The Dead Season (23 page)

I screamed: “
Cisco
!” And flung out my arms for him. The minute I did I began to slip further over the edge. There was more screaming from above me. I felt more hands on my legs, and someone grabbed the bottom of my coat. I heard desperate wheezing sounds coming from Cisco’s throat and I saw the whites of his eyes. It was a chillingly eerie echo of the moment he had fallen over the cliff on the second day of the hike, only this time my worst nightmare was coming true. He was going to die.

I sobbed, “Cisco, here!”

He tried. He couldn’t make it.

One of the boys said, “I can’t get a grip! She’s too far over!”

“Let me go!” I cried. “Let me go!”

Someone else said, “Cut the rope!”

“No!”

“Let him go!”

“No!”

“You’re choking him, man! He’s dying!”

Someone sobbed, “Cisco!”

I screamed, “Don’t!”

But suddenly the tension on the leash was released and Cisco tumbled away from me, the leash that had once been attached to my waist lashing through the air after him.

I was still screaming when they pulled me over the ledge. I saw a blur of terrified faces, but immediately scrambled back to the edge, frantically searching for Cisco. I heard Lourdes cry, “There he is!” She dropped down beside me just as I saw a snowball about twelve feet below transform itself into a golden retriever who wrestled himself to his feet and shook off his coat. My heart started to beat again. “He’s okay!”

The joy in her face reflected my own relief and was echoed in the sea of dirty, pinched, brave and suddenly hopeful faces that surrounded me. Jess and Pete punched each other on the arms, grinning. Angel and Tiffanie hugged each other. Heather hugged them both. “He’s okay! He’s okay!”  And it was as though they were saying
We’re okay!
We’re all going to be okay!

I hugged Lourdes. “Thanks, you guys.” I was trying not to cry. “Thanks. You were great.”

Angel said, “How’re we going to get him back up here?”

I looked down again. I couldn’t tell whether what Cisco had tumbled into was a stream bed or a natural depression in the gorge, but its walls were sheer and rocky, with no natural access. Cisco was sniffing the snow-covered ground, and I noticed that the snow at the bottom was barely over his paws, which was a good sign. The drift that had fooled us into thinking it was solid had apparently consisted of all the blown snow from the night before.

I said, “Ropes. I’ll go over and—“

Before I finished speaking I saw Jess’s face fall. We had used all our ropes on the descent into the gorge, and they were still tied to a tree on the upper rim. I said quickly, “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. Let me think.”

I turned back to Cisco and called him. He was circling the ground with his nose to the snow, dragging his leash, and when he heard my voice he looked up, but immediately returned his attention to the snow, pawing at the ground.

“What’s he doing?” Lourdes said.

“He’s found something.” Tiffanie peered over my shoulder.

Heather said, “What—?” And then she stopped, her eyes filled with reluctant horror as they met mine. “You don’t suppose… could it be Mrs. Evans?”

Everyone crowded close to the ledge then, watching Cisco paw the ground the way people watch the Jaws of Life cut open a crushed automobile on the highway. Angel and Tiffanie clutched each other’s hands. No one spoke. I didn’t want to speak, but I had to. It was my job... and Cisco’s.

“Cisco,” I said, “Find.”

He began to dig with both paws. Snow flew. He thrust his nose into the snow, sneezed and shook his head, and dug some more. The next time he pushed his muzzle into the snow, he came up with something in his mouth. I held my breath until I saw what it was.

It was a phone. My phone.

“Oh my God,” breathed Heather. “Do you think it still works? Could it possibly still work?”

I called, “Cisco, good boy, good find! Cisco, here!”

Swishing his tail proudly, Cisco marched to the bottom of the embankment and leapt up a few feet, then skidded back down. The phone was still in his mouth. He tried again. This time he made it a little higher, but slid down before he could gain purchase.

I shrugged out of my backpack. “Okay, you’re going to have to lower me over the edge. Somebody find me a long branch or stick—five or six feet. Hurry!” and then, “Cisco, wait!”

