Fletch
“Shoo!”
Shoo?
I hear but can’t see her. Taking a step to the edge of the cliff, where I spotted the discarded travel mug, I peer down. There she is, sitting on a narrow ledge about twenty feet down, her surprised face tilted up and those hazel eyes staring right back at me.
“You?”
“What the hell are you doing down there?”
Her lips instantly disappear into a pissed-off line.
“Contemplating the meaning of life,” she snaps back before clarifying. “I didn’t get down here voluntarily; I slipped.”
I curse under my breath. I swear the woman is a walking disaster.
“Stay put,” I bark at her before retracing my steps to the truck.
I grab the rappelling pack I keep stored in the cargo box in the truck bed and return to the ledge. It takes me five minutes to find a sturdy tree and loop my tied runner around it and double strand my rope through the anchor. Then I fasten the harness and clip the loops of rope to the carabiner attached.
If the tree and the rope can hold me, they’ll be able to hold her as I hoist her up.
“Coming down,” I yell before planting my feet on the edge and lean my body back, testing the anchor.
Easing one loop of the rope, I slowly lower myself, walking my feet down the face of the rock until I reach the ledge.
“How did you know I was here?”
I notice her face is pale and drawn, and there are tear tracks down her cheeks. Suddenly I feel a hint of remorse for barking at her again. I don’t know why this woman annoys me so much.
“I’m a tracker. It’s what I do.” I unclip the harness and step out of it. “Good thing too since you seem to have gotten yourself in a bit of a pickle.”
“The bear got me into this pickle,” she returns defensively.
“Bear? Is that what you were shooing at?” I snort. “Shouldn’t have been out here in the first place without some kind of protection.”
“I had bear spray but…” She hesitates and points to the valley below. “I’m afraid it’s down there somewhere. It slipped from my fingers.”
I step in front of her and she presses her back even farther into the rock face.
“Need to get you into this harness and then I’m gonna haul you up. When you get to the top, unclip it and send it back down.”
She shakes her head and I mistake it for fear.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you. The rope was sturdy enough to hold me, it’ll be fine for you. I’ll do all the work; all you have to do is hang there.”
“I can’t.”
I pinch my eyes closed and blow out an exasperated breath.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I think my sister is down there somewhere.”
She points at a boulder sticking out from the ledge. I take a step in that direction and immediately spot the blood. More than a drop but less than a puddle. Enough to indicate some damage.
“That blood could’ve been from anything. Maybe an eagle used that boulder as a perch to eat his prey. Why would you think that’s your sister’s?”
“Because I found this down here too.”
She holds up a satellite phone, its screen smashed to smithereens. Then she flips it around revealing the sticker of a red maple leaf on the protective case.
“I recognize it. It’s hers,” she says before I can even question it.
Fuck.
“Okay. I believe you, but if she is down there somewhere, where the hell is her motorhome? Don’t you think it’s more likely she made her way up somehow and took off? Maybe you’re right, and the blood is hers. Could be she’s confused, which is why she hasn’t shown up or called.”
It seems like a reasonable scenario to me, but it’s obvious she’s not buying it as she shakes her head.
“She’s here…”
To my alarm I see her eyes well up. Jesus. I’m not equipped for this.
“First, let’s get off this ledge,” I quickly suggest. “Then we’ll have a look around the campsite. See if we can find something helpful.”
I watch as she swallows hard and nods in agreement. Relieved to see she has a grip on her emotions, I quickly help her into the harness.
My arms and shoulders are sore by the time I pull myself safely to the top of the cliff. She has her arms wrapped around herself and is darting glances into the trees.
“He’s long gone,” I reassure her.
“I think he was after my PB&J sandwich,” she mumbles.
“Probably.” I roll up my ropes and stuff them into the backpack. “Wanna tell me what you were doing out here?”
“Looking for my sister.” I can almost hear the mental eye-roll in her tone.
“I get that,” I tell her impatiently. “But any reason why up here specifically?”
“I spoke to a woman at the last campground my sister stayed at. Pippa had mentioned wanting to boondock for a few nights and this was one of the places the woman suggested to her. I could tell she’d at least been here. The firepit was used and she left a stack of wood,” she insists. “The phone confirms it.”
I could point out the firewood may well have been someone else—other campers, or even hunters—but she’s right; the phone confirms her sister at least had been here at some point. But the blood was concerning.
Concerning enough, I know I can’t turn my back again.
There goes my bighorn tag.
I toss my pack over my shoulder and start walking toward the vehicles, but I don’t hear her follow. When I stop and turn around, she’s standing in the same spot with her arms crossed over her chest and a stubborn expression on her face.
At least she’s wearing something a little more appropriate today. Jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a pair of hiking boots that look like they’re brand new. Her shoulder-length hair is up in a messy bun and she looks a little more approachable.
Except perhaps for that scowl on her face.
“Let’s go.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving until I find Pippa. With or without you.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose trying to stave off the beginnings of a headache.
“We can have a look around after I put my gear away. I also wouldn’t mind a coffee.”
Maybe that’ll give her something to do while I check out the site for tracks.
“Fine,” she grumbles, bending down to pick up her travel mug before following me to the vehicles.
Nella
While I wait for water to boil, I watch as Fletch slowly walks the site, every so often crouching down to run his fingers over something on the ground. Each time he does, I want to ask if he’s found something, but I hold back.
