TUESDAY, 9:59 A.M.
BRIDGER-TETON NATIONAL FOREST
The sun shone harsh and bright on the trail by midmorning and Heath paused to remove his Stetson. He wiped his brow. He found the spot easily enough, though dusk had set in when he’d ridden Boots up the trail to search. But he was on foot today.
He pressed his hand over the familiar throb in his side. He’d received a gunshot wound last fall, and though it had fully healed, he could still feel the pain. The doctor had explained that his experience was psychological. In other words, the pain was all in his head. He could definitely believe that. With each throb, the experience flashed in his mind.
He’d already been through tragedy in his life, and he’d had plenty of stressful experiences during his time overseas as a Green Beret—so why was it that this one event had stayed with him? Changed him?
Left him doubting himself.
He pushed the doubts aside for now.
“This is it. I tethered Boots to that twisted pine to the left. I made my way down where the trail slopes to the river right here.”
“This is the spot then. Ms. Reynolds led us here earlier. Rangers identified that trench for us. Called it Draper’s Gully.”
He glanced at Cook. “I thought Taggart was going to meet us.”
Deputy Cook shrugged. “He was supposed to, but looks like he’s over there now.” He lifted his chin, gesturing across the river.
Heath couldn’t see them and made his way down a bit, then recognized the Bridger County Sheriff uniforms as well as the park ranger uniforms. The red-haired woman must be Harper. The other small woman was a brunette. Detective Moffett. She didn’t wear a uniform. He’d been on the receiving end of her interrogation skills last fall when they’d needed to unravel the thick tangle of murders, deception, and betrayal spanning two decades.
Someone held a leash for what he would guess was a search dog.
Heath figured they’d already had the dogs out looking for the body last night, searching for a criminal on the run, but they’d come up empty-handed. Today they needed to confirm the location.
Cook followed him down. “He’s beginning to doubt her story, especially since there is no camera so there are no pictures. What do you think? You were there.”
“I didn’t see the murder. I only faced off with the grizzly and Harper showed up with the bear spray.”
“But what do you think about her story? What’s your impression of her?”
Heath didn’t like Cook’s insinuation. “I think she’s telling the truth. Why would she make this up?”
“It could be that she believes her story, but it never happened. She did bump her head, you know.”
He’d heard of amnesia, but could a person remember events that never happened?
“My Aunt Johnida experienced that. She had memories of stuff that never happened. It’s called . . . wait . . . it’s on the end of my tongue.” The deputy snapped his fingers. Tilted his head. “Confabulation. That’s it. When someone gets a brain injury, they can have false memories.”
“She doesn’t have a traumatic brain injury.” He didn’t think. Had Dr. Jacob looked into that? He couldn’t remember if Harper had gotten an MRI last night while he waited or if she would need to go into Jackson for that. Maybe Dr. Jacob had scheduled one for her. Harper hadn’t said.
Since Heath wasn’t a medical professional, he didn’t want to have this conversation and say the wrong thing, considering the deputy had asked his opinion. His opinion shouldn’t count one iota.
Only the facts mattered.
He thought back to everything that had happened. Again. Not like he hadn’t relived the incident in his mind a hundred times already. He believed Harper was telling the truth about what she saw. If he was wrong about that, and she had false memories—that would mean a woman hadn’t been murdered. That would be for the best.
But it would also mean Harper had some significant issues to deal with.
“Let’s look around here and then you can take me across the river,” Heath said.
“That’ll take a half hour or more. They might be gone by then. Besides, they already looked here.”
“Still. I want to look around myself and see what’s what.” The rain had come down hard, but the tree canopy would have sheltered the area from the full torrent.
He found the boulder next to the gully, the position that matched Harper’s description of where she’d been standing when she took her photographs. Whatever evidence the rain hadn’t washed away, he hoped Detective Moffett had collected and documented earlier.
Across the river, maybe Moffett would find specks of blood where the body had fallen. Taggart was claiming that so far there was no evidence of a crime. How could that be if someone shot and killed a woman? Even if it had rained last night, and from the looks of it, harder here than in town.
Heath returned his attention to what had happened on this side of the river.
Harper said the shooter had seen her. Heath imagined Harper looking on, watching the crime through her telephoto lens and seeing the murderer look at her through his scope. She panicked. He could definitely see that happening. He gazed upward and could see how if someone was in a hurry and scared, it would be easy for them to stumble and hit their head. Somewhere between that boulder where she’d taken her pictures and the trail, she’d lost her camera.
He glanced down the gaping gully and saw nothing but rocks, broken limbs, and pine needles. Then something shiny wedged under a fallen branch caught his attention. He slid down the incline and peered under the branch.
A cell phone. Harper’s? Or someone else’s? He was surprised those gathering evidence hadn’t found the cell. Then again, a person would have to be standing at the right location with the sun shining in that specific position for the reflection to be seen. So he was at the right place at the right time.
He looked up and spotted Cook searching near the edge of the gully but closer to the trail. “Hey, Cook, get down here.”
The deputy scrambled to the edge. “What have you got? The camera?”
“A cell phone. I don’t have evidence bags. I’ll let you handle it.” The rain could have ruined the cell and it might be useless to them.
Heath moved out of the way so Deputy Cook could take care of the possible evidence. The deputy snapped a few pictures while Heath turned his attention to the gully, which was washed out from decades of runoff. Branches lay broken. Rock scuffed along the ridge. Someone had gone down into the gully today. The deputies had indeed searched for the camera. But had they also searched for footprints—someone who could have gotten to the camera first? If the killer had watched with his scope for any length of time, he might have seen her drop the camera. He also would have seen her fall and hit her head. He might have made his way across the river so he could get a better shot at Harper.
And found her camera instead. And dropped his cell phone in the process.
Heath lowered himself to sit on a flat boulder and dragged in a breath of mountain air. He listened to the roaring Grayback River echoing off the slope, the encounter with the grizzly still fresh in his mind.
If the killer had Harper’s camera, then he could destroy the pictures. The evidence. Or use those same pictures or other identifying information found on the camera to find her. Taggart’s suggestion that she wasn’t in danger was way off.