Inspector Green Mysteries 9-Book Bundle (306 page)

Green studied the impressions in the gravel. He was used to analyzing footprints, but these had no form. “Can you tell if it’s one person or two?”

Jethro shook his head. “Can’t even tell if it’s human. There’s no edging, no definition. It could even be someone trying to save him.”

Green shuddered as he tried to imagine the terror of those last moments when Daniel realized that he couldn’t stop his slide. That he was heading toward certain death. Had he clawed desperately at the loose ground, scrambled for a toehold? Or had he frozen in terror and abandoned himself to his fate?

Green could see no sign that Daniel had struggled. He felt sick as he backed away. A shout pulled him away from his dark place. Sullivan and Elliott were standing in the middle of the ridge, where the land dipped slightly to form a bowl and where the grass, sage, and moss formed a soft carpet. He walked gratefully away from the edge.

As he drew nearer he could see clear depressions in the grass. Big squares where tents had flattened it and smaller squares where presumably their packs and other gear had been stored.

“This is where they camped,” Elliott said excitedly. “Two tents, a firepit, and Brian found a latrine over behind that rock.”

Green followed his gesture to a rock some distance from the campsite, close to the point where Daniel had fallen. The wind was brutal across the top of the ridge but the shallow bowl at the centre offered protection as if cradling hands welcomed the feeble sunlight in.

“Jethro, can you tell how long ago they were here?”

Jethro looked deadpan. “Sure, I’ll just get my crystal ball out of my bag.”

It was the first moment of levity in the grim horrors of the day and they all welcomed the chance to laugh. Elliott felt the ashes in the firepit.

“Before today, for sure. Stone cold.”

Jethro squatted to examine the holes left by the tent pegs. “A few days. It’s rained and dried since then, and the edges are crumbling. See how they’re smoothing out? And rain has washed soil into the holes. Nature reclaims its own.”

Green thought back to the last rainfall, three days earlier, and his heart sank. The trail was days old. They were still far behind.

He tried to put himself in the group’s shoes. They were excited, hot on the trail of a treasure, and following directions left decades earlier by Scott’s grandfather. In a mason jar, of all things. It was beyond a fairytale.

But the fairytale had turned deadly when one of them had drifted too close to the edge and slid to his death. Had it been an accident? Was Daniel stumbling around in the dark, maybe drunk and looking for the privy? Or had it been a terrified run for his life, away from a bear or a pack of wolves?

He glanced at the surrounding ground, trying to read the land as Jethro did. He saw lots of flattened areas, piles of firewood, and some flat stones, but no obvious signs of violence, like churned up earth, bloodstains, or fragments of torn fabric.

“Jethro, can you tell if there was a struggle or an animal attack?”

“I’ll just get that crystal ball again,” he said. Then his eyes rested on Green thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. No, I don’t see that. They were here awhile, or planned to be here awhile. They had collected firewood and flat stones to serve as tables. And when they left, it was not in a hurry. They put sand on the fire, covered over their latrine, and cleaned up after themselves.”

Green frowned. “Then they were not under threat when they left?”

Jethro shrugged. “Not immediate. That doesn’t mean they weren’t scared.”

Green looked around the pristine campsite. An inconsistency nagged at him, and the possible answers were even scarier than the questions. He signalled to Sullivan to come away from the group. He’d always done his best thinking with calm, practical Sullivan as his sounding board.

“I don’t like this,” he murmured. “Something doesn’t add up. If one of us had just fallen off the cliff, what would be our natural reaction?”

“To go look for them. Which they don’t appear to have done.”

“Or if they did, they just left him there once they found out he was dead.”

Sullivan didn’t reply, merely waited, as he always did, while Green followed his train of thought. “The only reason they wouldn’t go to look for him would be if they were running for their lives.”

“Which also doesn’t appear to be the case.”

Green stared bleakly out over the mountains. “Why did they just pack up and leave? They even covered their shit hole, for God’s sake. Why did they leave him there? Why didn’t they call for help? Surely to God —” He swallowed. “Surely to God Daniel’s death was more important than their damn treasure hunt!”

