Chapter 20
Twenty
Dan
I lasted about ten minutes after Wolff drove off.
Then I contacted JD and got him to come over to keep an eye on the progress at the house. I didn’t wait for him to get there but set out right away.
My first stop was the ranch to grab a two-way radio and pick up Will. There I ran into Sully, who went to grab me the radio while I saddled my horse. He didn’t seem surprised I was heading up the mountain.
I catch up with Wolff at the trailhead after letting Will stretch his legs up the dirt path.
“Why am I not surprised?”
Ignoring his comment, I nudge Will to fall in step behind Wolff’s horse as we veer off the trail. Halfway to the gorge, where vegetation is a little denser, we pass what I assume is Sloane’s ATV. Not long after, I hear voices.
In the clearing, we find Bo talking to a woman. The redhead has a harnessed dog sitting at her feet, so I assume this is the dog team Sloane has been working with. We dismount and secure the horses before we join the small group.
Wolff greets the woman with a chin lift, I guess they met already yesterday.
“Dan Blakely,” I introduce myself.
“Jillian Lederman.”
She has a nice smile and a firm handshake.
“And this is Emo.” She indicates her dog.
The animal wags his tail at the mention of his name.
“Can I touch him?”
“It’s a her,” she corrects me. “But yeah, go right ahead.”
I let her sniff my hand and scratch her head. That results in the dog rolling on her back with her legs up in the air, begging for a belly rub.
“Emo! Show a little modesty,” Jillian admonishes with a shake of her head.
As I’m crouched, doing the dog’s bidding, Bo urges the woman to tell us about the message from Sloane.
“What message?” I inquire, alerted by the mention of Sloane’s name.
“There’s another section like this—a rocky ridge—about half a mile up along the gorge,” Jillian responds. “Sloane wanted someone to check to see if there was closer access from the walking trail to that ridge. It’s where Emo found the remains, right underneath. Here, I’ll show you.”
She walks over to where a map is spread out on an old tree stump, and points at a short, narrower branch off the gorge.
“That’s where we located the remains, and the ridge I’m talking about is approximately here.”
She indicates a small strip on the south side of that branch.
“You can see the lighter rock on the satellite image,” Bo fills in.
Wolff walks over and glances at the map. “I’ll go check it out.”
“I’m coming with you,” I announce.
“If you find a more direct access point there, let me know. It may make more sense to move the pulley system right there. Especially if the ledge is closer to the trail,” Bo points out. “For now, we’ll stick here and wait for the sheriff’s guys to show up.”
The two of us are quickly mounted up and retrace our steps to the hiking trail, which we then follow farther up the mountain. At one point, Wolff lifts his hand and brings Judge, his mount, to a halt as he appears to be listening. I strain as well and pick up what sounds like a series of snaps. But when seconds later two deer dart across the trail from left to right, I realize that’s probably what we heard.
Wolff lowers his hand and clicks his tongue, urging Judge in motion. At the same time, I nudge Will’s flank with my heels, which is all he needs to follow the horse in front.
We haven’t gone far when the two-way radio on my hip lets out a loud squeal. It startles the horses and I have a hard time getting the normally laid-back Will under control.
“What the fuck was that?” Wolff wants to know.
“Some kind of feedback.”
Immediately after, Bo’s voice comes in over the radio.
“Yo, did you guys get that high squeak?”
“Yup. Was that you?” I fire back.
“Hell no,” is his response.
“Sloane, it’s Dan. Come in.” I wait a few beats for a response before I repeat it, “Sloane, are you there? Come in.”
“Jillian says if she’s in that secondary gorge, she’s not gonna hear you.”
Right.
“Ten-four.”
We continue on the trail for a bit when Wolff points out something to his left. It looks like a game trail—a naturally formed path wildlife travels along—but through the trees I can see a bit of a clearing.
“Is that it?”
If that’s the edge of the gorge, it literally is only a few hundred feet from the trail.
“One way to find out,” Wolff suggests, guiding Judge onto the narrow track.
When we get to the ridge, I dismount and, leaving Will standing at the edge of the trees, make my way to the edge to look down.
It’s not nearly as deep as our original entry point into the gorge. This strip of bare rock is significantly smaller than where we left Bo and the woman, but the fact it’s closer to the trail and less deep, makes this a better spot. There are certainly plenty of big trees that would allow us to rig up a descent/ascent system that could handle the heavier traffic. The only—but significant—drawback, is that we are right above where I can see remains poking out of the ferns.
What I don’t see is any sign of Sloane.
“She’s not down there,” I tell Wolff.
“Maybe she’s on her way back the other way?” he suggests.
I turn away from the edge and kick something on the ground that makes a metallic sound. Scanning the ground in front of me, my eyes catch on a small, shiny cylinder. I bend down and pick it up.
“A shell. Rifle.”
Immediately Wolff dismounts and walks over, his hand on his sidearm as he scans our surrounding.
“There’s another one. And there…”
He indicates two more shell casings, keeping his voice low as well. He bends down and pulls a tissue from his pocket, picking them up. I walk over and hand him the one I have. He folds it into the tissue with the others and tucks them in his pocket.
“Those sounds we heard…gunfire?” I guess.
“With a suppressor, could be,” he concedes, again looking into the trees surrounding us. “Doesn’t look like they hung around.”