I can tell he’s annoyed. Heck, irritated appears to be the predominant trait in his personality. Of course, in addition to foul-tempered, moody, rude, and all-around unpleasant. I spoon some ground coffee into the French press I picked up before I add boiling water. Best coffee ever. I’m going to use this thing at home from now on too.
About twenty feet from my van, I see him walk into the new growth and crouch down again. This time he appears to pick something up. Since the coffee has to sit for a few minutes anyway, I wander over to see what he found.
“Got something?”
He glances over his shoulder.
“Maybe. But don’t jump to conclusions.”
I gasp when I recognize the BC license plate he holds up.
“Lots of Canadians come through here every summer.”
“That’s Pippa’s.”
“We don’t know that.”
Fear morphs into anger. At him.
“Would you stop treating me like some idiot? I know my sister’s license plate number by heart.” I point a finger in his direction. “And that is it.”
“Fuck,” I hear him mumble under his breath.
Then he walks to his truck, where he reaches in and pulls out a radio.
“Ama, come in…”
At first there’s a lot of static and then I hear a woman respond.
“Boone?”
“Yup. No reception up here. Need you to contact Wayne Ewing, tell him to head up logging road 4426 and hang a left all the way up Scenery Mountain. He’ll see a couple of vehicles; my truck is one of ’em. Tell him to bring forensics.”
“Sorry, what was that last thing? You’re breaking up…”
“Tell Ewing to bring forensics.”
“God, tell me you didn’t find a body up there…”
His eyes dart to me before he responds.
“No, but we found some signs that missing woman may have been up here.”
“We?”
I watch as he rolls his eyes before darting a look my way.
“Nella Freling is with me.”
One of my eyebrows pulls up when he calls me Nella. My sister calls me Nella, but no one else.
“You finally got a hold of her. Glad to know you pulled your head outta your—”
“Right,” he quickly interrupts her but I’m already grinning.
I really like that woman.
“Also, see if Sully can bring the bird up here.”
“Will do. That it?”
“For now. Boone out.”
“Over and out.”
“For the record,” I start when he tosses the radio back in the truck. “My name is Antonella.”
“Too long to remember. Nella works. Do you remember if she had front and back plates on the motorhome?” he abruptly changes direction.
“She would’ve. I’m positive.”
“Be willing to bet there’s another plate around here somewhere.” Then he reaches back in the truck and comes out with a travel mug. “Fuel first,” he says, jutting it at me.
There is so much I would like to say, but I’m afraid he’ll just turn around, get in his truck, and drive back down the mountain. If my sister is wandering out there somewhere, I’m going to need him.
Each armed with a mug, we head out in opposite directions. I mimic him, staying within ten feet of the edge of the site. I may not be a tracker but I can recognize a license plate.
“Why do you think there’ll be another one?” I call out.
“Heard of a couple of RV thefts recently. Someone took your sister’s motorhome; I can see them switching out the plates before taking it on the road.” He points at a spot in the thin layer of dust on the rock shield. “Aside from your van’s tracks, those of my truck, and what I figure are those from the motorhome, I found a fourth set.”
I’m trying to imagine what might’ve happened and I don’t like the scenarios playing out in my head. In all of them my sister faces off with the thieves and none of them turn out well for her. It only makes me more convinced she’s out here somewhere.
The sheriff’s cruiser arrives fifteen minutes later, a second unmarked SUV behind him.
“Fucking hell, Boone. Quit calling me up on these damn dirt roads. We don’t have enough budget to replace any vehicles.”
“Ewing, meet Antonella Freling.”
Guess he can remember my name after all. I push irritation away and shake hands with the sheriff.
“You’ve got a sister missing from these parts,” he acknowledges.
“Yes. I’m surprised you know. No one seems to take me very seriously.”
“Oh, I heard. Sheriff’s Office has been keeping an eye out. Truth is, this is a big county, ma’am. We’ve got lots of ground to cover. Can’t send search parties out when we don’t know where she went missing from.”
“We do now,” I tell him. “She went missing right here.”
Fletch drops the license plate on the hood of his cruiser.
“Don’t touch,” he warns the sheriff when he reaches for it. “Right now it only has my prints and those of whoever took it off the motorhome.”
“Maybe it fell off? Caught on a branch?”
God, what is in the water here? Are all these people so stubborn they can’t see what’s right in front of them?
I reach in my pocket and pull out Pippa’s satellite phone and lay it beside the license plate on the hood.
“I found that on a ridge back there.” I crook my thumb over my shoulder. “Twenty feet down a cliff on a ledge about three feet wide. Found blood there too.”
“Well, shit,” he mumbles before turning around to a guy waiting beside the second SUV. “Hey, Cohen! Bring your kit!”
Twenty minutes later I’m standing beside the sheriff on the edge of the cliff looking down. Fletch is on the ledge with Cohen, who is testing the blood.
I feel like I’m going to be sick, but I shove it down.
“Human!” Cohen calls up.
I’m not surprised but it’s still a shock to have it confirmed.
“Son of a bitch,” the sheriff mumbles before turning to me. “Pardon my French.”
“Will you look for her now?”
“We’d need to get a search party together. Set up a command post. It’s gonna take some time.”
I could scream I’m so frustrated, instead I turn around and head for the van and my backpack and water bottle. I’m not going to waste another minute waiting, and I don’t care what either of these guys have to say.