Death of a Songbird (16 page)

On his snort, Lark stepped around the makeshift wall into the stark moonlight. Without laces, the heels of her boots slipped up and down. Too much walking, and she would have blisters come morning. Turning her back on the campfire, she stepped off the path and headed into the woods. “We don’t have to go far. We can duck behind these trees over here.”

“What do we wipe with?” Jan asked.

“Pine needles.” Katherine rolled her eyes at Lark over the top of Jan’s head.

“You’re joking, right?”

“The other choice is to drip dry,” explained Lark.

Jan groaned. “I’d have made a lousy pioneer.”

They peed without any more talk, then headed back toward camp, single file. The storm had left the vegetation moist. Moonlight sparkled off the willows and danced along the creek. Closer to camp, the fire shed warm inviting light on the path. Katherine hurried ahead, but Jan hung back, something obviously on her mind.

“I want to thank you for saving my life, Lark.”

“Let’s not be overly dramatic,” Lark said, uncomfortable with the praise. “All I did was make you put on a dry sweatshirt.”

“If you hadn’t forced me, I might have frozen to death. And I know the fire was your idea, and the shelter. I’d like to reward you somehow. If there’s anything I can—”

“Nothing,” Lark said, cutting her off. “Your thanks is more than enough.”

Lark awakened at dawn when the first rays of sun peeked over the top of the mountain, smacking her full in the face. Rolling on the hard ground, she pushed herself up on her elbow, brushing dirt and pine needles out of the top of her hair. The end was still braided, but Lark imagined it looked worse for the wear.

The others were all still asleep. Katherine, curled near the fire, her dark head crooked on one arm, looked like a porcelain doll. Jan, scrunched up fetus-like beside Norberto, looked cold. Buzz lay flat on his back, his head propped on a bed of pine needles, snoring lightly.

Where was Paul? she wondered. He must have gotten up to go pee.

Not a bad idea. Lark sat up and stretched, feeling the pressure of her own bladder. The sky was clear, and the air smelled fresh. Reaching down, she gingerly rubbed her ankle. Her foot wasn’t too swollen this morning. That was a good sign. Clambering to her feet, she eased her weight onto her right foot. Tender, but usable.

Lark worked her feet into her boots, then hobbled out from under the lean-to. Turning toward the woods, she gimped her way up the path, breathing deep of the mountain air. Dew sparkled on the leaves, and a yellow-rumped warbler sang from the trees.

At the bend in the trail, Lark stepped off the path and moved deeper into the forest The underbrush crackled beneath her feet. A flash of turquoise in the woods to her right pulled her up short. “Paul?”

There was no mistaking his bright-colored jacket. He sat on the ground, leaning against a tree. He appeared to be watching something. Probably a bird.

“Did you spot something interesting?” she whispered, working her way quietly up behind him. “Paul?”

Reaching out her hand, she touched his shoulder, half expecting him to jump. Instead, he slumped sideways.

“Paul?”

She shook him, and his head lolled to the right. His eyes matched the color of his turquoise jacket. They stared sightlessly at the morning sun.

A red stain spread
across the front of Paul’s jacket, turning the turquoise purple. An angry gash gouged deep in his neck. Nearby lay a red-handled Swiss Army knife.

Her knife. The one she’d lent him to cut boughs with.

A scream bubbled up. Not a squeaky scream, but a full-throated screech that caused a flock of pine siskin to flush from the trees, and something larger to crash away through the undergrowth.

Lark clamped her hands across her mouth and tried breathing slowly through her nose, forcing herself to calm down.

Was he really dead? He looked dead.

She reached out a tentative hand, touching his wrist to feel for a pulse. His flesh felt cold, like precooked liver.

Panic bubbled up again. It looked like someone had slashed his throat.

Slowly, she backed away from his body; then she turned and ran toward the trail. With every step, sharp pains radiated up from her ankle. A dull throb pulsed in her temple. The underbrush on the forest floor clawed at her feet, tripping her. The branches on the bushes and trees snagged her clothes, stinging and scratching her face as she pushed through the woods toward the narrow path. Her heart pounded, and she gasped for air.