“There might be another explanation. They might have decided to abort their mission, gone back to their canoes to get help.”

“We would have seen them when we came up. We were following their trail.”

“I know, Mike. I don’t have an explanation. I just think there probably is one. They panicked when Daniel died. They didn’t know what to do, so they packed up and moved on.” Sullivan pursed his lips and grew thoughtful. “You know, most animals are nocturnal. Maybe a bear or wolf attacked the campsite at night and drove Daniel to his death, but the rest of them fended it off. In the morning, the animal would be gone but they knew he’d be back the next night, so they packed up camp and left. Careful to leave no trace of their presence so it wouldn’t attract the animal again.”

As an argument, it hung by a thread. Green searched his face. He saw no hint of deception or disbelief, but he suspected Sullivan was just trying to reassure him. Sullivan, the pragmatist, the devil’s advocate, had relinquished that usual role in favour of friendship.

Movement distracted him. He turned to see Elliott and Jethro setting up camp. He glanced at the sky. The wind was still sharp but the sun was struggling to shine through the clouds in the west.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “We should be looking for their trail.”

Elliott shook his head. “We’re going to wait for the recovery team. This is an excellent place for a helicopter to land, and they’ll need us to lead them to the body.”

Green’s face flamed red with shame. How quickly he had forgotten the poor man lying at the bottom of the cliff. Even now, his frustration battled his shame. The recovery team would be bringing Daniel’s sister as well, at her own insistence. She would need, and deserve, answers and support. But all the while, Hannah was forging ahead through the wilderness, her whereabouts and safety unknown.

And all the while, the scariest question of all. He didn’t know Scott. He didn’t know Pete. But he thought he knew Hannah. How could she have simply packed up camp and moved on, leaving a fellow traveller dead or dying at the bottom of the cliff?

“I have to go after them,” Green said.

Elliott was pounding a tent peg into the rocky soil and he paused in mid-swing. “The SAR team and helicopter will be here in the morning. That will be soon enough.”

Green shook his head. “Something is wrong. My daughter wouldn’t take off like this unless she was in trouble.”

“Maybe she just went along with the others’ decision.”

“I know Hannah! She’s stubborn as they come. She wouldn’t let someone else call the shots. She’s scared, or she’s being forced.”

Elliott scanned the endless hills, as if in search of them. Or answers. “We can’t split up. Too dangerous.”

“I’ll take that risk.” Green bent down to pick up his pack, summoning a semblance of calm. He knew Elliott would never let emotion be the guiding principle in a dangerous situation. Nor would he, if he were in charge of this operation. “We’ll go two and two. Brian will stay with you. He’s an investigator second to none and can give the Mounties all the advice and help they need. Jethro is a tracker. Let me take him and the dog with me.”

Elliott started to shake his head.

“This is my daughter! I don’t have a choice. Do you want me sneaking off by myself into the wilderness? Because that’s your choice.”

Elliott flushed a dangerous red. “You’ll be dead in a day, you fool. What good will you do your daughter then?”

Green straightened up, slinging his pack onto his back. “Let’s put it to a vote.”

“A week ago you couldn’t even pitch a tent!”

“Desperation makes a fast learner,” Green retorted. Without giving Elliott more time to protest, Green turned his back to round up the others. Much the same arguments ensued.

“I have no problem surviving out there by myself,” Jethro said to Green finally. “But I don’t want you getting me killed. I’ll take you as long as you promise to do everything I say.”

Sullivan had said nothing but he’d been frowning. Now he grunted. “That’ll be the day.”

Green swung on him. “I don’t want either of us killed, Brian, so yes, Jethro will be in charge of protecting us against nature. But if it comes to danger by people, then I call the shots.” He turned to Jethro. “Deal?”

Jethro nodded but Sullivan still wasn’t done. “Mike, you’re not a SWAT team. And don’t forget, you have others relying on you too. A five-year-old son, a baby on the way. Don’t they rate?”

“Fuck off, Brian. This is not an either or. This is about Hannah, period.”

Fury quivered in the silence between them. Finally Elliott stepped into the brink. “I still want you to wait till tomorrow. Then we can send a properly equipped team.”

