by Jeff Shelby
I glanced down toward the bottom of the canyon again, wondering where Aaron was, and why he’d grown marijuana here—if he’d grown it—and where those gunshots had come from—if they were gunshots—and who had fired them.
I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to any of those questions.
THIRTEEN
There were more growing areas than I'd noticed the first time down.
We were scattered again on the hillside, but still within a range where we could see one another. We'd been looking for a few hours now, but with the same luck. Elizabeth was focused, but Tim was starting to look like he just wanted to be done. His face was permanently red, his t-shirt plastered to his back, pit stains spreading to the front of his shirt. His steps were slow, deliberate, but I didn’t think it was because he was carefully looking for his friend. He was just beat. And I was, too. The rain had never materialized, and the incessant heat and unrelenting sun had sapped my energy, my strength. It had also fueled my anger toward the boy we were looking for. Part of me hoped he was lying injured somewhere in the canyon so that a sympathy gene might kick in and douse the flames of fury boiling inside of me. But I wasn’t hopeful.
I was thinking about all of that when the next row of plants popped up from the desert floor, planted carefully beneath a thick row of round, dry bushes. Junipers, maybe. The row extended nearly twenty yards and when I bent down to look at it, I saw a second identical row hidden just behind it.
Judging by their color and growth, they weren't new, and they were definitely receiving regular attention. They were evenly spaced, with just enough room to mature. If they weren't in a perfect line, my eye couldn't tell.
I thought back to the stories I’d read in the news over the years, about the government finding illegal grow operations in remote areas, where people had just taken over the land and started planting. With the legalization of marijuana in several states, it was a drug that was moving into a grayer area of acceptability, and people were trying to capitalize both on the legality and people’s willingness to partake. The government, particularly in states where it had yet to gain legal acceptance, had a different view and were still fighting the same fight they'd been fighting for years. Which meant people would still do what they were doing here in the canyon.
We scoured the terrain until dusk started to settle in, but came up empty. The shadows were longer on the canyon face now, the sun finally losing a little of its strength, and both my eyes and back were tired. If Aaron was still in the area, he wasn't where we were looking. I waved Elizabeth and Tim back up the hill. I expected her to object despite her promise, but she didn't say anything, instead turning and heading back to our meeting point.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, taking a deep breath. She was a little winded from the hike back up, which surprised me. She’d been running regularly over the summer, trying to stay in shape for cross-country, which would start in the fall. The heat and incline had apparently taken a toll on her. And, I thought, the fact that we hadn’t found any sign of Aaron was probably weighing heavily on her, too.
“I'll call it in to the sheriff's department,” I said. “I'll have them pull the report Tim already called in and I'll explain that we've been looking and that he still hasn't returned. We might be able to get them to move a little quicker. No guarantees. I have no idea how they'll respond. I don't have a lot of experience with searches like this.”
The corners of her mouth dove downward and I could see her eyes well with tears.
“And we'll leave the campsite set up,” I said. “There's no reason for us to take it down. If he does come back, the tent will be there and so will the cooler. He'll be okay overnight.” I looked at Tim. “You can grab your stuff, but we'll leave his things there and zip it up in the tent.”
Tim nodded.
“And then we're just going home?” Elizabeth asked.
“I'm not sure what else to do,” I said. “I really don't. If you have ideas, I'll listen.”
She looked down toward the bottom of the canyon, her top lip tucked into her bottom lip. I knew she was worried, and she was right to be. But we’d done what we could do—more, even, than what I’d wanted to do—and I was ready to get my daughter home. I was still angry with Aaron and what I thought he might be doing out here, but I didn’t wish him any harm. I wanted him to be safely found, as much for his sake as for Elizabeth’s. But my skills—whatever those were—were in interviewing and putting missing pieces together to find people. I wasn't an outdoorsman who could track or navigate the land. If we continued to look as it got dark, we were putting ourselves at risk, and I wasn't willing to do that. No first aid kit, no food and we’d more or less depleted the water bottles we’d brought from the campsite. There were mountain lions and poisonous snakes in the brush, and we weren’t equipped for protecting ourselves or trekking through the canyons for long periods of time. And that didn’t even take into consideration the sounds we’d heard earlier. There had been nothing else since that initial blast of sound, which led me to believe it had been a one-off, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. We’d done what we could.
“I don't have any,” Elizabeth said.
I’d forgotten what I’d asked her. “Any what?”
“Any ideas,” she said softly. A tear slid down her cheek, leaving a trail of dirt, a visual reminder of all the dust we’d kicked up during our hours of searching.
“So let's head up to the top,” I said. I wasn’t going to deny the relief I felt upon hearing her words. “We'll secure the campsite, then get to the cars, and I'll call in to the sheriff's office. That is honestly the best thing we can do right now.”
She nodded slowly. “Alright.”
We worked our way back up the hill, the terrain feeling steeper after having been walking for the better part of the day. My legs were tired and we moved slower, our feet slipping a little on the loose, dusty gravel. We finally got to the site and we gathered up the few things scattered around the tent, tossing them inside. Tim zipped down the front and we wheeled the cooler next to the tent.
