Treasure Hunt

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The day he found the body, Mickey Dade woke up under a tree on Mount Tamalpais.

Sleeping outside a few nights a week had been going on as a regular thing with him for about four months now. He always kept a sleeping bag in his used Camaro’s trunk anyway, and starting around mid-May, when the weather got nice everywhere but in San Francisco proper, he’d finish work and leave town in whatever direction struck his fancy.

Even in the urbanized, overcrowded Bay Area, there were innumerable places a guy could simply pull over, park, and crash on the ground under cover of trees or bushes or in the hollow of a sand dune in one of the city or county or even national parks, at the beaches, off back roads, even in the quiet “neighborhood watch” suburbs.

Monday the past week, while it was still light out he’d driven down to Woodside, an exclusive semirural enclave nestled into the foothills behind Palo Alto, and slept out under an old stone bridge over a dry creek bed. Two days later, he’d parked a couple hundred feet down an unnamed, little-used dirt track cut into the woods behind Burlingame around Crystal Springs Reservoir. Last night, he’d gone north into Marin County, got halfway up Mount Tamalpais, and pulled under an old low-hanging scrub oak in a forgotten and unpaved parking lot.

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