Cisco stopped flinging himself at the bank and backed off, swinging his tail uncertainly, still holding onto the phone. The kids scrambled to find a broken branch, all the while demanding, “What are you going to do? How can you pull him up with this?”

“Hold onto my legs,” I said, and, grabbing the long, crooked stick, I slithered carefully over the edge.

“Cisco,” I called down to him, “Here!”

He lunged at the bank again, and this time I swung the stick downward to catch the end of his leash. I twisted the stick around until the fabric of the leash caught, ever so precariously, in the fork of the stick. Working quickly and carefully, I pulled the stick back toward me, and when Cisco started to slide down again I jerked the stick upward until I could grab the end of the leash. “Good boy!” I called to Cisco. I was gasping with exertion and my arms were trembling, but I held on fast. “Pull me back!” I called over my shoulder and to Cisco, “Cisco, scramble! Good dog! Scramble!”

Inch by excruciating inch, I guided Cisco up the bank while my teammates held on to my coat, my boots and my belt to keep me from tumbling over. My shoulders were screaming with pain, my kneecaps had gone numb, and the leash was wound so tightly around my hand that I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. But when Cisco’s face was within inches of mine, when he was close enough for me to grab his collar and haul him over the edge I collapsed backwards, shaking and gasping for breath. The kids cheered and descended on Cisco, hugging him and rubbing his fur and slapping his shoulders. I pried the phone from Cisco’s mouth before throwing my own arm around his neck, rubbing my forehead against his. “Good dog,” I kept saying, over and over again. “Good, good dog.”

When the phone began to vibrate in my hand at first I didn’t feel it, or understand what it meant. Then I opened my palm and stared at the flashing blue screen in disbelief. Lourdes must have turned it on when she was brandishing it in front of Paul on the bridge. It might even have been the sound of the vibration that had attracted Cisco to dig for it, or it might have been the memory of the peanut butter that had been smeared on the last phone he found.

Everyone went silent, staring, with me, at the miracle of technology that buzzed in my hand. Then someone cried, “Answer it!”

Convulsively, I pushed the “Speak” button.

“Raine, for God’s sake,” Miles said shortly, “I know you’re angry with me but you’re acting like a child.” His voice was broken with static and fading fast. “I’ve—been—two days. You—”

“Miles,” I gasped hoarsely. I wanted to weep with relief for the sound of his voice, and maybe I did. “Miles we need help—”

“What? I can’t hear—”

“We’re in trouble!” I cried. “We’re trapped, and Paul is dead—”

“Raine—fading…. Where…”

The screen went black, and there was nothing was dead air.

CHAPTER TWENTY
-ONE

F
or a moment there was silence in the room. Everyone looked at me, waiting for me to finish. But they knew how it ended.

“We were too exhausted to go any farther,” I said. “And too defeated. When the phone died, it was like everyone just gave up. We found a place to make camp a few hundred feet away. The next morning we heard the rescue helicopters. I guess the phone still had enough juice to transmit the GPS coordinates to Miles when he called.”

Ritchie nodded. “It did. Mr. Young did everything but call out the National Guard, and I’m not too sure he wouldn’t have managed that too if you hadn’t been found when you were. Quite an adventure you had there, Miss Stockton. One question.”

But he turned suddenly at the sound of the opening door. My own ears heard nothing but panting breath and scrambling claws, and I gave a cry of joy as I jumped up from the table and ran to embrace my dog. “Cisco!”

Buck let the leash drop and Cisco ran to me. I almost overturned my chair in my hurry to get to him, dropping to the floor and flinging my arms around his neck. He smelled of antiseptic and warm fur and simple, unadulterated love. He tried to climb into my lap, he was so happy to see me, and I just sat there on the floor, hugging him, for the longest time.

I heard Ritchie say, “Sheriff, I thought we agreed you were to watch from the observation room.”

And then I heard another familiar voice: “We got bored. How the hell are you, Ritch?”

