Every Deadly Suspicion

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

H ANNA HAD HIKED UP a long steep incline of Buttonwillow Trail. She wiped sweat from her brow, pushing damp hair off her forehead. Even Big Red couldn’t make it up the narrow trail to this spot. The parched, dry air felt suffocating even as hot wind swirled around them.

Peering over the cliff, she could see the motionless ten-year-old boy lying perhaps thirty feet below. Braden had fallen into a gulch and landed on an outcropping. If he would’ve missed that, the next stop was two hundred feet down to the bottom.

The boy’s small dog paced back and forth next to his master. A good sign? If the dog escaped the fall unscathed, perhaps the boy’s injuries would be minor. Hanna hoped so. She refused to consider this mission simply a recovery.

Braden Buckley had to be alive.

“Is he dead?” Cassidy, Braden’s sixteen-year-old babysitter, stood watching Hanna. She’d been chewing on a thumbnail, crying and pacing the entire time Hanna had been there.

“No,” Hanna said, “I don’t think so.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have been closer to him. I—”

“You called us right away. That’s a good thing.”

Cassidy sniffled and went silent.

“You ready, boss?”

Hanna turned to Asa. He was her only sergeant and twenty years her senior. The volunteer EMTs looked like high school kids. They’d been waiting at the trailhead when she got here. Like most of the county’s first responders, the regular day-shift patrol unit who served the community of Dry Oaks was currently providing mutual aid for the Crest Fire, which raged close enough that she could see a plume of smoke in the distance.

And it was a deadly fire. Two California Department of Forestry personnel were killed when their vehicle overturned as they were trying to escape fast-moving flames.

This rescue was up to Hanna and Asa. Hanna was okay with that because she knew her strengths and limits and she trusted those she worked with and around. They were well trained and conscientious.

Now, if she could just get the request about Joe off her mind. It was Jared Hodges who barged in on her train of thought once again. He and Hanna had done a lot of climbing as teens, some as young adults, and he was a stickler for concentration.

“A lapse in concentration means a fall, and neither one of us will bounce.”

She took a deep breath, shook away Jared’s face, and recalled something the chief she’d replaced had taught her.

“Keep your world small.”

Retired military, Chief Barnes had served in combat, and while he never talked about specifics, he gave her plenty of tips on how to not just survive but thrive in stressful situations. Keeping your world small was one tip. It meant concentrating on the square you’re in, not puzzling about any squares down the road.

It was not unlike something she’d heard often in church: “Don’t use today’s strength worrying about tomorrow’s troubles.” She’d appreciated all the tips.

“I’m ready.” She’d quickly donned a climbing harness and was set to rappel to Braden.

The outcropping was large enough for her to reach the boy. She double-checked the anchor, set up her backup, and then put on her climbing helmet.

As she backed up to the ledge, Dave and Paulo, the EMTs, along with Asa moved forward to monitor her progress. None of them had ever done any climbing. So she prepared for the descent. A situation like this was why she went through extra training.

She unclipped her anchor and stepped off the ledge. Balancing with her legs, Hanna controlled her descent, gripping the rope in her strong hands. She touched the cliffside two times and then landed easily on the ledge a short distance from the boy’s feet. She willed herself not to look at what was below the ledge. If Braden was seriously hurt, she didn’t want to be distracted.

“Braden!” she called out. No response. She could see the rise and fall of his chest and her fear dissipated.

The little dog barked, expected for a Chihuahua mix. Hanna struggled to remember his name. Pancho? Giving herself some slack but staying in harness, she moved toward the boy. He lay face down, one arm bent unnaturally under him. There was some blood around his head, as well as some scrapes on his arms and legs.

Hanna took off her backpack to access her medical supplies. As she got closer to Braden, the dog’s frantic barking increased.

“Pancho, it’s okay, I’m here to help.”

The dog continued to bark as she knelt next to Braden, but Pancho backed away and didn’t threaten her.

Hanna carefully began her assessment, checking the boy’s feet and legs, then moved up his back. Everything felt normal. Cognizant that there might be a neck injury, she gently touched his shoulder. “Braden, it’s Chief Keyes, are you okay, buddy?”

The boy stirred; his face scrunched in pain. “Ahhh, ow, ow.”

