Black Sun Descending (22 page)

“Don't try to make it seem like you're the good guy,” said Hayduke. “Every single one of these people wanted the dam torn down and the river designated Wilderness. You two, and likely others, didn't. Were you willing to kill for it?”

“I think you were out in the sun too long today,” said Love.

“We're going to walk out of here tomorrow and go straight to the
FBI
with what we know,” said Hayduke. “We'll let them decide if your little business relationship warrants investigation.”

“You think they'll believe you?” asked Love, smiling. “Look at you. You're both barking mad.”

“They'll believe me,” said Silas. “I'll give them Jane's file. Then they'll believe me.”

“There's no file because there is no crime. Jane Vaughn was out to bury us. It had gotten personal for her. She fabricated that correspondence. She got what was coming to her—” said Love.

“What did you say?” asked Silas.

“You go to the
FBI
and I'll sue your ass off for slander. I'll have my lawyer sue you for fraudulently creating documents. You'll be buried so deep in lawsuits that you'll
never
find your wife.”

Hayduke turned to Silas. “I think we've got what we wanted. Let's header.”

“And what do you think you've got?” asked Love.

“Motive, plain and simple,” said Silas. “You had every good reason to want Jane Vaughn dead. Maybe all of them. Maybe you did it and maybe you didn't, but there sure is plenty of reason why you would have wanted to. That's enough to get the
FBI
looking your way, enough to get the
IRS
looking into your business dealings. It might not lead to a murder charge, but if what I learned about your investments is true, then at least one of you is going up the river.”

Hinkley looked at Love. Hayduke tensed beside Silas. “Nobody is going to believe you. Nobody will be able to find you.” Love reached into his pocket and drew the .22 pistol. As he did, Hayduke reached under the counter and swung a cast iron frying pan in a neat arc in front of him. As the pistol came level with the table the frying pan connected with Love's arm and made a sickening crack. Love bellowed with pain as the pistol clattered away into the corner of the kitchen. Love went down on his knees, his face contorted with pain. “You broke my hand!” he bellowed.

Hinkley looked at Hayduke, who held the pan before him like a club. “You want to cry like your friend?” Hayduke asked. “I'll crack your goddamned skull with this. Now get out of my way.”

Hinkley backed off into the corner. Hayduke stepped around them and Silas followed.

“I strongly suggest you enjoy your trip,” said Silas as he passed the howling man. “It's going to be your last.”

They stepped out into the dark. Hayduke held the frying pan still. “What do you want to do?”

“Get out of here,” said Silas.

“Follow me,” said Hayduke, tossing the pan into the bushes.

They ran along the trail in the dark. When they reached the bridge near the campground across Bright Angel Creek Hayduke stopped. “We could phone from the lodge. They have a phone there.”

“Right, and sit around all night waiting for Hinkley or Love to find that pistol and shoot us? No thanks.”

“There's likely a ranger at the ranger station. He could help.”

“He's going to arrest a park superintendent? You've got to be kidding me. Hinkley will tell the ranger that we attacked Love. We'll be locked up. No way.”

“Then we have to get to the South Rim and call your friends in the
FBI
.”

“That seems like the only way.”

“How fast can you pack up your shit?”

“Five minutes.”

“Make it three. I bet Love is telling old Chas Hinkley that if he doesn't catch up to us, and right now, his career is over.”

They packed up their gear, stuffing their tents and light sleeping bags into their packs and loading cooking gear and food on top. Silas filled up his water bottles at the pump in the campground. Hayduke had two beers left from the six-pack he had carried down. “Fuck it,” he said. He opened one and drank it empty. He crushed it in one hand and looked around for a place to throw it, then stuffed it into his pack.

To get to the Bright Angel Trail they would have to backtrack and cross Bright Angel Creek just a few hundred yards from the guest lodge. Silas didn't like this idea. “Do we go back across the bridge?”

“No way. That's five hundred yards closer to Hinkley and Love. Let's ford the creek. It will be faster, and there's less chance that we'll run into our friends.”

“The water is pretty high.”

“You can do it.”

They stepped into Bright Angel Creek. In the darkness it was impossible to tell how deep the water was and where rocks or holes in the stream bed might trip them up. Hayduke went first, his squat sturdy body surging through the water. He pushed through the creek, the water forming a wave that reached his belt as he moved toward the far side.

Silas followed. The current, carrying meltwater from the winter's snow pack on the North Rim, pulled hard at him. He had spent little time fording creeks while searching for Penelope; his inexperience overwhelmed him. He stepped on a slippery rock in the middle of the stream and lost his footing. He went down on one knee, the creek surging up over his chest, and before he could regain his balance he was under the water. The world became dark and silent except for the thrum of the water around him. He panicked and swallowed a mouthful of creek while he scratched desperately for the shore.

His head popped up momentarily and then he went down again. He rolled once, twice, three times in the powerful current and lost track of which way was up and which was down. His pack weighed down on him. His hands grabbed at rocks and gravel on the stream bed. How far was he from the mouth of the Colorado? If he couldn't right himself before Bright Angel emptied into the river, he would drown for certain.

Suddenly he was out of the water. He crouched, choking, and spat a stream of saliva into the creek. Hayduke had him around the chest and was dragging him to shore. Silas got his feet under him and regained a little dignity by clambering up the bank under his own steam. He sat down, coughed again, and leaned back on his pack.

“Next time we'll take the bridge.” Hayduke laughed. “Shit, I even spilled my last beer. We better get a move on. I think I see lights at the campground.”