“Uncle Roe!” I jumped to my feet and flung myself on my uncle, burying my face in his wool sweater while he patted my back soothingly, just like he used to do when I was a child.

I stepped away from him, searching his face in astonishment and delight. “What are you doing here? How did you—?”

“Don’t be silly, Rainbow, did you think I’d leave you by yourself up here? Your aunt would have my hide.”

I turned to Buck. “I thought you were in Florida.”

He shrugged and gave a faint smile. He looked weary and strained, his strong good looks fading against the stress of the past days. “This is my case, you know. The whole thing started in my county.”

I wanted to hug him, to touch him. He had been my husband for so long, and he was here now, when I needed him most. But he belonged to someone else now. The moment was awkward and aching.

Cisco had made his waggy-tailed round of the table and now pressed his shoulder against my knee. I said softly to Buck, “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

He nodded and touched my arm. “I know.”

Then he turned to Detective Ritchie. “We just got word that the search team found a body that they believe to be Rachel Evans. The apparent cause of death was exposure. Her coat was covered with blood, which I suspect you’ll find matches that of the murder victim.”

Uncle Roe added, “They also bagged as evidence a hatchet that she had in her backpack. I believe the men on the scene said there were stains on the blade that looked suspicious.”

Another man came in behind my uncle and handed detective Ritchie a stack of folders.  He spoke lowly but I heard him say, “So far the statements are consistent.  Here’s the coroner’s prelim.  Looks like the hatchet is the murder weapon.”

I felt a little woozy. I sank to the floor again, burying my face in Cisco’s coat, because I wasn’t entirely certain how much longer my knees would support me.

The two investigators shuffled the file folders between them for what seemed like endless moments, opening them, reading the contents, conferring in mutters over a page or two.  Then Agent Brown glanced at Detective Ritchie. “Well, then. That’s that.” He closed his notebook. “I’ll hang around until we get the rest of the statements, but I think I’ve got all I need here.”

Sonny stood up and extended her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Special Agent Brown.” She offered her hand to Detective Ritchie. “Detective.” She turned to Mr. Willis. “Is there any place open for lunch, do you think?”

I lifted my head as the two attorneys began to pack their briefcases. Just like that, it was all over and everyone was friends. I stood slowly, winding Cisco’s leash around my hand.

Detective Ritchie said to me pleasantly, “We’ll let you know if we need anything more, Miss Stockton. Meantime, why don’t you go on home and get some rest? Roe, Buck, let’s get a cup of coffee and see where we stand on this thing.”

Buck said, “In a minute.”

Agent Brown and Detective Ritchie left the room with my uncle, and I turned in bewilderment to Sonny. “That’s it?”

She smiled. “That’s it. If anything else comes up they will let Bryson or me know. Meanwhile, don’t talk to the press—and believe me, this will be a story. It may take a few months before all the details are ironed out, but since the prime suspect in both the Maddox incident and in the death of Paul Evans is dead herself, I really don’t see how much further this can go.” She glanced at Mr. Willis. “Do you?”

He said, “I believe our job here is done.” He smiled and extended his hand to me. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Stockton. And Cisco.” He looked down at Cisco, and Cisco, hearing his name, grinned back up at him. “It’s not often I get a chance to meet a real hero.”

I shook his hand, still feeling a little stunned. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

He replied, “I’m not the one you should thank.”

I knew he was right.

Sonny said, “Come have lunch with us, Raine. Do you need a ride home?”

Buck glanced at her. “I think we’ve got that covered.”

I said to Sonny, “I figured it out.”

She looked puzzled.

“Before... when I said I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t turned out like those kids. I figured it out.” I smiled, though it was an effort. “This is why. You, flying in from the coast in a storm. And Buck coming back from Florida on a moment’s notice. And Uncle Roe, and even Maude, ready to drive through a blizzard because I was in trouble. My folks may be gone but I’ve still got family. That’s the difference.”