Fall Hunter

by M K Dymock

  Daniel had given Blake a photo of Keen and himself, smiling on a recent hiking trip. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she’d looped her arm around her dad. He pulled the photo out. “You guys out mountain biking yesterday?”

  “Yeah,” the smaller of the two said.

  His blue-eyed companion leaned back, arms folded over his chest. “Why you asking?”

  This town attracted way too many kids who hadn’t learned yet the world didn’t answer to them. Blake ignored that and showed them the photo. “You see this girl?”

  The first guy squinted at the photo. “Yeah, that’s the girl who works at Dawson’s.”

  “Did you see her out mountain biking yesterday? She never came home.”

  The other guy looked up, his guard now dropped. “No. Are people looking? We know the trails good.”

  “Could you round up some names of anyone you know who was out on the trails yesterday?” Blake handed them his business card. “We’re hoping to find someone who saw her.” The two men took the card and commenced texting as they walked out the screen door to their bikes.

  A woman in her twenties came around from back, pulling her black hair back into a ponytail. “I heard you, plus Sol just called.” Mina came out for a gap year to work as a ski instructor a few years back after college, but never left. He questioned the wisdom of that decision since a lot of the town referred to her as that Chinese girl, even though she’d explained enough times she came from California with a Korean mother. Of course, being from California could be more of an objection than the Asian thing.

  “Sol called?”

  “I’m on SAR.” She yanked a pad of paper from under the register and started slashing at it with a marker. “It’s for the door since we’ll close up.” She followed him out the door, locking it behind them. “You going out to search?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I need to talk with some people first.”

  7

  Elizabeth jerked awake, confused as to where she was. Grace McKenzie, Blake’s wife and her closest friend, tapped on the window of her car. Painful memory replaced the confusion.

  She sat straight up only to be shoved back by the seat belt, which had apparently kept her upright when she drifted off. She turned the key and rolled down the window. “Any news?”

  “No.” Grace eyed her with a look of pity. “You okay?” Her gaze took in the dented hood of Elizabeth’s car.

  “Yeah.” Elizabeth shook her head to dispel the fuzziness, but the movement aggravated a pulsing headache. Darkness still claimed the morning, but a creeping gray dawn was all she needed to see to know she’d failed her daughter. How could she sleep with Keen out there needing her mother?

  Grace came around to the passenger side and climbed in beside her.

  “What’s going on now?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Blake and Sol are meeting Daniel and search the Pines as soon as the light is strong enough. It’s early yet; she’s probably walking up a trail now.” Grace reached out and squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder. “We’ll barbecue tonight and laugh about how worried we all were.”

  Elizabeth wanted to believe her friend, but something in her gut wouldn’t let her. Across the two-lane highway and below them, the sound of the river ricocheted off the sharp rocks, and she thought about all the other dangers between here and home. Keen had been raised in a world to face these dangers head-on, but never alone.

  “Come on,” Grace said. “I’ll drive you up to the trailhead. A tow can come back for your car.”

  Elizabeth settled into the leather seat in Grace’s Escalade and took the bag of trail mix her friend offered. “I know you don’t want to eat, but you will because Keenley needs you to.”

  Grace was the woman Elizabeth pretended to be. They’d known each other since, at sixteen, Grace had shown up to work at the store part-time. Even then the younger woman carried herself with a confidence and ease Elizabeth envied. It wasn’t long before Grace babysat five-year-old Keen, who, though never having seen a Disney movie, asked if her new sitter with the long red hair was a princess. Wonder Woman was more like it with Grace’s height and strength.

  Today that red hair lacked its usual style and was slicked back into a ponytail. She wore hiking clothes and a shirt that looked as though it had been pulled from a laundry pile. Grace could say with all confidence Keen was fine, but her appearance did more to worry Elizabeth than any words could ease her.

  Elizabeth chewed on the nuts in the trail mix, forcing them down. “How did you find me?”

  “I got a few calls from your neighbors.”

  “Yeah, I freaked out on them. Guess they’re a little mad.”

  “Worried is the word I’d use.” Grace pulled out onto the road. A truck blared its horn for coming out in front of him. She waved as it passed on the double yellow. “I know you always have a hard time believing it, but the people here love your family. They’ve watched Keenley grow up. You’re not alone in this.”

  “You’re right,” Elizabeth whispered. “I’m just so scared. Keen’s out there, and I’m so powerless …”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Look for Keen.”

  Grace took her home, where they loaded bikes onto the back of her car. Grace called for reinforcements. When they pulled out to head down the canyon, another car with women and bikes pulled out behind them.

  Each year the town sponsored a 100-mile bike race called Hell to Heaven, with the last stretch going straight up the Gorge highway to town. Four women now pedaled their way through Hell. Elizabeth pushed each pedal in a struggle to propel her bike even a few feet up the steep canyon. The searchers were focusing their attentions on the trails running through the forests opposite the Gorge. She wanted to ride up this stretch in case her daughter made it all the way down. A car would go too fast to really search—a bike it was.

