More laughter.
By the time the lead ranger had finished checking their IDs and frisking them, the other rangers were done tossing their tents. Sleeping bags, clothes, and packaged food lay scattered on the ground, but, as Mitch had expected, they’d found no drugs. They also hadn’t found Gridwall, who’d taken to climbing and living in national parks to avoid the San Diego draft board.
Then one of them pointed toward Megs’ tent. “Anyone search that one yet?”
A ranger walked over to her tent, jerked down the zipper. “We told you to come out… Oh. I’m sorry, miss. I thought you were one of them.”
Mitch turned to the ranger who’d just patted him down. “She’s not with us.”
The ranger in charge passed on that information. “They say she’s not with them.”
Megs crawled out of her tent wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair drawn back in a ponytail. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“I need to see your ID, miss.”
Megs handed it to him, along with some documents.
The ranger studied both. “Come with me, please, miss.”
Megs hesitated for a moment, her gaze seeking Mitch’s as she walked by, worry in her eyes.
Something in Mitch snapped. “Wait! What did she do? Are you arresting her?”
“Stay where you are!” the ranger barked back. “Stanley, search her tent just to be thorough.”
“What the—” Mitch took a step, about to follow her, but found himself restrained by a palm to the sternum.
“Hold on, Romeo. No one is going to mistreat her.”
Megs climbed into the front seat of the ranger’s vehicle, not the back. She and the ranger seemed to be having a conversation. It went on for ten or fifteen minutes before she climbed out, papers in hand.
“What was that about?” Accardo asked.
“No idea.”
The lead ranger gave them a speech about following park rules and the evils of illicit drugs. Then the rangers climbed into their vehicles and drove away, leaving them to clean up the mess.
“Hey, why did they want to talk to you?” Yoder asked Megs.
She shrugged as if she had no idea.
Mitch didn’t buy that. He fell in beside her, walked with her. “Are you okay?”
Her gaze met his, and she nodded, clearly relieved. “What were they doing here?”
“Looking for illegal drugs and draft dodgers.”
“What are those papers?” Cook called to her.
She waved them. “My parole papers.”
“You’re on parole?” Accardo was apparently stupid enough to believe what was obviously a lie. “What did you do?”
“I killed some guy because he hit on me.”
Mitch found himself biting back a grin.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why had the ranger wanted to speak with her privately? And what were those papers?
