The lukewarm water of the Paluxy River trickled over her bare feet as she tiptoed across the rocks. Her heel slipped. She threw her arms out to the sides. Her boots, which she clutched by their laces, flopped below her hands. As her balance returned, she leaped the last few feet onto the bank of the river.

Katy Gallagher dropped onto the ground and swiped her hand across her forehead. Sweat seeped from beneath the sweatband of her straw hat, dribbling down her forehead into her eyes and drooling down her chest. The air pressed against her like a wet blanket. The sun, though sinking below the tree line, boiled the atmosphere.

While she waited for her feet to air-dry, she studied the little valley the Paluxy River had carved for itself over the eons. Twenty yards north, the river made a hard right, a ways after that it twisted right again, forming a U-bend that surrounded the parking lots of the state park. South of her position, past where the Opossum Branch emptied into the main river, the Paluxy widened into the Blue Hole before vanishing in the shadows of trees that overhung its banks. Even now, in the midst of a drought, the Blue Hole held as much water as a swimming pool.

Her feet dry, she yanked her socks and boots on and tied the laces. When she stood, she straightened her shorts and sleeveless shirt, the only clothes a human could wear in Texas in the summer. She was a Northerner, not an armadillo. So why had she dragged herself here?

For the truth, she reminded herself. Those three words had become her mantra this afternoon, her comfort as she slogged through briars, careened down near-vertical slopes, and battled minivans for a parking spot.

She pulled the official park map out of her pocket. The sheet was wrinkled and damp from the humidity. Since she had gotten the map from the park office at the main entrance, she had no hope it would point her to her quarry. No, the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department had no interest in the truth.

Thanks to Jim van Owen, she had a general idea of where the quarry might be. Jim had found a site on the Internet that claimed the quarry lay on the north bank across from the northwest parking lot, near the U-bend, on a ledge one yard above the river level. The website, however, had last been updated three years ago. She hoped the information was still right.

The truth tended to disappear if left alone too long.