I swing around and once more scan the gorge below, my heart beating in my throat, and anger burning in my gut.
I’m concentrating so hard, it takes me a second to register the sound of some kind of radio feedback coming from down below, but somewhere to my right.
Is that Sloane? Or did the shooter somehow make his way into the gorge? I don’t see a safe route down here and there aren’t any ropes.
Wolff points in the direction the noise came from.
“On foot. I’ll take the lead; you bring the horses.”
I shake my head as I walk up to Will to grab my rifle.
“I’ve got this, you take the horses,” I grind out, not giving him a chance to respond as I start walking.
I half-jog, following the ridge into the tree line, as I try to keep an eye on the gulley below, while at the same time staying aware of my surroundings. It’s tempting to just yell her name, but if this shooter is still hunting her, I don’t want to risk her answering me and giving away her position.
A cracking sound in the trees behind me has me whip my head around, but it’s just Wolff following with the horses. He’s about thirty yards away from the edge and maybe the same distance behind me. I notice he still has his gun in his hand.
A good prompt for me to stay alert.
I’m having a hard time not imagining Sloane lying down there somewhere, shot and dead or dying. Then I remind myself she’s not some clueless desk jockey, this woman is a seasoned law enforcement officer and probably better trained than I am to handle getting shot at.
Still, she bleeds red, just like everyone else.
I stop in my tracks when I hear that screeching sound again, the electronic feedback. Funny thing is, my own radio stayed silent both this time and the last. But this time it seems a lot closer. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Wolff’s eye and tap my ear. He nods in response. He heard it too and waves for me to move forward.
From what I can see, the gorge has narrowed quite substantially. I can clearly see the rim on the other side. Ahead, through the trees, I notice a small rock platform that appears to jut out a bit. That may be a good vantage point to look down the length of this narrow section.
Unsure of the stability of the slab of rock, I brace myself with one foot on the edge as I lean forward and look down.
Only to find a pair of terrified, upside-down, blue eyes staring back at me.
“Oh, Christ, Sloane.”
“Dan?”
“Right here, babe. Are you hurt?”
She hesitates a fraction of a second too long and, somehow, I know what comes out of her mouth next is gonna be a lie.
“I’m okay.”
Then I catch her wince when she tries to get to her feet. She’s okay, my ass. She’s clearly in pain.
I scan her for blood, but I can’t see anything.
“Don’t move,” I instruct her. “I’m gonna get you out.”
I wait for her to acknowledge, which she does with a nod after rapidly blinking her eyes a few times.
Wolff is already anchoring a climbing rope to the massive trunk of an old cedar when I turn to him. This is what I love about the team, we’re so well in tune, no words are necessary.
I walk up to Will and grab my harness and traction grips from the saddlebag. I fit the grips on my boots, but I don’t really need the harness, I can lower myself with just the rope. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna risk getting Sloane up the ridge without a harness though.
I manually adjust the straps, guessing at the size she needs, because I want to get her off that rock as quickly as possible.
As I turn back to the ledge, I hear the sound of an ATV engine starting up in the distance, but it seems to come from even farther up the mountain. I meet Wolff’s eyes and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. But when Wolff reaches for Judge’s reins, I shake my head.
“Sloane first.”
I don’t know if she’s injured and we can’t leave her sitting on that rock. I need Wolff to help me pull her up on the ridge.
Even from here, I can see the man’s jaw muscle clench. I’m sure as a former federal agent, it’s counter-intuitive for him to let a potential shooter go, but Sloane’s rescue has my priority. To his credit, he turns his back on his horse and joins me at the ledge.
“Sloane? I’m coming down. Don’t move, please.” I hand the harness to Wolff. “Hang on to that for a sec.”
When I lower myself, the only tricky part is the slight overhang, but once I get one foot braced against the wall below, I set the other down on the rock next to Sloane.
“Toss it to me?”
Once I have the harness in hand, I bend down and slip it over her boots. Then I turn my head to look at her.
“What hurts?”
“Right ankle,” she admits.
I move to her right side and hook her under her armpit so she can keep the weight off.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
When she’s on her feet, I quickly strap her into the harness and loop the rope through the guide I clipped onto it. Then I toss the remainder of the rope back up at Wolff.
“Turn to face the rock,” I tell Sloane. “I’m going to lift you, while Wolff pulls you up, okay? All you have to do is use your hands so you don’t get hung up on that overhang.”
Not long after that, Wolff pulls her up on the ledge and unclips her rope, tossing it back down to me. Ten seconds later I have her wrapped in my arms and kiss her hard. Wolff wanders off to take care of the rope, giving us a minute.
“Someone was shooting at me,” she says, when I have her safely in Will’s saddle in front of me.
“I know. We found the shells when we came looking for you.”
She twists in the saddle and tilts her head back to look at me.
“Tell me you got them?”
I point at Wolff who is on Judge in front of us. “Three of them. In a tissue in his pocket.”
She pulls her walkie-talkie from her pocket and hands it to me.
“Good. The asshole almost got me. Busted the radio instead.”
She points out the missing dial and the dent in the metal casing. Then she shows me a hole in her pocket.
I have to swallow down bile as I realize that may well have caused that high frequency squeal over the radio that spooked the horses. I band an arm around her and pull her tighter to me.
“I’m not letting you out of my fucking sight.”
She leans into me.
“That may be a problem. I still have a job to do.”