His eye opened and he moved his feet. “It hurts.” He tried to press up with his good arm and Hanna stopped him.

“I know, honey, but I’ve got to get you out of here, and I don’t want you to move too much.” The boy whimpered but stayed still. Hanna grabbed her radio.

“He’s a little busted up but alive. I’ll be ready for the stretcher in a few minutes.”

“10-4, Chief,” came Asa’s response.

She pulled the neck immobilizer from her pack. “I’ve got to put this on you and roll you over slowly to see how badly you’re hurt.” She gently placed the immobilizer around his neck and fastened it.

He moaned.

Carefully, bracing him with her body, Hanna rolled him over in one smooth motion, ensuring that his neck and back were in line, exposing his cut-up face. He screamed once when the movement disturbed his badly broken arm, and Hanna winced. His pulse was fast but not overly so. His breathing was not labored.

Blood ran from a deep cut on his forehead down his face. He would probably need stitches. She opened a gauze pad and put pressure on the cut and then grabbed some tape.

“Ow, ow, it hurts.” Tears squeezed from his eyes.

“I want to stop the bleeding, Braden. Please, I know it hurts. Try to stay still. It might not hurt as much.”

“Where’s Pancho?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“He’s here.” Hanna looked for the dog. He had stopped barking and sat a few feet away, watching. “I’ve got to splint your arm to get you out of here. I’m sorry it hurts, bud, but it has to be done.”

Hanna needed to make the splint a bit smaller. She pulled her folding knife from her pocket and cut off what she didn’t need. The knife brought a smile to her face. It had been a gift from Jared so many years ago. The outline of Half Dome was etched in the handle.

A memory flashed—they’d spent a week in Yosemite at a rock-climbing school. Jared had been the most capable student in the class; he was a natural. He found the folding knife in a park gift store. He said, “Everyone should have one of these. You never know when you’ll need it.”

He’d been right. She had used it a lot over the years. Maybe one of these days she’d tell him how useful the gift had been.

Steeling herself against the boy’s cries and tears, Hanna splinted the arm and readied Braden for the rescue basket. He stopped crying once his arm was splinted, and Hanna bet it felt much better. He also seemed more alert. Hanna checked his eyes—both normal and reactive. She had him move his legs and his good arm, then squeeze her fingers with his good hand.

“How does everything else feel?”

“Okay.”

“Try to stay still. I’m going to get the basket that will take you up to the top. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

Hanna left the boy’s side and asked Asa to lower the rescue basket. Once down, she set it next to Braden and prepared it for him.

He quietly watched her arranging the straps. “Can you put Pancho in there with me?” Braden asked once she moved toward him.

“Afraid not, bud. I’ll bring him up after.”

“Promise? He’s my best friend.” The tears started again.

“I promise.” Hanna lifted him as carefully as she could into the basket. He grimaced once or twice but didn’t cry. Once she secured him in the basket, Asa and Paulo carefully pulled him back to the top. Dave and Paulo would have to carry the boy in the litter about a half mile to their ambulance.

For a few seconds she stood, looking up at where the boy had disappeared, sweat dripping off her face. Dry, hot summers in the Northern California foothills could be brutal. This was one of those summers.

She looked over at the dog and remembered her promise. Her radio crackled.

“You coming back up?” Asa asked.

“I have to get the dog.” She turned her attention to Pancho. The little dog eyed her warily.

Hanna knelt. “Here, Pancho, come here.” She moved toward him and he moved away. In her best baby-talk voice, Hanna tried to draw the dog to her. He was having none of it.

Her radio crackled. “Didn’t you bring the bacon strips?” Asa asked.

“Ha, ha. I may ask you to run and get some.”

“I might disobey. With you down there, aren’t I in command?”

“I might stay down here just long enough to be certain you’ve done all the paperwork.” Hanna backed up a step and turned, hoping that by ignoring the dog he’d settle down. She put her backpack back on and stepped toward the cliff wall. The dog was near; she could sense it. She bent and turned, grabbing for Pancho.

He squealed and bit her hand, but her gloves protected her. Still, the surprise made her stumble and fall backward.

Suddenly, there was nothing under her feet and she was falling.