“Can we leave a note?” Elizabeth asked. “Just so he knows we were here.”
“Sure,” I said. I patted my pockets, knowing they were empty. “You have anything to write on or with?”
She shook her head.
“I do,” Tim said, unzipping the front pocket of his nylon backpack. He pulled out a small blue notebook with a pen stuck in the metal spiral binding and handed it to her.
Elizabeth ripped out a piece of paper, scribbled something on it, then handed the pen and notebook back to Tim. She folded the paper up, unzipped the tent, and laid it just inside the opening. She pulled the zipper back down and stood.
“Okay,” she said, looking around. “I guess that's it.”
I touched her elbow. “I'll call as soon as we get back to the car where we have a signal. I promise.”
She shrugged, a defeated, sad shrug, and started up the hill. Tim fell in behind her and I brought up the rear. The guilt was back and I wanted to somehow figure out a way to fix it, to fix everything, so I wouldn’t have to see the slump of her shoulders or feel the weight of her steps and know that I was partially responsible for it.
I went over the list of things I could do to try to make things better. I’d call the sheriff, immediately. And I’d call the park rangers at the state campground, too. Maybe they’d know something. I could call Lorenzo, see if he had any ideas. Maybe he’d dealt with similar cases, would have some suggestions. I would do what I could. For Elizabeth.
We'd taken maybe ten steps when the unmistakable sound of the slide action on a gun stopped me in my tracks, the sound echoing across the space around us.
Elizabeth and Tim froze, too.
“Nobody moves,” a voice said from the direction of the gun. “Not even a little.”
FOURTEEN
“Hands on your heads,” the voice said. “Fingers laced.”
I could see the indecision on both Elizabeth and Tim
’s faces.
“Do it,” I said quietly.
They both lifted their arms and did as we were instructed.
“Now turn toward me. Half a step at a time.”
I shuffled my feet and turned in a counter-clockwise direction.
The woman holding the gun was shorter than me, maybe five-foot-eight. Long, dark-red hair that was pulled back tightly from her face, disappearing behind her. She wore a tight black tank top, exposing arms strong enough to aim the assault-style rifle at us, and tan cargo pants over dirty work boots. Mirrored sunglasses were pushed up on top of the red hair and her gray eyes were fixed on me. Her expression was hard, unflinching and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she’d been a soldier at some point during her life.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, the gun aimed squarely at my chest.
“Looking for a friend,” I said. I tried not to stare at the barrel of the gun, the black hole that yawned in front of me. “That's it.”
The woman glanced at Tim and Elizabeth, then back to me. “Where is he?” she demanded.
“Our friend?” I asked. She didn’t respond. “We don't know where he is. That's why we were looking for him.”
She shifted her eyes to the tent. “This is your campsite?”
I tilted my head in Tim's direction, being careful not to make any sudden moves. “His. They were camping. His friend went for a hike and didn't come back. We came to help look for him. And we're leaving now.”
She glanced at Tim and Elizabeth again, then returned her gaze to me. “How long have you been here?”
“They've been here since yesterday,” I answered. “We just got here earlier this morning. And we are leaving.” I paused. “We are not a threat to anyone or anything here in the canyon. We just want to go.”
She shifted her weight from her right foot to her left, but held the gun steady. She looked at Tim. “What were you doing here?”
“Just camping,” Tim said, his voice cracking. His face was ashen, and he looked ready to pee his pants. “My friend asked me to come. I've never even been here.”
She eyed Elizabeth and shifted the gun slightly in her direction and my heart leaped into my throat.
“She's my daughter,” I said. “She came with me today. And, look, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here or what you think we've done, but we don't want any part of anything. We're leaving.”
“Who are you?” Elizabeth asked.
I tried not to wince. I'd purposely avoided asking that exact question because whoever the woman was, the less we knew about her, the better off we were. If we didn't have details, we weren't a threat to her.
“We did notify the sheriff's department about our friend,” I said before the woman had a chance to answer, hoping this information might dissuade her from doing anything rash or stupid. “Not sure what their response status is.”
She let her gaze settle on me. Maybe trying to determine if I was lying or what my end game was.
I stared back, careful to not look hostile or meek. An equal. A non-threat.
“Who is your friend?” she asked Elizabeth.
I answered for her. “Just a classmate of theirs. And my arms are getting tired. Can I bring them down?”
“No,” she said. “Classmate? College?”
“High school,” I said. “They're all in high school.”
I was trying to convince her that what she was doing—holding us at gunpoint—was a bad idea. The more reasons I gave her to let us go, the more I hoped that she'd consider them.
She looked at Tim. “Where did he go?”
“I don't know,” Tim stuttered. “I was in the tent when he left. I don't even know what direction he went. He said he was going for a hike last night. That was the last time I saw him.”
She looked at me as if wanting confirmation.
I nodded.
The gun stayed aimed at my chest.
“We aren't armed,” I said. “You can check. We aren't even taking anything with us except for a bag. We're leaving the tent over there in case he comes back. All I want to do is get these kids out of here before we all get lost.”
