Free High Country- Pigeon 12 by Nevada Barr Page A

six-packs.
     
    "Thinking the party's over, the three of us turned in," said the first speaker. "Then Slob and the boy-faced prick come back, park that big damn gas-guzzling piece of shit in front of the tent like we were in a Wal-Mart parking lot, and the party starts up again."
     
    "You can't park your vehicle in a campground. The rangers should've done something."
     
    This time Anna didn't bother to ask if they'd reported it. These three had joined that majority who believe an all-seeing, all-powerful government owed them safety, comfort and a living whether they lifted a finger to help themselves or not.
     
    A couple more nudges and she discovered they didn't know where the men had gone on their moonlight hiking and camping adventure. She stayed long enough to finish her coffee, then left with what she'd come for: none of the squatters could have been in on the search of the room and the assault on Nicky. She'd also gotten a bonus: the truck tracks she'd wanted to trace belonged to a red Ford Excursion. Instead of doubling back, Anna continued on past the tiny cluster of tent cabins at the east end of the campground.
     
    Billy, or the boy-faced prick, was home, that or a black bear was napping on somebody's cot. Wet growling snores came through the tent's sides with such gale force Anna was surprised the canvas walls didn't puff out and in the way they did in cartoons.
     
    Fairly confident that the owners of the Excursion were either gone or comatose, she headed back through the grounds of Camp 4 toward the parking lot that girded its western side. Campers had begun emerging from their brightly colored cocoons. There was an edge of excitement that she wouldn't have expected on a cold and hungover morning at the bedraggled tail end of the climbing season. Nights got below freezing and, with the previous night's drizzle, Anna would have thought the rock faces too icy to climb before ten o'clock.
     
    The bustle and low-grade buzz kept company with her through the camp. Groups of guys were dragging out packs and boots. Climbers were mostly obsessed by the climb. Many never set foot more than a mile into the park, at least not horizontally.
     
    Anna guessed the unusual combination of ice on the granite walls and dry conditions in the high country had inspired them to try their hand at winter camping. But for the single snowfall that had effectively sabotaged the search effort, there'd been no precipitation to speak of. Even at eighty-five hundred feet there was only a foot or so of frozen crusty snow. If the pattern didn't break, Yosemite was going to have one hell of a fire season come summer.
     
    The coffee she'd cadged from various generous parties was completing its morning rounds, and she stopped at the camp's restroom.
     
    Above her chosen commode near the outer wall was a small high ventilation window. Through this came the desultory morning conversation of a group camped just outside.
     
    "What a bash."
     
    "That fat guy was off his head."
     
    Anna's ears pricked at that with such interest, had she been a terrier, the tips would have been quivering. She climbed on the commode seat to get her ears nearer the window, and began to eavesdrop.
     
    "You think it's like he said?"
     
    "Shit, even if you figure sixty percent was just hot air, it's worth going after."
     
    "He swore he'd been there."
     
    "Lot of people there last night. It's going to be a fucking gold rush."
     
    "The guy'd been somewhere. Did you see the dude's feet? Hamburger."
     
    "Yeah but I'm not dragging my butt all over hell and gone in the snow trying to figure out where."
     
    "He said a low lake. How many can there be?"
     
    "A shitload."
     
    "That's what I want. A load of shit."
     
    This scatological sally was met with much laughter. The voices trailed off as the climbers walked away from their site. Anna sat back down for some serious thinking.
     
    Deep thought having availed her nothing, she zipped her trousers and rejoined the