Mountain Rampage by Scott Graham Page B

waiting to spot the heavy-horned rams sure to trot over the ridge to unite with the herd at any moment.
    The sheep continued to graze their way across the northslope of the mountain. By the time Chuck finished his sandwich, the sheep were well clear of the ridge—and not a single adult ram had topped the rocky crest to join them.

N INE
    Chuck’s phone pinged several times to announce incoming texts when the van reentered service range on the way back to the resort. Throughout the van, phones dinged and chimed, prompting the students to stop talking to one another and set their thumbs to work.
    Chuck pulled the van to a stop at Raven House fifteen minutes later. The students grouped at the rear door to retrieve their packs, then stood with their packs in hand, waiting for Chuck to address them.
    Chuck slipped between the students to the rear of the van, grabbed his pack, and backed away a few steps. What was there to say?
    His eyes roamed from old, rundown Raven House with its warped, clapboard exterior to new, stucco Falcon House capped by its shiny, green metal roof. Between the two buildings, amid tufts of buffalo grass, he spotted the shallow divot dug by the police the night before to gather the blood that had soaked into the ground.
    Someone knew something about Clarence’s knife and the human blood, and that someone was either one of the students standing before him, or one of the Falcon House employees.
    Who might it be? He hadn’t a clue.
    He glanced across the fields toward the cabin. Janelle’s glare as he’d left this morning had made clear the risk he’d taken in heading to the mine with the students so soon after Rosie’s seizure. He assumed Rosie hadn’t suffered a relapse today because he’d gotten no voicemails or texts from Janelle—though the absence of any of her usual, chatty messages was a bad enough sign by itself.
    When they realized Chuck had nothing to say, the students turned and headed up the walk to Raven House. Chuck slunghis pack over his shoulder and motioned Clarence and Kirina to his side.
    â€œStick close to the dorm,” he told them. “I want to know who’s talking to who, whether anybody’s acting shady.”
    A corner of Kirina’s mouth drew up. “ Acting shady ?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can tell you one thing. Whatever this is, no one from Team Nugget is involved. My girls aren’t thieves, and they’re not knife-wielding maniacs either.”
    Clarence declared, “My guys aren’t involved either. I’m sure of it.”
    Breaking the students into two work teams had been Clarence’s idea. Chuck had expected problems when the students had self-selected their teams along gender lines. To his surprise, however, the members of the two teams had gotten along well with each other at the mine and during their off hours throughout the summer.
    â€œNobody’s accusing anybody of anything at this point,” Chuck said. “Just keep your eyes open, okay? Both of you.”
    He hurried across the fields, past the lodge and conference center, and up the curving drive through the woods to the cabin. He owed Professor Sartore a call, but Rosie took priority—as did squaring things with Janelle.
    He released his bottled-up breath when he saw the pickup still parked where he’d left it upon returning from the hospital the night before. But a vehicle he didn’t recognize—a rugged SUV with a Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation sticker on its bumper and a mountain bike attached to a rack on its roof—was parked next to the truck. Janelle opened the cabin’s front screen door as Chuck approached, allowing Gregory, the young doctor from the emergency room, to step onto the wooden deck ahead of her.
    Gregory hailed Chuck from the uncovered porch with awave and a wide smile. “Yo, dude.”
    Chuck stopped at the bottom of the short flight of stairs leading to