Chapter 7
SEVEN
Midnight Ridge
Cord’s initial search for Roman proved futile. Knowing he needed to search the site where the young girl went over the ridge, he called his SAR partner, Milo, who was on call, and asked him to organize a team to search the woods for Roman.
Then he headed back to his truck. Dr. Whitefeather and the ERT were just arriving, and he directed them to Ellie and the body. Lieutenant Williams assigned an investigator named Luke to go with him up to the ridge. “If you find something, let me know and we’ll join you,” Williams said.
Cord introduced himself to Luke. “We’ll drive up to the summit in my truck, then hike over to the jump site.”
Luke grabbed his kit, portable lights and flashlight from the ERT van along with a backpack containing other necessities and climbed in the passenger side.
The air felt chilly and dank as if another storm was brewing, so they needed to hurry.
He pressed the gas, then chugged from the parking lot onto the graveled road.
Darkness still bathed the mountains and without streetlights, he kept his speed in check. Wet switchbacks were dangerous.
“Man, this is high,” Luke muttered, his face paling as he glanced down the side of the curvy road at the drop-off.
“Don’t look down,” Cord said with a wry smile. He was accustomed to the roads but still careful.
When they reached the top, Cord parked and the two of them grabbed their gear, then Cord led the way to the ridge that overhung the stream. He wished to hell it wasn’t so damn dark, but they’d see what they found tonight and could come back in daylight if needed.
They both fell silent, the sound of thunder in the distance mingling with the coarse sound of their boots stepping over the rocky path. They fell into an easy pattern, Cord shining his flashlight uphill then to the right while Luke searched left.
“There are footprints here,” Luke pointed out. “Large, maybe a man’s.”
That might be helpful, although they had no idea how many people had hiked here in the last twenty-four hours.
Cord noted brush that had been crushed. Another black tennis shoe lay in the weeds, and he spotted drag marks. “Look at this,” Cord said as he snapped photographs. “I’m pretty sure this shoe was the girl’s. Found another one in the brush near the body.”
After surveying and photographing the area including the large footprints, Luke pulled an evidence bag from his pack and placed the shoe inside, then they continued.
A few feet farther and something shiny glinted in the dark against a patch of moss.
He stooped and realized it was a silver hoop earring. Did it belong to the dead girl?
Another few feet and Luke called, “Over here, McClain.”
Cord crossed to him and shined his light on the tree branch where Luke was pointing. “Strands of black hair,” Cord mumbled.
“What color is the girl’s hair?” Luke asked.
Cord gritted his teeth. “Black.”
“Looks like she may have tripped and her hair got caught,” Luke said. “The branch is broken, too. Maybe she grabbed it to steady herself.”
“That’s possible. Or she could have been running or fighting to escape an attacker,” Cord said, imagining the brutal scene.
As with the shoe and earring, they photographed it, then Luke added it to another evidence bag.
They followed the feet impressions to the rocky ledge. Bloody toeprints dotted one of the rocks as if she’d hesitated or been struggling not to fall.
A few feet over, an empty bottle of liquor lay in the weeds by a small boulder.
Cord had smelled liquor on the girl. Had she brought it with her for liquid courage before jumping? Or was she so inebriated she stumbled and fell?
The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end at the other possibility: had she been murdered?