Free Alex Benedict 07 - Coming Home by Jack McDevitt

getting ready to cross the highway. “No,” he said, “Kolchevsky had a reason for going up the slope.”
    “Was he married?” I asked.
    “His wife died twenty years ago.”
    “Maybe,” I said, “he was going to meet a girlfriend.”
    *   *   *
     
    Barrow was by no means the highest mountain in the area, but I could see why it would have been popular with climbers: It was about fifteen hundred meters above the surrounding country, providing a magnificent view of Lake Accord, which is really a small ocean, stretching almost 140 kilometers to the west.
    It’s wide-open country, with only a few houses scattered in remote places. I’ve always thought that, when the time came, this was the sort of area I’d want to retire into.
    We finished eating, left Bartlett’s, and got our backpacks out of the skimmer. We crossed Route 11 and started up the hiking trail. About two kilometers in, it split in two. One track turned northwest into the heart of the mountain range. The other, the one on which Kolchevsky had been found, plunged into ever denser forest and headed for the summit. We stayed with it.
    It grew steeper, until we were moving carefully, placing one foot in front of the other and sometimes using branches to pull ourselves uphill. And finally Alex pointed off to the right side at a cluster of trees and bushes. “This is it,” he said.
    It was easy to visualize. Whether Kolchevsky was going up or coming down, this would have been a difficult patch of ground to navigate. He had apparently staggered off into the shrubbery and collapsed.
    We stood quietly for several minutes. Finally, Alex shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s go up the trail for a bit.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “What was he doing up here?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Right.”
    *   *   *
     
    As we got higher, the slope eased off somewhat, the trees thinned, and the trail moved out along a cliff overlooking the lake. A group of rocks formed a cradle embedded at the rim. It was a place where you could sit down and enjoy a sandwich with a view. In fact, several people were there when we arrived.
    Clouds had begun building while we were on the trail. And now a soft rain began to fall. The people on the cradle—there were five of them—looked up. They gathered their gear and, as we watched, moved out and started down the trail. They said hello as they passed. We stayed in the shelter of the trees.
    When it slacked off, we followed the trail the rest of the way to the top. Somebody had planted a WCC flag on the summit. The World Conservation Corps. I’m sure you’ve seen one, but in case you haven’t: It portrays a gomper with big round eyes sitting beneath a rosebush, and their axiom, SAVE THE PLANET . The WCC, of course, is actually a Confederacy-wide organization that tries to remind people about maintaining the environment.
    There was nothing else at the summit.
    Alex stared out at the lake far below. “Why did he come up here? Why didn’t he at least bring someone else along?”
    *   *   *
     
    Carensa Paterna asked the same question next day on
Jennifer in the Morning
.
“I’m not denying,”
she said,
“that Casmir had a rough edge. He said what he thought. That hurts sometimes. But think how much better the world would be if we all behaved that way.”
    Jennifer looked skeptical.
“Are you sure about that?”
    Carensa smiled.
“Well, yeah, I know what you’re saying. But we claim to be all about truth, don’t we? I’d like to be able to believe that when people say nice things, they mean it. Rather than that they have some ulterior motive. That they’re trying to get something. Or they’re just sparing my feelings. And that’s my point about Casmir: You could trust him. He meant what he said. I’ll confess I loved the guy. There were times he hurt my feelings. But I’m really going to miss him, Jen. I hate to think of what his final hours must have been like. Wandering around on