Chapter Thirteen
When Mira arrived the next morning, Shayla was waiting in front of her house, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, her hair pulled back and wrapped in a scarf.
Her eyes were a little puffy, but she offered a wan smile and a travel mug of coffee as she slid into the passenger seat of Mira’s car. “You still have the rental,” she said.
“Yes. I’m waiting on the insurance check, then I’ll have to get something new. Or something different, at least. I can’t afford new.”
“The sheriff took Mitch’s SUV.” She looked away and sipped her coffee.
“I thought we’d try the Gold Lake Trail,” Mira said, determined to turn the conversation away from Mitch and his troubles. “The scenery up there is spectacular and the weather today is perfect.”
Shayla said nothing. Mira made a few other attempts at conversation as they drove, remarking on a new house being built, and asking Shayla what trails she had hiked in the area.
But her friend answered in monosyllables.
By the time they arrived at the trailhead, Mira was beginning to think this had been a bad idea.
Shayla didn’t want to be distracted or cheered up. Maybe Mira was making things worse.
Two other cars were parked at the trailhead—a camper van and a red pickup. Mira pulled her daypack from the back seat and settled a sun hat on her head while Shayla stood beside the car, finishing her coffee. “Are you ready?” Mira asked. She half expected Shayla to say she had changed her mind.
“Sure,” Shayla said, and set her coffee mug inside the car. “Let’s go.”
The first section of the trail was steep, and they were both breathing hard within ten minutes. Shayla kept up and made no complaint. Mira focused on the scenery, admiring the sunlight on the slopes and trying to clear her mind.
“Let’s stop a minute,” Shayla said after the first half hour.
They halted and Mira offered Shayla a water bottle. She drank, and when she returned the bottle, offered a smile and an apology. “I’m sorry I’m such a grump. This really was a good idea. I needed to get out of the house.”
“I hope it helps,” Mira said.
“I’m a worrier,” Shayla said. “It’s just the way I am. I’m worried about Mitch, and I’m worried about his dad, too. From what Mitch has said, he does pretty much everything for Ed. He does all the shopping and cooking, and takes him places.”
“His dad doesn’t drive?” Mira asked.
“He does, some. He has an old Jeep he drives around town. But he uses a walker. I’m not really sure what’s wrong with him, but he apparently can’t do a lot of things.”
“How old is he?” Mira thought of her own father, still very active. She couldn’t remember the last time he had even had a cold.
“I’m not sure. Early sixties? But I gather he led a hard life.
I think he may have been homeless when Mitch took him in.
Which is amazing when you think that Ed wasn’t a part of his life growing up.
Mitch told me his mom and dad were never married and he only saw Ed a few times when he was a kid.
Which goes to show what a sweet, generous guy Mitch is, to take care of the dad who never took care of him. ”
“Maybe tomorrow you can find out more,” Mira said. “Maybe Mitch will be able to get out on bail.”
Shayla nodded, lips pressed tightly together. She breathed in deeply and looked around them. “Did you do much hiking in Santa Fe?” she asked.
“Oh sure.” She stowed her water bottle and they set out again. Mira talked about the landscape around Santa Fe, and growing up in a large, close-knit family. “Do you miss it?” Shayla asked.
“I miss my family sometimes, but it was good for me to get away. To try new things.”
“Were your parents upset when you decided to move here?”
“They were sad to see me go, but I was the last to leave home. My brothers are scattered all over the country. Though I know they’d like it if I moved back. And maybe one day I will, but for now, I’m happy to be here.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Shayla said. “Thanks again for getting me out here this morning.”
The trail flattened out, making talking easier, and they exchanged stories of their childhoods, talked about places they had visited on vacation, and places they hoped to see one day. The sadness didn’t leave Shayla’s eyes, but she seemed less burdened than she had when they had set out.
The trail ended at an overlook, where they admired the view and shared a bag of trail mix, then began to retrace their steps to the parking area. “Let’s drive over to Paradise and have lunch,” Shayla said. “There’s a cute little tearoom there I haven’t visited in years.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mira said. “I haven’t driven over there yet, but I’ve been wanting to see it.”
“It’s a really cute little town. Very Victorian. And they have some great shops. We’ll have to check them out.”
