Hanging Falls

by Margaret Mizushima

  “There’s a flooded area here about the size of a football field that’s going to cut you off.”

  “Repeat that. What did you say?”

  Mattie shouted above the noise. “The trail is flooded here. See if you can circle around!”

  “Copy that.” Static and a trail of broken words that Mattie couldn’t understand followed. Then, “Cole might know an alternate route.”

  She assumed Cole was with the sheriff on his way up the hazardous trail, and she tamped down the fright that bit of information gave her. “Watch out for flash floods.” She spoke slowly, articulating each word carefully. “The river is out of its banks.”

  The connection went dead, and she could only hope the sheriff had heard her warning. After scanning the torrent below, she asked Robo to come with her and set off into the forest, heading away from the river. She needed to find a way to reach Cole and the others so she could guide them safely uphill away from the flood.

  THIRTEEN

  The wet and bedraggled recovery party of four clustered in a small knot at a spot on the trail above the river, which ripped down the canyon, carrying whole trees along with it. Cole watched the sheriff try to communicate with Mattie and then put his radio back inside his pocket under his slicker, his frustration evident.

  McCoy looked at him. “Mattie says the trail is flooded above and we can’t get through. Do you know an alternate trail?”

  Cole wished he did. “There isn’t one that I know of. But we need to get out of this canyon, that’s for darn sure.”

  Glenna spoke up. “I think I can get us around this. There’s a game trail off to the east, not too far from here.”

  Cole was glad the game warden had been able to come with them. She was relatively new in town, but she’d spent a lot of time out in the field, and for a newcomer, she knew her way around the nearby forests well, maybe better than he did.

  “Shall we wait and see if the waters recede?” McCoy looked at Stella, who sat slumped on her mount, her face pinched with apprehension. “It’s important to get up to the site as soon as we can, but I’m not willing to risk your lives while we do it.”

  “If we can get farther away from this river and find a way up, that would make me happy,” Stella replied.

  Wherever Mattie was, that’s where Cole wanted to be. “If we backtrack out of this canyon, do you think you can find the game trail from there?” he asked Glenna.

  “I think we can head across country from there. It depends on how bad the flooding is.”

  McCoy nodded at her. “Go ahead and take the lead.”

  Cole reined Duke downhill behind Glenna, and the gelding stepped out at a smart pace, evidently happy to be homeward bound. Mountaineer trailed behind on a lead, carrying a packsaddle that contained an empty body bag and tarps.

  The trail had turned into a muddy sluice, dangerous underfoot, and the horses’ shod hooves slid off slippery stones with a clang as they picked their way downhill. The downpour beat against Cole’s Stetson, rolling off the brim in an annoying trickle, even though it protected his face. The turgid river roared off to one side, and he hated having it flow downhill at his back, knowing full well that a wall of water could come down the canyon at any moment, sweeping them off the trail into its maelstrom.

  He kept an eye on the rock walls, looking for a path the horses could traverse, but every crack and crevice had turned into a stream that flowed over the rocky terrain down toward the river. He began to feel desperate as he searched for a way to climb away from the flood.

  Farther down the canyon the rock wall widened out, creating a flatter grassy space near the river. It was already filling with water, but Cole thought they could still cross if they hurried. On the other side, he could see where the forest sloped gradually uphill toward higher ground.

  “There,” Glenna shouted to Cole, pointing out the terrain in front. “Do you think we could get through there with the horses?”

  “I’m certain we could.”

  McCoy reined up beside him and shouted above the noise from the river. “It’s flooded, Cole!”

  A flash flood could take out this route at any minute. “We can make it. But if we don’t move now, we’ll lose our chance.”

  “Go ahead.” McCoy turned to Stella. “Stay close to the packhorse and hold on tight.”

  Cole saw her grip the saddle horn as he turned away and nudged Duke downhill and off the trail toward the standing water. Duke balked at the edge, refusing to enter the flooded glen. Cole wished he were riding Mountaineer instead—that mountain pony would go anywhere and do anything asked of him.