Green steadied himself with a deep breath. “Tomorrow you can send all the teams you want after us. We’ll even mark the way for you. But we have to get started today.” Fed up with the united front, Green turned on his heel to stride across the grass. With daylight waning, he knew they had little time to get started on the trail.

“You don’t even know where the fuck they went!” Sullivan shouted.

“I do, in fact,” Jethro said, calmly packing up his own bag. “I picked up their trail on the far side of that mound. They’re heading south into that valley.”

It took the four of them half an hour and more argument to divide up the supplies. Green chafed as he watched the precious daylight trickling between their fingers, but there were still a few good hours left when Jethro led off at a half trot. Green pushed himself to follow, determined not to be a hindrance to the mission.

The valley was deep in twilight by the time Jethro stopped at the base of yet another bluff. They had slogged through forests, up boulder-strewn creek beds, and across alpine meadows, all the time working their way farther and farther south. Away from the Nahanni and into the deepest, most untouched backcountry. Jethro had rarely broken the silence except to give instructions, but Green was grateful. He needed every breath for the journey.

Up ahead rose the grey flank of another formidable mountain. Jethro pointed toward it. “Looks like they’re headed through there. Probably skirted around it or went through that pass. But it’s getting dark and dangerous. We’ll camp here and figure that out in the morning.”

Green sank to his knees and pulled out his water canteen. He doubted he had the strength to pitch their tent, let alone prepare dinner, but Jethro wasted no time. Barely an hour later, warmed by a roaring fire and a bowl of rehydrated chili, Green was dead asleep.

Chapter Nineteen

 T
he next morning, half an hour after waking, they were tackling the mountainside, following a dry stream. Green’s body protested every move, but he kept quiet. Luckily Jethro moved slowly as he picked the trail from the rocky ground. Just after lunch, he lost the trail. They were working their way across a broad slab of rock toward a gap in the mountain range ahead. He roamed in a wide arc, sent Tatso out to search, backtracked, juggled his map and compass, retraced the wide arc, and finally returned to Green. He spread out the map on the rock.

“No physical trail,” he said. “Solid rock. So we use logic. Our party has been heading pretty steadily southwest. Even when they detour to go around a difficult point, they return to that direction, as if they’re following a compass reading.”

“So that means they’re probably going to carry on southwest.”

Jethro nodded. “I think they’re going toward the Little Nahanni River. There used to be a lot of prospecting interest up in those mountains. But this ridge is in the way. They might go around it through this valley —” He traced a large arc on the map.

“But that might take days.”

“Right. Or they might go through that pass up there.”

To Green, the solution was obvious but he held his tongue. He’d made a deal; Jethro was in charge. “Which do we do?”

Jethro eyed the steep, barren slope up to the gap. The ground was unstable, the climb formidable. “We go around.”

“But —” Green stopped himself. “How much time would we lose?”

Jethro shrugged. “As long as time is all we lose, we’re ahead.”

“If you were on your own, would you go over the pass?”

“We each know our own wilderness,” he replied.

In the background a dull roar began to grow. It swelled until the thundering drumbeat of a helicopter echoed off the mountainside. Jethro lifted his binoculars and pointed. At first the helicopter was a distant speck against the leaden sky, but soon it took shape, circling and swooping downward out of sight like a huge yellow bird. With a nod of satisfaction, Jethro sheathed his binoculars.

“Good. We’ll leave them a marker of the direction we’ve chosen.”

They made better time now that they were walking across open ground. Jethro paused now and then to check for tracks, but he had his eye on the thick forest that marked the ravine at the foot of the mountain. By mid afternoon they had reached the trees and stopped to pull on bug shirts before working their way slowly through the dense brush. Jethro found an animal track and followed it, carefully examining the soft forest loam.

“Wolves, moose, grizzlies…. This is a busy highway. Can’t tell if any humans used it yet.”

Up ahead they heard the gurgle of water, first a soft whisper that soon grew to a sibilant rush. Both Jethro and Green quickened their pace. They needed to replenish their water supply and Green longed to plunge his burning feet into the ice-cold stream.