Engrossed in conversation, they didn’t see the dark figure emerge from beside the trail until it collided with Mira.
Shayla’s screams mingled with Mira’s cry of pain as she was slammed to the ground and blinding pain shot through her.
Her vision blurred and she was sure she would be sick, then another wave of pain washed over her as her attacker began to pummel her.
She stared up at a black ski mask, unable to make out any features past the narrow slits for eyes, nose and mouth.
The man—she was sure it was a man—pummeled her with gloved fists, but remained absolutely silent.
“Stop it! Get off of her!” Shayla shouted.
Her attacker grunted and shied away as a rock hit him in the shoulder.
Shayla picked up another, larger rock and held it over her head.
The man abandoned Mira and launched himself at her.
Mira tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness pinned her to the ground.
She tasted blood and every part of her ached.
She tried to call for help, but only managed a low moan.
Then everything was silent. Mira thought she must have lost consciousness, because the next thing she remembered was someone shaking her. She opened her eyes and looked into Shayla’s frightened face. “Hang on,” Shayla said. “Help is coming.”
“That man,” Mira said, unable to say more.
“He ran away. I called 911. Help is coming. All we have to do is hang on.”
Carter had the day off Sunday. He slept in, then spent the morning doing laundry in their landlady’s garage.
Dalton was working, so he had the apartment to himself, but was unmotivated to do much of anything.
He wanted to call Mira, and thought he would eventually give in to the urge to do so, though he was holding off as long as possible, not wanting to look too needy.
He was taking the last load of clothes out of the dryer when his phone sounded with an alert for search and rescue. Injured hiker, Gold Lake Trail.
He left the laundry, grabbed his pack and keys, and headed for SAR headquarters, the familiar adrenaline rush humming through him.
He wondered what they would find on the trail.
It could be anything from a sprained ankle to a head injury from a fall.
Whatever it was, the team would figure out what to do to help someone, and maybe even save a life.
He was surprised to see Sergeant Gage Walker standing with Danny to address the gathered volunteers.
“Two women were attacked by an unknown man on the Gold Lake Trail about eleven thirty this morning,” Gage said.
“One of them sustained the brunt of the attack. Her companion reports she’s bleeding from a head wound and may have a broken arm. ”
“Where is the attacker?” Harper Vernon asked.
“He fled the scene. He was described as wearing all black. He ran away down the trail, toward the parking area. We have deputies searching for him and questioning other hikers.”
“Our job is to take care of the injured woman,” Danny said. “Let’s load up. Two litters, oxygen, cold and hot packs, first aid supplies.”
They had the vehicles loaded and were on their way to Gold Lake in under ten minutes. As they regrouped at the trail head, Aaron approached. “Jake and I are going with you,” he told Carter.
“Do you think the attacker will come back?” Carrie Andrews paused, her arms full of blankets.
“Probably not, but we don’t want to take chances,” Aaron said. “And we need to talk to the two women and find out what they know about this guy.”
Danny assigned volunteers to head up the trail, while others waited in the parking area in case backup was needed.
Carter was in the first group. He carried half of one of the litters and a medical pack, Vince behind him with the other half of the litter.
Aaron was at the front of the line, with Danny, Jake bringing up the rear.
The first portion of the hike was through an open meadow bathed in golden light, a cloudless blue sky providing a backdrop for red rock peaks. It was hard to imagine a brutal attack in such a peaceful setting.
The trail began to flatten out when a woman ran down the path toward them. Carter stared. “Shayla?” he asked.
She stopped talking to Danny and Aaron and glanced at Carter. Then her face crumpled. “Oh, Carter!” she moaned. “It’s Mira. Mira is hurt.”
He wasn’t clear on what happened next. Someone must have taken the litter and pack from him. Someone else—Aaron?—took hold of his arm, whether to steady him or keep him from rushing to Mira he couldn’t tell. But he was standing over her, watching as Danny and the others assessed her injuries.
She was lying on her back in the middle of the trail, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead, her arm cradled against her body, knees drawn up to her chest as she moaned. “She’s going to be okay,” Aaron spoke in his ear. “She has a broken arm. Maybe a concussion. She’s going to be okay.”
Carter nodded, and wet his dry lips. “You can let go of me now,” he said. “I’m not going to freak out.”