“If we split up, one of us could take the Bright Angel Trail and the other the South Kaibab. That way we stand a better chance of getting to the South Rim and calling the
FBI
,” argued Silas. His head ached from the roll in the creek. He touched a place above his eyebrow where he had hit his head on a rock.

“I got to tell you, we split up and I'm not sure you'll make it. You look like shit, and I think I'll end up humping your gear before the night is out. We stick together. We take the South Kaibab Trail. It's shorter, and steeper, but they will think we're going to the ranger station at Indian Garden. If they're following, that's the way they will go.”

Silas nodded. “Alright, we stick together.”

“Now you sound like Doc in
The Monkey Wrench Gang
!”

“Good God,” said Silas, but he grinned. “Let's go, I think I see lights.”

THE MOON ROSE
around midnight and painted the desert landscape the color of pale milk. The trail was clear enough, a path through the shadows of agave and salt brush that climbed steeply up countless switchbacks. By three o'clock they had reached Yaki Point. Silas needed to rest. “Alright, but no sleep. I'm still worried about your head. Drink some water, eat whatever you've got in your soggy pack, and then we get a move on.”

“When did you become such a drill sergeant? And don't tell me it was Iraq.”

Hayduke just smiled in the moonlight. “I love this place at night,” he said. “It's like hiking through a dream.”

Silas contemplated the nightscape. The cliffs that rose above them seemed to shimmer in the light of the moon; every piñon pine and juniper stood in stark relief to the ghostly glow of the rocks. He looked all around himself. The canyon was two hundred and seventy-seven miles long, sixteen miles across, a mile deep. He wondered if Paul Love and Chas Hinkley had killed Penelope over something as stupid as a shady business deal and legislation to designate Wilderness that would almost certainly be defeated in Congress. Had she died for nothing? He rubbed his head.

“Alright soldier, on yer feet,” snarled Hayduke. “I can almost smell the coffee at Grand Canyon Village.”

IT WAS STILL
an hour before sunrise when they reached the South Rim and the Kaibab trailhead. Their vehicles were parked at the Bright Angel trailhead, several miles from where they emerged from the canyon. There was little traffic on the road, so they walked along the Rim Trail.

“This is going to be one long day,” said Silas, dropping his pack on the ground. His clothing had dried from the swim in Bright Angel Creek only to get soaked through once more with sweat on the hike up. He was alternately overheated and chilled, tired, and had blisters on his feet because of his wet socks.

“Let's coffee up and make some calls,” said Hayduke.

“SLOW DOWN, SILAS.”
Katie Rain answered on the fourth ring.

“I haven't slept yet. I think I'm going to fall over. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. Start from the beginning and go slow.”

He told her the whole story. When he was done she was silent a moment, then asked, “Are you in any physical danger right now?”

“I don't think so. I don't think Love and Hinkley followed us beyond the Kaibab suspension bridge. They had a rafting trip to lead.”

“Was his wrist broken?”

“I don't know. It could have been.”

“We'll monitor calls for an evacuation. In the meantime, can you get to Flag? Taylor has moved the operation back here from Page. We're set up at the
FBI
Field Office.”

“I think so. I don't know if I should sleep for a few hours or leave now and sleep later. I'm not thinking very straight.”

“We can ask the Coconino County Sheriff's Department to send a cruiser to pick you up.”

“I don't think so.”

“Why don't you see if you can drive in? It's only an hour and a half. I'll meet you at the field office and escort you in. You can tell Taylor what's going on.”

“Thanks, Katie.”

“Don't mention it. Usually when you call me at six in the morning it's because you've had a bad dream. I'm just glad I'm not going to look for another body right now.”

“The day's still young. I haven't been to bed yet.”

HAYDUKE REFUSED TO DRIVE TO
Flagstaff. “Fuck that” were his exact words.

“The
FBI
is going to want to talk with you.”

“No goddamned way. You go. You can tell the story. I've had enough of the feds and the sheriff and your lawyer friend. I'm going to go and sleep in the desert for a while. Then I'm going back to Page to see what I can find out about Love and Hinkley.”

“How will I find you?” Silas watched Hayduke grin. “Oh, right, you'll find me.”

KATIE MET SILAS
at the
FBI
office just before eight. “You look . . . overtaxed,” she said, smiling.

Silas had changed before the drive, but he was at once sunburnt and pale, the skin around his eyes white and showing his fatigue. “You know how to make a guy feel special,” he said. She handed him an americano.

“I worried that if you relied on the Bureau for coffee, we might lose you as a key witness.”

They went into the building and found Agents Taylor, Ortiz, and Nielsen waiting. “Are we waiting on your lawyer this morning?” asked Agent Taylor.

“No. You've got one hour. Then I'm going to bed.”

“Start talking.”

Silas retold the story, including the flight out of the gorge that morning.

“You think that Love and Hinkley collaborated to kill Jane Vaughn?” asked Ortiz.

“I don't know. But they are worth a careful look.”

“And what would their motive have been?” Ortiz said.

“Money. If Vaughn exposed their business deal, it would have ended Hinkley's career with the Park Service. Love would have almost certainly been in hot water for taking money from a government official. The two of them were no fans of Wilderness designation on the Colorado. I think they figured Vaughn would lord this information over them in the upcoming fight.”

“And Congresswoman Crocket?”

“Who knows? She's against Wilderness, but I don't think she's mixed up with these two in any other way.”

“We'll look,” said Taylor. “Where is your friend?”