Jill Sorenson – Freefall (страница 13)

Hope couldn’t bear to watch him cry. It seemed like a foreign level of emotion for a controlled risk taker who never even flinched. He clearly didn’t want her to witness this breakdown, or to offer him comfort in any way. So, instead of staying with him, she unzipped the tent and walked away.

It was a chilly, misty morning. Her muscles groaned in protest as she sat down to put on her boots, so she did some yoga stretches.

Hope didn’t feel good about leaving him alone. He’d taken care of her and kept her warm last night. On the other hand, he’d thrown her out of his bed after their first encounter, and added injury to insult by forgetting her name—again.

She owed him nothing.

When he emerged from the tent a few moments later, his eyes were red-rimmed, but clear, and his mouth was set in a tight line. He laced up his hiking boots in silence. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean to touch you.”

A hint of indignation seeped back in. “Did you mean to touch me that night you took me home from the lodge?”

He flashed a sardonic smile. “Yes.”

Apparently she wasn’t worth a repeat performance. He didn’t offer any further explanation, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

She’d done a Google search on him the morning after their one-night stand, struck by the awful suspicion that he was married or in a serious relationship. The internet search had brought up articles about his business endeavors, his climbing feats and his entrapment in San Diego. He’d been linked to various women, including an Italian supermodel, but she hadn’t found any information about wives or current girlfriends. Not even on Facebook.

She’d closed her laptop, resolving to forget about him. Faith was the only person she’d mentioned his name to. The female rangers she worked with were friendly, but asking them about Sam’s love life would only provide gossip fodder. Rumors that he was gay, or unable to perform since the coma he’d suffered during the San Diego earthquake, were baseless. She just wanted to put the humiliating experience behind her.

Sam broke down camp while Hope ate her last granola bar, her thoughts churning. Together, they set off toward Kaweah.

Her stiff muscles loosened up and her resentment faded. He’d lost a woman he loved. If he wasn’t over her, he shouldn’t have taken Hope to bed, but whatever. He’d been drunk. He’d made a mistake.

She knew how hard it was to let go. Better than anyone.

By the time they reached the base of the mountain, she’d brushed off her hurt feelings. She wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, and his apology seemed genuine. She suspected that he was struggling with severe depression. Anyone who free-soloed at night had one foot in the grave.

Hope had worked a number of suicide scenes. Sierra National Park was a popular place for cliff jumpers. It was wide open, with few witnesses and many high points to leap from. Often the bodies were unidentifiable, and it was difficult to distinguish between a purposeful death and a falling accident.

The thought of finding Sam’s body at the base of a cliff, his internal organs obliterated and bones crushed, chilled Hope to the core.

At midmorning, the sun was burning through a haze of clouds and the air felt heavy. They might be in for rain, another complication she didn’t need. Instead of moping about it, she put a spring in her step, following her mantra to stay positive.

Kaweah was bustling with activity. As they arrived, a team of investigators headed up the path to Angel Wings.

She stopped to speak with Deputy Phillip Meeks, the leader. He was a young man, former military, kind of a hotshot. A more experienced deputy wouldn’t be amiss, but at least Meeks was strong and fit. She showed him the pictures on her camera, pointing out the exact location of the drug stash.

“You’ll want to take East Slope, the trail on the left. It’s faster.”

“Ten-four,” he said, wearing the ghost of a smirk.

Meeks had been at the bar the night she’d gone home with Sam. He might have seen them leave together, but he hadn’t run his mouth about it, as far as she knew. Long Pine was a small community, and members of local law enforcement were a tight-knit group. If Meeks had talked, she’d have heard.

She said goodbye to the team and continued to the ranger station with Sam. Ranger Cordova, who usually worked at another region of the park, was in the back office. She offered them a seat and cold sodas.

“Thanks,” Hope said, cracking hers open. “Where’s Kruger?”

“He called in sick today.”

Bill Kruger was the head ranger at Kaweah. He’d gotten the job through a family connection with the park manager, and he shirked his duties on a regular basis. She was glad he wasn’t here to screw anything up.

Bernice Cordova had a great attitude and lots of energy, like most rookie rangers. She was a cute little thing with brown eyes and a pixie cut. Her girlfriend was a park attendant at Giant Forest. They were “out” as a couple, which drew some attention from the male staff. Although she didn’t play for his team, Cordova seemed mesmerized by Sam.

“This is Sam Rutherford,” Hope supplied.

“I know,” Cordova said. “I’m a big fan of yours. I started kayaking when I was ten, after I watched you on TV.”

Sam had earned two gold medals in whitewater slalom twelve years ago, but he was better known for his daredevil ascents. The Olympics had made him a local hero; extreme rock climbing had made him famous. Not to mention rich, through lucrative endorsement deals and sports-related business ventures.

He took a drink of his soda, seeming embarrassed by the praise.

“What have we got?” Hope asked.

Cordova pulled her gaze away from Sam. “Deputy Meeks dusted for fingerprints in the men’s room, but he didn’t find a good set. Too much traffic in there.”

“Where are the clothes?”

“Bagged and taken to the crime lab. Here’s the information from the labels.” She handed Hope a printout.

“Ferragamo loafers, size twelve,” she read, glancing at Sam. “Are those expensive?”

“Yes.”

“What about...Bugatchi Uomo?”

He leaned over to read the name on the paper. “Never heard of it.”

“The shirt is a large and the pants are thirty-two/thirty-two.” She studied the length of Sam’s legs. “What size are you?”

“Thirty-two/thirty-four.”

“You’re bigger than he is?”

“I’m taller.”

Ranger Cordova gave her another printout. “I also have a description of the stolen backpack and a list of the items inside.”

“Excellent,” Hope said, scanning it. “Do you know if any single men left the campsite yesterday morning?”

“Just one, according to Morgenstern. A young guy in a red truck. He bowed out of the rafting trip at the last minute, complaining of stomach problems.”

Hope frowned at this news. Alan Morgenstern was a VIP, or volunteer-in-park. He actually did most of Kruger’s work around the campsite for a small stipend. “Did Ron check in this morning?”

“Yes.”

“How many in his group?”

She consulted the computer. “Seven, including him.”

“That’s strange.”

“Why?”

“I was supposed to be on that trip, in a group of eight. If two rafters are missing, there should be six left.”

Cordova found the original list and confirmed the numbers. “You’re right.”

“Maybe that guy in the truck was our suspect,” she said, her heart racing. “Where’s Morgenstern?”

“In his trailer.”

Hope leaped to her feet. She wanted to talk to him in person.

“Should I come?” Cordova asked.

“No need,” she said, waving her hand in the air. Morgenstern hated rookies, especially females. He probably hated lesbians, too. To be fair, he also hated Bill Kruger, and pretty much every employee on staff. He was an equal opportunity asshole.

Cordova smiled at Sam, eager to chat with him one-on-one. He stood and followed Hope out of the office.

“You didn’t want to be alone with Cordova?” she teased.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you interested in adoring women?”

“Not remotely.”

“I think you’re safe. She has a girlfriend.”