When prominent Jackson Hole attorneys Mary MacIntosh and Andrew Harrison realize that their legal secretary is missing, they embark on a frantic white water search down the torrents of the Snake River. Mac and Harry find themselves in a secret Popo Agie cave snagging clues that Lela left behind, while trying to outrun a drug dealer who isn’t afraid to shoot to kill. What Mac and Harry discover on their perilous journey is an unimaginable web of conspiracy and betrayal shocking enough to rip apart long-time family ties in what was once a close-knit community.
Barnes & Noble.com
Maureen Meehan Aplin
I awoke slowly Saturday morning, sluggish and exhausted from the O’Connor trial. It was my first shot at being a big-time lawyer in a small town, and the experience kicked my butt. My name is Mary MacIntosh and I’m a trial attorney, as you’ve probably gathered, working for Harry Harrrison – a well-known big shot lawyer in the small town of Jackson, Wyoming, near Yellowstone National Park and the Grand Tetons. It wouldn’t be such a bad job if Harry would give me more responsibility. I’ve been working for him for seven years and all I do, it seems, is the boring stuff that Harry doesn’t want to do. I’m told that I’m an attractive woman – tall, lean and physically fit – but I rarely see the light of day, or go on a date for that matter, because I’m always at Harry’s beck and call. I don’t mean to complain. I love my job overall, but I need more in life.
I crawled out of bed, opened the door to my apartment and stared at the headline at my feet. “Killer is Still on the Loose.”
I read the rest of the article in bed, scanning to see if my name was mentioned as one of the lawyers on the case. Tucked into the third column of the second page I found, “Neither Harry Harrison nor Mary MacIntosh could be reached for comment.” I called Harry to see if he’d read the paper yet.
“I’m reading the article now,” Harry said. “I still can’t believe it.” There was a pause on the other end of the line and Mac could hear newspapers rustling. “Nevermind.”
“Nevermind what?” I asked.
“I don’t want to think about the O’Connor case anymore. I have an excruciating headache. You should have joined our ‘Thank God the O’Connor Trial is Over’ celebration last night. I cracked the Château Léoville Las Cases St. Julien. It scored a perfect 100 from Wine Spectator. Deliciously bold. You would have appreciated it. Anyhow, changing the subject again, did you hear from Lela last night?”
“She didn’t show up. I’m a little worried, Mac. I tried calling her, but there’s no answer. She was supposed to come over to our house for a celebration drink after the verdict.”
“When I saw her at the office after the trial, she said that she was heading over to your house after she stopped by her place to change clothes. Maybe something came up. It was a Friday night, after all, and knowing Lela, she had a hot date lined up. Partying with her boss might not have been high on her list, Harry. No offense.”
Lela, our legal secretary, almost always had a Friday night date. Young, single and a Shoshone Indian beauty, she had no problem filling her social calendar.
“But she would have called me if she couldn’t make it,” Harry said. “She might have had other plans, Mac, but she would have at least stopped by for a drink and if she couldn’t, she would’ve called. She always calls if there’s a problem. I couldn’t sleep past four this morning worrying about her. Call me if you hear from her.”
“She already has one father.”
“Lately, I think she needs two.”