Reaching the trail, she took several faltering steps, then stopped and threw up in the bushes. Bile burned the back of her throat, and she vomited in spasms. Then, with her stomach emptied, she screamed for help.

“Buzz! Somebody! Get up!”

Ignoring the shooting pains in her leg and head, Lark sprinted for the clearing. She heard Buzz growling to life behind the lean-to.

“What’s going on? Who’s yelling?”

“It sounds like Lark,” Katherine said. “Paul? Where’s Paul?”

The shelter loomed in sight, and Lark slowed her pace. The sound of Katherine’s voice had pierced through her panic, sobering her to the reality of the situation. Katherine was Paul’s partner. The rest of them were Paul’s friends. One of them was Paul’s murderer.

“What’s wrong?” demanded Buzz, stepping out in to the open and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Did something scare you?”

Lark glanced at the others, then looked at the ground. “Can I talk to you a minute, Buzz?”

Katherine’s eyes grew round with alarm. “Did something happen? Was Paul with you?”

Damn!
Lark scrunched her eyes closed.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”

“He’s…” Lark looked at Buzz. “I found him…” She turned back to Katherine. “He’s dead.”

A shocked silence ensued.

“Dead?” Jan whispered.

“You must be wrong,” Katherine said, her black hair swinging around her face. “You can’t be right.”

“I don’t know what happened. I found him leaning against a tree. His throat was slashed.”

“Where is he?” demanded Katherine, heading for the trail.

“He’s back in the woods,” Lark gestured lamely. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I don’t really care what
you
think,” Katherine said. “How could you just leave him out there?”

Lark blocked her path. “Katherine, he’s dead.”

“And what if he’s not?” Katherine pushed Lark aside with a strength that knocked her off balance. She turned to Buzz.

“You have to stop her.”

Lark felt another wave of nausea and dropped her head to her knees. “And someone needs to get the sheriff up here.”

Buzz hesitated for a moment before charging after Katherine. “Lark’s right,” he said, forcing her back to the clearing. “It’s better if we all stay here until the sheriff arrives.”

“What are you talking about? Someone besides her needs to go check on him. What if she’s wrong? What if he’s still alive and bleeding to death? Minutes can make the difference.” Katherine cast about for support. “Are the rest of you just going to take her word for it?”

Lark straightened. “Are you saying I would lie about something like this?”

Katherine stepped to within nose-touching distance and shrieked on the morning breeze, “Why not? You’re the one that got us stranded up here in the first place. You’re the one who gave him the knife. You’re the one he confided in.”

“Confided in? What are you talking about, Katherine?” Jan asked.

“Enough!” Buzz roared. “Everybody, sit down.”

Lark waited for Katherine to move away, then hobbled over to the boulder outcropping and sat on a relatively flat piece of rock. While the others banded together under the overhang, the sharp granite poked against Lark’s rear end, bringing the proverbial “pain in the ass” to life.

“Katherine is right,” Buzz said. “Someone else needs to go check on Paul.” He glanced at Lark. “Just to make sure. You understand. And, we need to reach Dorothy MacBean and have her notify the sheriff and park officials. Where is the walkie-talkie?”

Lark patted her jacket pockets. The handheld radio was gone. “I had it right here last night.”

“Do you remember having it this morning?”

“No. I didn’t use it. Maybe it fell out of my pocket while I was sleeping?” Lark started searching the flat spot where she’d woken. Norberto joined her, and together they combed the area.

“I don’t see it,” he said finally.

Katherine whispered something to Jan, then glared at Lark.

“Geez,” Buzz said, slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead. “Think, Lark.”

“Like I told you, I had it last night.”

