- Hard Fall Read online

  Nadia'd given me my role, and I played it. 'Course my natural suspicions helped me fall into the bad cop mode.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I did one of those slow once overs on Gunter Warner. Similar to the one I'd done the first time I saw Kabe, but with a lot more glare thrown in for effect. "We got to ask you a few questions," I growled out.

  Shooting me a mock glower, Nadia added, "We're sorry to intrude on your tragedy." If she loaded any more sugar into her voice, I'd end up with a toothache.

  "Yes, very tragic." His face fell, as though the reminder of it shook him. "Very sad. I will miss her." He sniffled and brought his hand to his mouth. I noticed that his eyes weren't the least bit red. Maybe he just wasn't the crying type.

  Yeah, my bells were ringing about Gunter Warner. "Can you tell me what happened this morning?"

  "My wife, Anya, woke up very early. She wished to take photos of the sun as it came up where the canyon is." A hitch in his voice sounded, but it didn't quite jibe with his expression. I couldn't help but think something seemed off as he continued. "I fell back to sleep. Then I woke up and made our breakfast, our tea, but she did not come back. So, I 40

  Hard Fall

  by James Buchanan

  thought this was strange and I went to find her. I looked many places, much time before I found her. I thought she was not hurt, but she would not answer when I called. I saw she was dead. I thought I should tell someone, but my phone will not work here. When I heard Kabe coming on his motorbike, I ran down to meet him. I brought him to see the body of my wife. Then he went to call. I stayed here to look after things."

  "You knew she was dead when you found her?" Okay, that didn't square with what he'd told Kabe. Nadia and I traded quick glances.

  "Yes." Another sniffle and nod. It felt like he'd scripted when he should show emotion. "I could see."

  "Why did you bring Kabe back to see her?" Bad cop got easier and easier to wing the more I studied Warner. I darn near growled my next question. "Why didn't you just head back to the ranch with him?"

  "I thought that I should stay with her."

  "In case she got up to go for a stroll?" Add another reason for me to want to smack Ramon. There's times and places for a dig ... this weren't one of them. I shot him a glare, which seemed to go right over his head. Maybe he was ornery,

  'cause so far, the accident, crime or whatever it ended up being was about two miles from any portion of BLM land.

  Ramon had no jurisdiction and it likely rankled him.

  Pursed lips and narrowed eyes on Warner's face told me Ramon had poked him a little too hard. "I thought it would be best." Warner snapped.

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  "Of course you did." Nadia tried to repair a little damage with her southern charm and a light touch to his arm. "She was your wife. So she went to take photos of the sunrise.

  When did you realize something was wrong?"

  Warner focused his attention on her. "When she did not come to have breakfast."

  "You didn't hear anything?" Nadia smiled and Warner echoed it with a thin version of his own.

  "No, I did not hear."

  I let her have it for a bit, swing the balance back to our dance. "What did you do then?" Thankfully, Ramon had wandered over to the tent and was studying it and the doss about the edges. Idiot was also mucking what scene I had left.

  "I have told you," he sighed, "I went to find her."

  Now I broke in with a hard-edged tone to my question,

  "How long did you look?"

  "Some time." More sniffles without the accompanying water works. "I do not remember."

  "Of course, you were looking." Nadia touched his arm again ... contact to gain trust. "Now if it's okay, Agent Piestewa and Ranger Noces need to look around your campsite and your wife's things. I'm going to head over to the cliff with Deputy Peterson and Mr. Varghese and see that they get started okay. Then I'll be back to talk with you more.

  Alright?"

  Nadia took the equipment from Fred as Kabe eased back into his rack. I hadn't taken mine off for that quick bit. When 42

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  she signaled ready, I asked Kabe, "You remember where we're headed?"

  He just nodded and started off through the trees following a deer trail. Nadia fell into step beside me. After we'd cleared a ways beyond the camp, she broke the silence. "Is it just me, or was he acting like a fox sitting outside a hen house?"

  "Could just be the language thing." Even to my own ears, I didn't sound convinced at all. "Maybe."

