St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

plenty of time to enjoy the scenery around camp.
    The problem with being a tall sixteen was that a lot of the womenwho looked really hot to him thought he was too young, and girls his age wanted older men.
    Sometimes life just basically sucked.
    But the view was great.
    Jill turned and started back down the steep, ragged trail that had been worn dusty by river guides coming to check out one of the most dangerous rapids on a river famous for its risk. The Colorado claimed some lives each year, mostly the drunk or careless, but sometimes the dead were simply unlucky.
    When Jill and Lane walked back down to the waiting rafts, Joe Faroe cocked an eyebrow at his son. “Are we walking or riding?”
    “You can always walk around,” Jill said before Lane answered. “The trail’s about four miles. We’ll wait for you downstream.”
    “I’m riding,” Lane said to his dad. “I’m just wondering if a girl has enough strength to handle that water.”
    Faroe shook his head. Lane had an excellent brain, but he still had some things to learn about women. Jill had hiked the teenager into the ground at least twice on this trip, but he always came back with the guy-girl needle. He hadn’t noticed how the other guides—female and male—deferred to Jill’s judgment and skill.
    “If it will make you feel better,” Jill said innocently, “I’ll let your daddy row. He’s good and strong.”
    “No thanks,” Faroe said. “I’ll leave Lava Falls to the experts.”
    Lane grumbled. “Why him? You only let me row when the river is flat and the wind is against us.”
    Jill winked at Faroe. “What I lack in strength I make up for in smarts.”
    Faroe laughed and gave his son a one-armed hug. “She’s got you there. She knows more about leverage than an unarmed combat teacher. And that’s what running the river is about, leverage and smarts.”
    Combat, too, of a sort. But not the sort Faroe was used to. Onthe river he was happy to have someone else looking out for danger. That’s what a vacation was all about—not having to figure out how to kill someone before he killed you.
    “Huh,” Lane said, but smiled at Jill. “You ever dump in Lava Falls?”
    “Twice,” she said, fingering the leather cord around her neck. It held a serrated folding knife with a hook on the tip. If she went over and got caught on something below the water, the blade was sharp enough to cut through the tough woven nylon flotation harness with a single stroke. She’d never had to use the knife. She hoped she never would. “You don’t fight the water, you just float with it. That’s why everyone wears the harness you’re always complaining about.”
    “It’s too narrow across the shoulders.”
    “Your dad’s is worse, but you don’t hear him complaining.”
    Faroe smiled. The float harness was more comfortable than body armor, but he wasn’t going to point that out.
    “Mom would have enjoyed this,” Lane said, watching the river with eyes that were just like his father’s.
    “Not nearly nine months pregnant, she wouldn’t,” Faroe said dryly. “She was real clear on that. Wanted us to do the male bonding thing while she did the female gestating thing.”
    “Hope she waits to have it until we get home.”
    “She’s not due for almost a month.”
    “She’s huge.”
    “Don’t tell her that,” Faroe said.
    They were the last raft in their party to take on Lava Falls. While the other rafts entered the current with whoops and shouts, Lane and Faroe followed Jill to their own small craft. They sat on the inflated gunwale and swished their feet in the water, making sure their gritty sandals were well rinsed before swinging their legs aboard. Then both passengers went to work on the straps securing their individual float harness.
    “Ready?” Jill asked.
    They answered with a thumbs-up.
    Lane had the front of the raft, Faroe the back. Jill sat on the hard rowing bench in the center, facing forward, oars poised above the water. The rapids ahead was clearing of other rafters. She watched the river intently, correcting the angle of the raft as she entered the current. The approach to Lava Falls was crucial.
    Do it right and get an adrenaline ride.
    Do it wrong and suck rocks.
    The current picked up, shoving the raft off to one side. She dipped her left oar and stroked once, correcting the line. The front of the raft started to buck gently as it picked up the first of the waves. She glanced quickly at her passengers, giving a