After a hasty search of the clearing turned up no sign of the walkie-talkie, Buzz called them back together. “What we need is a plan. Here’s the way I see this operation. First, Lark, Norberto, and I will go back to where Lark found Paul.” Katherine sputtered a protest, but Buzz held up his hand and silenced her. “If he’s alive,
if
, Norberto and I can carry him out. Lark knows where he is.”

Katherine turned and buried her head against Jan’s shoulder. Jan smoothed the woman’s hair. “Go. We’re okay here.”

Limping in the lead, Lark backtracked her way through the forest, past the area where she heaved, to the spot where she’d turned into the woods. Several yards in from the path, they found Paul’s body.

Buzz crouched, creeping forward like a Russian Cossack dancer. “He’s dead, all right We’d better not touch anything more.”

A crackle of static broke the air.

Norberto ducked, then glanced around. “What was that? Did anyone else hear that?”

“Lark? Come in, Lark. Over.” Dorothy’s voice sounded muffled. Out of reflex, Lark patted her jacket pockets.

Buzz levered Paul’s body. The walkie-talkie lay beneath him, pressed into the ground. “How the hell did this get here?”

What was Paul doing with the walkie-talkie? He had to have lifted it off Lark while she was sleeping. Had he been trying to contact someone?

Norberto squatted down and whispered something to Buzz. He replied in the same hushed tones.

“What are you two discussing?”

Neither man answered. Buzz looked at the ground.

“You don’t think I had anything to do with this?” She felt an urge to defend herself, then decided better of it. No sense in adding fuel to the fire.

“Let’s go back to camp,” Buzz said. He squeezed past Lark, pushing a branch out of his way and letting it snap back in her face.

Lark caught the branch in her hand. “You didn’t answer my question,
Major
.”

Buzz turned to face her. “Little lady, I don’t know what to think. All I know for sure is that that man back there is dead.”

No shit, Sherlock
.

“It was your knife, and everyone connected to you and your coffee business seems to be dropping like flies.”

She felt an irrational urge to giggle, while tears of anger burned her eyes. How dare he accuse her of murdering Paul? “For the record, if one of us killed him, it wasn’t me.”

“Lark? Come in, Lark.” Dorothy’s voice crackled over the radio again. “Are you there? Over.”

“Oh my, I hope they’re all right,” Cecilia said in the background.

Buzz keyed the walkie-talkie. “This is Major Buzz Aldefer. Over.”

“Thank heavens, we were beginning to get worried.” Relief flooded Dorothy’s voice. “Search and Rescue’s on the way. Over.”

“Ten four,” Buzz said. “And you better call the Sheriff’s Department. Paul Owens is dead. Over.”

There was an answering crackle as the microphone was keyed on Dorothy’s end, but no voice came through.

“Do you copy? Over.”

“Ten four,” Dorothy said. “I’ll contact Sheriff Garcia. Over and out.”

The search party arrived in the meadow within the hour. Lark was glad to see Eric and Harry among the rescuers.

“Hey,” Eric said, standing on one leg, the other knee cocked. Except for being fully clothed, he made a perfect Abercrombie & Fitch photo opportunity.

“Hey, yourself.”

“We heard you had some trouble last night.”

Word spread fast.

“Are you okay?”

“Better now.”

“Glad to hear it,” Harry said.

Eric nodded in agreement, and Lark felt warmer inside. Brushing back the loose hairs that strayed from her braid, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Did Dorothy get a hold of Vic?”

“Ian contacted him by radio. He’s on his way.” Eric paused. “Bernie’s en route, too, with the federal boys.”

Paul was murdered on Forest Service land, so park law enforcements personnel would have to check out the scene of the crime. It was a guaranteed circus.

“Listen up,” yelled Ian Ogburn, a U.S. Fish and Wildlife officer and head of the local Mountain Search and Rescue team. He clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “This is what we’re going to do.”

The plan hatched was to build a zip line using a rope and pulley-type device.

Tying the backpack full of beef jerky, Gatorade, and granola bars on the end of a thick rope, Ian twirled it lasso-style above his head and heaved it across the chasm. Buzz scrambled to pick it up.