  As he continued to tap Duke’s sides with his heels, he pulled Mountaineer up close, hoping the steady gelding’s proximity would give Duke enough heart to take a step. It worked. Duke gathered himself, tucked his haunches under him, did a few little dancing steps on his front feet, and then leaped into the water, fanning up a huge splash, evidently thinking he could jump the fifty feet ahead of him in one fell swoop.

  Sheesh! Cole made a mental note to give this guy more experience crossing waterways before counting on him in this kind of weather again.

  Mountaineer plodded into the flooded area behind Duke, and together the two horses led the way across, the water rising up to their knees in one place but no higher. The other horses followed without protest, apparently deeming the way safe when their cronies led the way.

  Once they reached dry land, Cole turned to check on Stella. “You okay?”

  Still clinging to her saddle horn, she nodded. “I’m making it. Just lead on, Macduff.”

  Glenna struck out into the forest and Cole followed, scanning in all directions, wanting to keep his bearings. The last thing he needed was for them to get lost or stranded.

  He missed his friend Garrett Hartman more than ever. Garrett knew the woods around Timber Creek better than anyone, and he usually accompanied the sheriff’s posse on this type of mission. But he was recovering from a head injury he’d sustained last month, and though the doctors believed he could make a full recovery in time, he’d been sidelined for now.

  Taking note of the landmarks along the way—a crooked pine struck by lightning here, a huge boulder with a straggly tree growing from the top of it there—Cole followed Glenna through the rugged country, angling away from the river as they went. They left the canyon behind and climbed a ridge, seeking Glenna’s game trail that would lead to higher ground.

  When Cole crested the ridge, he stopped behind Glenna to study the view. Farther downhill away from the river, a flash of movement caught his eye. Riders? Before he could be sure, they disappeared into the trees.

  Cole pointed to the spot. “Glenna, did you see movement down there?”

  “I didn’t. Was it a deer?”

  “I think it was someone on horseback.”

  The sheriff rode up beside Cole and reined to a stop.

  “Abraham,” Cole said to the sheriff, pointing toward the site. “I think I just saw riders headed downhill, but then they disappeared.”

  “How many?”

  “I couldn’t tell, maybe two.” Cole turned to dig his binoculars out of his saddlebag and trained them on the evergreens before sweeping the terrain beyond. “I can’t see them anymore. Here, take a look.”

  McCoy raised the field glasses to his eyes. “This is not the kind of day for a pleasure ride. Mattie said she followed a scent track on the main trail beside the river until it ended in a flooded area. This could be our killers. How far away is that? A mile, a mile and a half?”

  “I think so, and some rough country between here and there.” Cole wished he could’ve glassed the riders before they disappeared. “I only caught a glimpse of them. Let me look again.”

  After taking the binoculars, he focused doggedly, trying to determine what kind of trail existed over the rise. There appeared to be a faint cut through the trees. “I think there’s a game trail through there.”

  “Are you sure you saw riders and not elk?” McCoy
asked.

  Cole remembered the image well enough to be sure. “Yeah, they were riders.”

  McCoy looked at Stella before dismounting. “I’m going to peel off and head down that way. See what I can find. The rest of you go on up to the crime scene.” He retrieved the satellite phone from his saddlebag. “Here, take this so you can contact Deputy Brody. You can also check in at the station if you need to.”

  “All right,” Stella said, her brow furrowed with concern. “Be careful.”

  “I’ll go with the sheriff,” Glenna said, looking at Cole. “That game trail is just a little farther east. You can’t miss it.”

  Cole used the binoculars to scan back uphill where he thought the game trail might run. “I think it runs up inside that draw. We can find it.”

  McCoy finished transferring the phone into Stella’s saddlebag before stepping back up into his saddle. “We’ll stay in touch by cell phone if we can.”

