tell the truth,” Decker said.

“For