  On a mid-morning weekday, the roads were quiet and few cars passed them. When the occasional one did, the passing breeze shuddered her bike. The other women were a few hundred yards ahead with Grace leading the pack, a situation unfamiliar to Elizabeth. She had competed in four races on this road but was only now alert to every possible danger. What if a car hit Keen, knocking her over the edge, and the person didn’t stop? What if she fell or passed out? What if …

  “Stop,” she said out loud. Spiraling wouldn’t bring Keen home.

  About a quarter mile from the top, a Mustang went by with the driver hooting and hollering at her. She returned his affection with a finger.

  It didn’t take long to find a biker who’d spotted Keen the afternoon before. They hadn’t spoken as they’d passed each other at the top of the trailhead, but Blake was apt to trust a young man’s memory of a blonde, college-age girl.

  Blake made what he suspected would be the first of several drives to the Pines trailhead at the top of the Gorge. Searchers would start at the top of the canyon and work their way down. By the time he made it to the parking lot trailhead, its ten or so parking spaces had filled and cars parked in the long yellow grass along the highway. He followed suit.

  As he walked up, Mina from the coffee shop grappled with a few tables from the back of a truck. She’d changed out of the summer dress she wore earlier to hiking boots and slacks, her black hair stuffed under a bandana. He took a few steps to help her, but Clint Gallagher, his deputy, rushed up out of nowhere and lifted the tables down to her. Blake was too far away to hear their conversation, but there was no mistaking Mina’s grateful smile.

  Clint had grown up in this town. His parents had a small farm that barely supported them, so Clint had hired on to the department after he graduated from the university’s extension office. With his sandy curly hair and freckles, he had the “gosh, ma’am” sort of looks that made the women smile, and being local meant he had the residents’ automatic trust.

  Mina sorted the gear of the SAR team, which included radios and brightly colored vests for each volunteer. Last thing anyone wanted was someone else t
o disappear. Most of the searching would be concentrated on the highway in the Gorge and the roads around the Dawsons’ home, leaving the trails to SAR.

  About twenty people showed up, and beyond Daniel, nobody seemed too anxious. Worried, yes, but not anxious. Keen hadn’t yet been missing a full day and was experienced in the mountains. Odds were still on her having a broken-down bike or being injured enough she couldn’t walk out in a hurry—both options common enough in the outdoor world. The dangers were real enough, however, not to ignore.

  Sol led the searchers down the trail along with Daniel. They would split up into the honeycomb that was the Pines.

  Blake and Clint stood only a few feet away, but the steepness of the trail and thickness of the aspens swallowed the group. “Why aren’t we going?” Clint asked as the last searcher disappeared down the trail.

  “If she’s out there, Sol will find her.”

  “What do you mean, if?”

  “The boy I talked to this morning saw her a half mile away from the trailhead. We don’t know for sure she went down; could’ve changed her mind. If she did go down, there are miles of highway roads on the way back.” Blake pulled out his phone and thumbed to his email.

  “Meaning we don’t know where she is,” Clint finished his thought. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ve got a list of the neighbors and friends. Look through it and see if anyone saw her yesterday or even the day before.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Blake shrugged. “I’m thinking today will tell us a lot.”

  8

  Tuesday Early Afternoon

  Keenley’s tracks didn’t require an expert to follow. She had fled in a jagged line with little thought of concealment.

  While it was easy enough to find her tracks, the question became how much distance had she crossed during the morning. A chase would take far too long, but what if she could be drawn out?

  Why chase someone when it would be so much easier if they came to you? Keenley would need help; she’d be looking for rescue.

  A mile, five miles? Keen lost all sense of distance as the scenery around her never changed—low rocky hills covered in brush and a few juniper and cedar trees. The only tracks she’d found had been jackrabbit and cattle. To the west rose a barren range of hills half the size of the Rockies, which towered in the far distant east. Between the two stretched a barren and inhospitable landscape measured in hundreds of square miles and called the west desert by the local residents.

  There had to be a road in, considering the SUV that hauled her in, but darned if she could find it. Picking a direction and walking didn’t seem like the best idea; she wouldn’t know if she trekked closer to help or farther away.

  She picked a small hill barren at the top like a monk’s head. Using it as a reference point, she circled it, making larger circles with each pass. This way she might stumble upon a road or something beyond the nothingness.

  Keen squinted into the harsh afternoon sun at the horizon for any sign of where she’d come from. A slight movement to the north caught her attention. She blinked, but it disappeared, leaving her to question her eyesight. Whatever she saw, it had to be more than a few hundred yards away. It could be a bird for all she knew. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned closer, as if a few inches could cover the distance.

  A puff of dust rose above the hills.

  She sucked in her breath as the puff grew into a long line. That was no dirt devil. The brown cloud disappeared behind a ridge and Keen ran. Her thirst, exhaustion, and hunger were abandoned in the dirt as she chased what might be considered hope.

  She crested a small hill with her lungs burning. Hands on her knees, she scanned the horizon for a sign of the puff. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.” After a moment that aged her, the dirt rose again. This time moving at a slower speed. Mustering what had to be her last leg, she took off again.