  Cole hated for the two of them to strike off on their own, but he knew it was important that they do so. He echoed Stella’s advice. “Be careful.”

  “You too.” McCoy reined his mount downhill, and Glenna followed. Cole watched them ride away for a moment before turning Duke toward the draw, which he hoped harbored a passable trail.

  * * *

  Mattie jogged downhill on a faint game trail, following Robo through the forest where the footing was actually better than it was on the main trail. Needles from pine and spruce provided absorption into the rich soil rather than the relentless runoff that led to the river. And the timber around her provided shelter from the pelting rain.

  Reaching inside her slicker, she pulled her radio from her shirt pocket. The farther she traveled downhill, the better her connection would be. She whistled for Robo and told him to wait while she checked in with the sheriff.

  “Where are you now, Mattie?” Apparently he’d dropped his usual formal way of addressing his deputies in favor of speedy communication.

  “I’m on a game trail east of the river. It’s free and passable. Looks like a good way to get above the flood.”

  “Glenna and I have split off from the others and headed downhill, trying to catch up with some riders that Cole spotted. We’re east of the river too.”

  As soon as he said he’d split from the others, concern washed through her. “Are you closing in on them?”

  “We started off at least a mile behind them, and the going is rough. I doubt if we can catch up. I hope we can find out where they leave the forest and see if we can at least get some prints or something.” McCoy paused. “Try to call Cole and see if you two can connect. Then take them up to the site.”

  “Will do.” Mattie ended the transmission and took out her cell phone. Relieved to see she was low enough in altitude to have service, she dialed Cole, who answered right away. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Stella and I are following a draw uphill on a game trail about a half mile east of the river. With any kind of luck, we can follow this for a while and end up above the flooding. Where are you?”

  “Somewhere uphill from you. When I get to a vantage point, I’ll see if I can spot you.”

  “Sounds good. Stay in touch.”

  Mattie hated to end the call and lose contact, but there was no good reason to keep the line open. She returned her phone to the pocket inside her slicker. “Let’s go,” she told Robo, and he trotted out in front as they continued downhill.

  After about five hundred yards of relatively clear footing, the trail entered a boggy area where Robo suddenly showed an interest in the ground, putting his nose down to sniff. When Mattie caught up, she could see the horseshoe prints that had caught his attention. She took out her cell phone and took a few photos. Looked like more than one horse.

  “Good boy, Robo.” She ruffled the fur at his neck. “Let’s go. Let’s find a bad guy.”

  The scent track continued on down the game trail, and Mattie was certain these were the same people the sheriff now followed. It was impossible to tell whether or not they had murdered Tracy Lee Brown, but the lone fact that they were in this part of the forest was enough to raise suspicion.

  Robo had definitely tracked the killer or killers from Tracy Lee to the spot on the flooded hiking trail where he’d lost the scent in the water. Perhaps the fugitives had made it down that part of the trail but had been forced to head east lower down, where the flooding most likely began.

  Mattie followed the game trail into heavy timber, and pine boughs brushed her arms on both sides. Robo was bobbing along at a trot when he stopped suddenly, one front paw lifted, poised in midstride. He sniffed the foliage to his right, poked his nose into some brush that grew at the edge of the path, and then turned to look at Mattie while he sat.

  She took hold of his collar and knelt. “What did you find?”

  She parted the grass carefully to avoid touching whatever her dog had smelled. A brown pharmaceutical bottle lay at the base of the stems.

  “Good boy, Robo,” she murmured as she reached for a pair of latex gloves inside her slicker pocket. She shrugged off her pack and dug out an evidence bag from inside. She hoped there would be fingerprints. The glass surface would be perfect for them.

  As she picked up the bottle by its narrow stopper, she read the label: Rompun (xylazine) 100 mg/mL Injectable. A sedative, analgesic, and muscle relaxant for horses.

  Cole can tell me more about it, she thought as she dropped the bottle inside the bag and sealed it.

