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Show 134. his head. "I don't know," he said. "It's a helluva mystery. I don't have any answers." Finally he set the camera back on the table. "Are you kids going to let me photograph this and run an article?" "Oh, yes," Stephanie smiled broadly, "we hoped you would. If some way or other JD read it - " She didn't have to say more. Tom nodded. "Could we develop my film and see if the burned ground shows up well enough to make a good print?" Chic asked. "My camera's in the car." "Sure, you betcha," Tom rubbed his hands together, "this'11 give the Times a regular shot in the arm, won't it? I'll have to run extra copies. Chic, you go get your camera while Stephanie and I set up for some pictures of this one. We'll get that film in the dark room right away." Chic grabbed Stephanie's hand and squeezed it. They grinned hard at one another. "I'll be right back," he said. "If we get a good picture of this camera, could I send a copy to Mr. Corrigan?" Stephanie asked, watching Tom Crawford as he adjusted the flood lights. "That the man who was here talking to you kids?" "Uh huh. He lives in Denver, I remember that . . . but how do you suppose I could find him?" "Go through NICAP," he said, moving the lens close to the remnant of JD's camera. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" "Sure. Send a clipping, too. This's certainly evidence of something. We can't keep it hidden here in Red Butte." "Then maybe," Stephanie brightened, talking more to herself than to him, "maybe if this becomes b_ig_ news, JD will read about it somewhere." Tom Crawford looked at Stephanie through eighty-year-old eyes, but what he saw made him feel like a kid Chic's age. She'd win out, this one. She had a lot of guts and a lot more faith than he did. |