“One of you needs to tie the rope in that tree,” said Ian, pointing high in the branches of a giant ponderosa. It sat a good ten feet back from the creek, its trunk measuring over six feet in circumference. The closest limbs to the ground jutted out from eight feet in the air. “Which one of you knows how to tie a bowline knot?”

Lark and Buzz both raised their hands. A bowline was a strong knot forming a loop that didn’t slip. She’d learned to tie one sailing summers off the coast of Maine.

“One of you needs to shinny up there, wrap your end of the rope around the tree about fifteen feet in the air, and tie off. Any questions?”

Since it required a leg up to perform the feat, Buzz cupped his hands and offered to lever Lark into the tree. “I’ve got sixty pounds on you. There’s no way you and Norberto together could boost me high enough.”

“Promise you’ll add monkey to my list of accomplishments?”

“Let’s go on three. One, two…” Buzz strained, boosting her into the air. Lark grabbed hold of the lowest branch, swinging on the limb like a child on a jungle gym bar. Pushing against the bark with her feet, she shinnied up into the tree.

“Go a little higher,” Ian yelled.

Grabbing the branch above her, Lark hauled herself farther up into the tree. Fifteen feet below, the ground swayed.

“Don’t look down,” Buzz ordered.

“Got it,” Lark said, focusing her gaze on the branches above her. There would be plenty of time for looking down when she tried climbing out of the tall pine.

Two branches higher, and Ian yelled, “There, that’s high enough.”

Lark wrapped the end of the rope around the thick tree trunk. Making a loop in the long side of the rope, she fed the end up, around, back, and yanked down. The knot tightened and held. She tugged. “Okay. It’s tied off.”

Ian jerked on the tope. “Is it holding?”

She flashed him a thumbs-up.

“Okay, climb down.”

That was easier said than done.

Lark stretched her leg out, searching with her toe for a branch to rest her foot on. Slowly, she inched her way down the tree, until her foot met air.

“That’s as far as you can go,” Buzz called. “You’ll have to jump down from there.”

“Jump?” Not with her ankle throbbing like it was, and her head still tender. “Can’t you reach up and get me?”

“You’re still too high. Try hanging from one of the branches, like you did when you climbed up there?”

Lark peered down at Buzz, and the world spun. Now she knew why she’d never been a mountain climber. Clutching the tree, she pressed her face against the trunk. Sticky, pine-scented sap oozed across her cheek.

“Okay, here goes.” Securing herself between two branches, she worked her way into a sitting position on the lowest one. “Be ready to catch me in case this doesn’t work.”

Flipping onto her stomach, she swayed in the air, then spun over the top and dropped into a hanging position. Tree bark scraped her stomach and the palms of the hands.

“Slick move,” shouted Eric.

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“You’re right above me, Lark. Let go, and I’ll catch you.”

“Doesn’t this remind you of one of those management retreat activities?” Jan asked, speaking for the first time. “You know, where they ask you to trust each other and make you play dumb games, like the one where you fall into the arms of the other managers.” She laughed. “I always knew they’d drop me.”

Luckily for Lark, Buzz caught her before she hit the ground.

Soon, Ian and several of the rescue crew zipped across the chasm using special carabineers. They quickly set up a pulley system designed to transport people back across in a sling.

The first one to go was Katherine. Jan followed, then Norberto. On each return trip, a law enforcement officer descended upon Elk Mountain. Before long, the clearing swarmed with officers. Then, once again, Lark escorted them to the spot where she’d first found Paul.

Hours had passed since she’d last been there. The sun had warmed the land, heating the forest, stirring the insects to life. Flies buzzed around Paul’s body, flitting across his jacket and nibbling at his blue-tinged lips.

“He’s dead, all right,” Crandall said, sitting back on his haunches and pushing his fingers through his hair. “Looks like someone wanted him dead.” He turned to Buzz. “It would take someone pretty big to subdue a man this size.”