  Maybe two or three hundred yards away, an old blue and white truck came out of the trees, moving at a slow rate across a far ridge. It took a right and disappeared behind a ridge. Keen ran toward what might be her best chance to get out.

  After a fruitless morning, Blake, Sol, Daniel, and Elizabeth sat down at a folding table set up in the parking lot of the Pines. The trails mostly likely taken by Keen had been scoured, and she hadn’t walked out with a busted bike or twisted ankle. The hopes of dawn and an easy rescue were dashed in the harsh afternoon light.

  Elizabeth kept telling herself Keen was strong and capable; she knew what to do in the outdoors if everything went wrong. Telling herself to calm down was like telling a forest fire to burn out.

  Sol pulled out his map of the area, a highlighter, and a marker. “You said she would stay to the green trails.”

  “Yeah,” Daniel said. “She’d only gone mountain biking a few times this summer. I took her when she was little …” He swallowed and sighed. “… but she crashed a few times and didn’t want to go again.”

  Elizabeth gripped his arm. “Wasn’t until Jacob suggested it that she tried it again. Do anything for that stupid boy.”

  Sol pulled out the marker and highlighted a few trails. “We’ve already gone down all the green trails. We’ll go down them again but spread out into the trees.” He drew a line around a cluster of trails and labeled it with a number one.

  “What’s that for?” Daniel asked.

  “We rate the probability of where a missing person could be. Then we search each trail in order of its rating from most likely to least likely.” Sol continued highlighting areas. He rated the highway between the trails and the Dawsons’ home as two; searchers were combing that one as they spoke.

  “I’ve got my deputy going door to door in the neighborhood to find out if anyone saw her biking yesterday,” Blake said. “I’ll be out with him after we’re done here.” He turned to Elizabeth. “You’re sure she wore a yellow shirt?”

  “Yeah, I found her other bike jerseys in her luggage.” Elizabeth had given them a description of Keen’s clothing the night before. Daniel stood to pace behind her. Even on normal days he couldn’t sit still for long. “I can’t find her bike shoes, so I’m fairly sure she’s wearing those and not her running shoes.”

  Daniel paused. “It would’ve been difficult to wear regular shoes on that bike. The clip pedals are too small for a shoe to grip.”

  Sol glanced up from the map where he’d continued his notes. “That’ll make her tread more unique, although a lot of bikers use them.”

  Daniel walked around the table to stare over Sol’s shoulder at the map. “What does ROW mean?”

  On the edge of the map, Sol had written with a dark red marker ROW. “Rest of the World. Means it’s the place she’s least likely to be, but we don’t rule it out.”

  Blake ran his finger over the map, tracing Sol’s outlines. “That’s the west desert. It’s a good twenty miles from here. No way she made it that far on a mountain bike in the time she had.”

  “We don’t cross anything off,” Sol said, his tone not allowing for argument. “If we don’t know where she is, we don’t know where she isn’t.”

  Elizabeth stared at a map the size of a small state. Some of the trees and bushes grew so thick in these mountains, a person could disappear from sight ten feet away. Daniel placed his hands on her shoulder as if sensing her thoughts.

  Where was Keen?

  9

  Oxygen burned her lungs as Keen sprinted toward the truck. She crested the ridge, but the tall, gnarled juniper trees concealed the truck from view. A flash through the trees of sun on the mirror gave a clue and she continued the pursuit. Just hold out a bit longer and she could ride out of this nightmare and go home.

  The diesel engine chugged in the distance, so close. A break in the trees made it so she could see her salvation or her damnation: a truck about fifty yards away. Her kidnapper had driven an SUV; this had to be someone else. A small crane balanced in the truck bed, the kind used by ranchers to hoist an animal for butcheri
ng. In the back, a man wearing a straw cowboy hat picked up a bale of hay. Could he be a rancher supplementing the cattle who grazed here? After dropping one bale, he jumped over the side of the truck and into the cab.

  “No!” she screamed, but the truck pulled ahead.

  She ran. The rocks underneath her foot caught the clip of her bike shoe, sending her sprawling. She caught herself with her hands and found her feet, ignoring the sting of the fresh scrapes across her palms.

  The truck came to another stop, and the driver jumped out and walked back to the bed to unload another bale. She yelled out but he stayed bent over the bale, slashing at the twine holding it together.

  So close. As Keen took a few steps out of the trees into the clearing where the truck stood, she understood why he couldn’t hear her. A radio cranked up competed with the rumblings of the diesel engine. She would be home in a few hours with her parents; Jacob would come visit, so relieved she returned safely.

  “Hey!” she yelled. The music overpowered the engine, playing the Beatles. Keen’s next words sputtered. The same music had played during each excruciating moment of the previous night’s car ride. Keen skidded to a stop. It was a different vehicle from what had taken her. The music could be a coincidence.

  The man turned, his face hidden by the shadow of the brim. Keen ran, hadn’t made a conscious decision but went by instinct. Juniper branches grabbed at her clothing, one tearing across her face, but she didn’t stop. At least this time she fled in the light.

  Behind her, footsteps pounded in the dirt. This time she didn’t have the darkness to conceal her.