It was strange, he thought.

Over the years people had disappeared in these red-rock canyons of southern Utah on a more or less regular basis.

But none of them had caught the nation’s attention like Everett Ruess, the seemingly enchanted artist and writer who after all these years had not faded from the public’s interest.

The mystery of the young vanished wanderer seemed never to go away.

He watched them disembark from the limousine into the September heat of late afternoon.

At this moment, the sheriff was tired, hot, and angry that the County Commission had not given him permission to have the air conditioning repaired.

Jared Buck was lean and sinewy with a craggy face set off by a slightly crooked nose.

On his office walls, along with the official state and county certificates, hung photographs of nearby mountain scenes and of the deep canyons and colorful cliffs of the area where he liked to roam in his free time.

Angus Terry was a short, bearded, balding man who had shown up from Kansas a dozen years earlier and was slowly melding into the southern Utah landscape.

With a resigned nod, Jared rose, stretched, and gave a weary shake of his head.