She shifted her weight again, but it was more of a repositioning than because she was tired. She knew how to handle the gun, and I didn't see any way I could get to her and disarm her before she put a giant hole in me. Whoever she was, she knew what she was doing.
“How did you get here?” she asked.
“We drove,” I said and lifted my chin in the direction of the hill. “My car is parked next to his. Only two up there in the lot at the top. A little over a mile up there off the highway. It's a fifteen-minute walk, ten if we jog. We can be gone pretty quickly.”
She was thinking.
“Keys are in the pocket of my shorts,” I said. “Right side. If you want to check.”
It wasn't a ploy to bring her closer. I wanted her to know that I genuinely wanted to get the hell out of there. I didn't want anything to do with her.
She shifted her gaze to Tim. “Take the bag off your shoulders and leave it.”
He hesitated. “But it's got my stuff in it.”
For the first time, she moved the gun fully off of me and pointed it at him. “I won't ask again.”
“Do it,” I ordered. “Now. Don't be dumb.”
Tim nervously shrugged the bag off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground, quick to get his hands back on top of his head.
“There’s no reason to keep us,” I said. “Let us go and we're out of here.”
“Cell phones,” she said, ignoring me. “I want those, too. The girl first.”
“My phone?” Elizabeth said. “I can't. It's—”
“Do it,” I said, cutting her off. “Right now. Drop it to the ground.”
The woman rotated the gun back to me but kept her eyes on Elizabeth as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She let it fall from her fingers, watching as the case hit the dirt, a cloud of dust billowing up like a miniature nuclear explosion.
“Now you,” the woman said to Tim.
“It's…it’s in the backpack.”
She looked at me, those gray eyes as cold and cool as liquid metal.
“Right front pocket,” I told her, inclining my head. “Same as the keys. I'll use my right hand.”
She kept her eyes and the gun steady.
I inched my hand into my pocket, pulled it out, held it up for her to see, then bent slowly to lay it on the ground. I stood back up and put my hand back on top of my head.
“Don't stop for anything,” she said, her voice as cold as her expression. “Get up the hill, get in your cars, and leave.”
I nodded, trying to hide the relief I was feeling. “Absolutely,” I said, lowering my hands. Elizabeth and Tim were still frozen in place.
“Jillian!” a male voice called out. “Where you at?”
Something flashed through her eyes and I knew the deal was changing.
“Shit.”
I was the one who thought this, but the red-headed woman holding the gun was the one who whispered it.
And I knew then that we weren't going anywhere.
FIFTEEN
The footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me and I forced myself not to whip my head around to take a look.
“Jillian,” the voice said, coming up on my left, finally coming into view. “What the fuck do we have here?”
He was about her height, with broad shoulders and a shaved, wide head. His eyes were in a permanent squint and thick coarse stubble lined his cheeks and chin, a sharp contrast to his smooth pate. He wore a gray T-shirt with sweat stains under the arms and jeans that had seen better days. Dusty, steel-toed black boots covered his feet. Not exactly hiking apparel. He too had a rifle in his hands, similar to the one the woman—Jillian—had been pointing at us. This guy didn't look as competent with the gun as the woman did, but with that kind of weapon, he didn't need to be. He would just need to aim and pull the trigger.
“Just found them up here,” she said. “Not what we need right now and they've got nothing for us.”
He squinted at me, then at Tim and Elizabeth. “Friends of our friend?”
Jillian hesitated, making brief eye contact with me before nodding. “Think so.”
“We're leaving,” I said. “We were—”
“Shut up,” she said, an edge to her voice that had been missing before. “I told you before to shut up.”
“Pat 'em down yet?” the guy asked.
The woman shook her head. “No. Just had them put their phones on the ground.”
He looked down, then walked over and collected our phones. He came back to me and patted me down. He wasn't a professional but he checked the right places.
He pulled my wallet out and flipped it open. “Joseph Tyler. What exactly are you doing here, Mr. Tyler?”
Something again flashed through the woman's eyes but I couldn't place it. This was not going the way she wanted it to go.
“I just told her,” I said to him. “A friend of theirs went missing. They came up to go camping for the weekend and he disappeared.” I nodded at Tim, deliberately not using anyone's name. “He called my daughter, we came up to see if we could help find him. We've been looking all day but haven’t found anything. We were headed back to our cars to leave when we ran into her.” I purposely avoided using the woman’s name, too. The less we knew, the better.
He folded up my wallet and stuck it into his own pocket, then moved his gaze to Tim. “Camping, huh? You buddies with that douchebag Aaron?”
Tim seemed surprised at hearing Aaron's name. He swallowed a couple of times, probably trying to find his voice. “Uh, yeah. That's who I came camping with.”
“How do you know Aaron?” Elizabeth asked.
It was a question I wanted answered, too, but it wasn’t one any of us should be asking. I tried to shoot her a warning look but she wasn’t looking at me.
The guy ignored her and focused on Tim. “Come on, bro. You weren't camping and we both know it.”