  After securing the evidence inside her pack, she gave Robo another treat and then moved on downhill, knowing that he was on track and would tell her if he found any other items inconsistent with the environmental norm.

  As always, she counted herself lucky to have such a remarkable partner. Not everyone could count on their partner to sniff out evidence. She smiled as she remembered the many times she’d struggled to connect with human law enforcement officers. Only after she’d been assigned Robo had she grown to fully trust someone else.

  After they broke free from the thick grove of pine, they came to a point where Mattie could overlook the draw. About a half mile below and coming out of a grove of aspen were two riders and a packhorse, and she recognized the familiar color patterns of Duke, Honey, and Mountaineer.

  She waved, but evidently Cole’s attention was focused on the trail, and he didn’t see her at first. But as she continued, he glanced up and waved back. It was strange that in this huge forest, Cole and she would find each other on the same game trail. Then she decided that maybe what was even stranger was that after all these years with both of them living in Timber Creek, they would finally meet and fall in love.

  Perhaps they were destined to be together from now on, throughout the rest of their lives. At any rate, that’s what she would choose to believe. She hoped Angie would come around to the idea of her dad developing a new relationship soon.

  “Let’s go meet Cole and Stella,” she told Robo, and started off down the trail. “We’ll have to leave this track for the sheriff and Glenna to follow.”

  FOURTEEN

  They reached Tracy Lee Brown’s crime scene by late afternoon. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the lowering sun didn’t have enough power to punch through the cloud cover. Mattie’s breath hung in the air as they placed Tracy Lee’s corpse into the body bag.

  Brody had found and photographed prints that looked like they came from the same boot. Flat sole with no tread, round toe, square heel—could be made by a riding boot. Cole had determined that there were two sets of horseshoe prints down at the bog on the game trail, but it looked like only one person had been at this crime scene.

  Before loading the corpse onto Mountaineer, the team huddled around the fire, warming fingers and toes to prepare for the long ride down the mountain. Brody threw another damp log into the flames, and it snapped and sizzled.

  Stella held her hands out to warm them above the fire. “CBI lab notified me that our first victim’s fingerprints match those you
took at the Grayson home, Mattie. We’ve tentatively identified him as Luke Ferguson, awaiting DNA confirmation. I reached his parents, and here’s a surprise—his mother said they weren’t even expecting him to come home last week.”

  That didn’t make sense. “Solomon Vaughn said Luke planned to take the bus home, but his parents weren’t expecting him?” Mattie asked.

  “That’s right. She said they hadn’t heard from Luke for weeks. And the last time he called, he sounded happy and content. She was surprised to learn that he planned to return home.”

  “But his mother has an item with his DNA?”

  “A hairbrush he’d left and a toothbrush, so once our lab gets that processed, the ID will be definite. But the print match lets us work under the assumption that our first victim is Luke Ferguson.”

  Guilt over Tracy Lee Brown’s death washed through Mattie again. “We’ll need to see if there’s a link between Luke and Tracy Lee. Why were they both killed here in the same area?”

  “Two different MOs.” Frowning, Brody nudged the partially lit log with the toe of his boot so that it settled deeper into the flames. “We can’t be certain these two homicides are linked.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Mattie said. “So far they’re linked only by proximity.”

  “Tracy Lee swore he had no idea who Luke was at the time I interviewed him,” Stella said. “But I’m afraid he probably knew more about his homicide than he would admit.”

  “Tracy Lee hid and spied on us yesterday afternoon,” Mattie said. “Do you think he could have observed Luke’s murder?”

  “I suppose that’s possible.” Stella fell silent, as if thinking before she spoke. “But how would Luke’s killer know that? Tracy Lee was with us the entire time we had him in custody.”

  Mattie wished she’d never left the man alone at his campsite. “Cole, when we were on the game trail before we met you, Robo found a bottle of Rompun in some brush at the edge of the path.”