Into the Wild by Beth Ciotta Read Free Book Online

adjusted his Bluetooth headset while passing a slow-ass car in order to keep the tour bus in sight. He’d been following at a discreet distance for the last hour. “I promised Kylie I’d look out for this woman.”
    â€œYeah, but Baños? Are you sure about this, Spense?”
    He quirked a mirthless smile. “Maybe it’s time to face my demons.”
    â€œMaybe I should fly up and help.”
    â€œHell, no.”
    â€œIf I didn’t know your history, I’d be insulted.” Aftera thoughtful pause, Gordo added, “What if I promise not to catch the fever?”
    Spenser flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. Just talking about this made him uneasy. “You’re a treasure hunter, Gordo. Of course you’ll catch the fever.”
    â€œNot if we don’t go into the Llanganatis.”
    The name taunted him, called to him. Instead of glancing at the formidable mountain range to his left, Spenser stared straight ahead at an exhaust-belching bus. “Did you dig up any more info on River?”
    â€œIf you don’t want me to join you, just say so.”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œRight.” Gordo blew out a breath. “Let me just say it’s hard to dig up dirt on a squeaky-clean person who leads a low-profile life. These days most people belong to some social network—MySpace, Facebook, Bebo, Twitter, LiveJournal. Not River Kane. Aside from the website for Forever Photography, she has zilch Internet presence.”
    Spenser had discovered the same thing last night when he’d used a computer at an Internet café. “Kylie said she’s a private person.”
    â€œMaybe she’s one of those technophobes.”
    â€œDon’t think so. Last night in the taxi, she checked text messages on her cell and thumbed coordinates into a Garmin Colorado.”
    Gordo whistled. “That’s a pretty advanced GPS unit.”
    â€œMmm.” Spenser signaled to make a turn when the tour bus veered off the main highway and headed for theentrance of the Cotopaxi Volcano National Park. Miles back it had stopped at the Pasochoa Volcano reserve—another tourist hotspot. He wondered if River would disembark to stretch her legs and take a few pictures as she had before. He hoped so. He felt better seeing her, knowing she was safe and managing the altitude. Although she still looked weary and pale, at least she didn’t look like she was going to faint.
    Just like before, Spenser parked a safe distance away and watched several tourists stream off the bus, including—thank you, Jesus—River. After nodding to the man who handed her down, she veered off and squirted liquid sanitizer into her palms.
    â€œSo she’s not a technophobe,” Gordo said.
    â€œNo, but she might be a germaphobe.” Between last night and today, Spenser had watched her apply that hand sanitizer at least a dozen times. “She’s obsessive about washing her hands. Every time she touches something or someone.”
    â€œMaybe she’s worried about catching a tropical disease. You said she’d never been to South America. Who knows what misconceptions she has about yellow fever and malaria?”
    â€œI’m sure she did her homework.” She’d made a point of letting him know she’d researched and prepped for this trip even though it had been spontaneous.
    â€œSpeaking of homework, since I couldn’t find much on the Internet, I e-mailed a friend, a P.I. who has some shifty ways of obtaining background information.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œI’ve been waiting to hear back and, lucky you,” Gordo said, sounding distracted, “I just got an e-mail.”
    â€œWhat’s it say?”
    â€œHold on. I’m reading.”
    Spenser massaged the back of his neck and watched as River photographed the distant slopes of the Cotopaxi Volcano. She was so intent on her subject, she didn’t notice various men