  She gave me a girlish little laugh, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. "Yeah, it don't feel right to me neither."

  It took a good fifteen minutes to get to the ridge and a bit more to track back to the site of the fall. Kabe stopped on a bare strip of rock jutting out into the sky. One brown arm reached out and pointed to near the end. "There. She fell left into the book," using the climbing term to indicate a near perpendicular, inside corner of rock. "Maybe seventy-five feet."

  I took a deep breath and headed over. When I peered down, my mind started cataloging both the implications of the scene and what I'd need to do to get down to it. We'd be doing this one on my flash. In a search and rescue situation, you were lucky if there was any fixed protection, bolts, rings and the like, or traversed routes. 'Course if it was there, that stuff was all manky anyway and possibly the cause of the fall.

  This reeked of a pristine clean wall.

  If I'd tried, I couldn't have missed Anya Warner. A crumpled up doll lay on a ledge below surrounded by a scattering of rubble. Her head twisted nearly backwards and, like Rickland had said, she was pretty much folded in two ... a 43

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  squashed bug. The rock beneath her looked like someone smeared it with black oil. I knew better, knew what that stain was after baking in the sun for a good four hours or more.

  Nadia had wandered to the edge of the cliff. A low whistle echoed in my ear. "Wow, that's messy."

  "Definitely a victim of R.D.S." I used the military jargon co-opted by climbers long ago for Rapid Deceleration Syndrome ... otherwise known as the jarring impact at the bottom of a free fall. Everyone knew a drop didn't kill you.

  The sudden stop at the end though, that tended to send you off to meet your maker. "You'll process the scene up here while we're dealing with all that?"

  "Yep," she looked back over the open rock face and off into the pines. "As much as I can."

  "Good." I'd had my fill with looking at Anya. Plus, I knew that soon my view would be up close and personal. I turned and headed toward Kabe, who'd hung back a ways. "Now," I jabbed my finger at his chest, "I don't want you to do nothing." I slid my Berghaus Arete Pack off my shoulders. "I don't want you to touch nothing." Lighter versions flooded the market, but I liked this one 'cause it balanced a damn decent capacity with a real rugged exterior. Given all the gear I needed for a rescue—my climbing harness, rope—lots of rope—various carabiners, camming devices and wired stoppers ... it wasn't someplace I wanted to skimp. "I just want someone with experience and both hands to have my back." A derisive grunt was all my instruction seemed to merit. While I, and I'm pretty darn sure Kabe, could have 44

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  taken this wall with chalk and finger holes, body recovery ain't for the grins.

  I shucked my shirt, stuffing down the momentary welling of panic as my undershirt became visible. There's big sins, small sins and ones that are there only because we need to remind ourselves that we're different, have a covenant with the Church to be honored. And I know it don't rightly make sense, I'm lusting after a man's meat and worried about a shirt. But it's drilled into you from the time you're taken in as an adult into the Temple— don't show it at all. Never, not even the sleeves, not the edge of the neck under your shirt. Like a horse that gets zapped every time
it touches an electric fence. It learns to shy away and soon you don't even need the fence no more ... it just won't go near the spot, the habit's so deep.

  If I didn't make a big to-do out of it, maybe no one else would neither; my under-shirt looked normal enough until you got up close. God'd likely rate me a pass on this, ... and modesty, well if I came back with the inseam of my pants intact it'd be a miracle.

  If I came back with my morals intact after being around Kabe, it'd be a miracle.

  So that I didn't dwell on baring my soul with my shirt problem, I mentally went over the rappel and climb. Trad climbing with anchors, cams and a sturdy belay set up wasn't easy work and dead weight, even if it's alive, doesn't move well. A good gust of wind and I'd be the rescuee instead of the rescuer. Seen a few of those in my time and I had no 45

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  desire to live through that kind of embarrassment. The other option being dead ... well, I didn't much cotton to it, neither.

  Somehow, I managed to toe out of my boots and shove my feet into my climbing shoes without falling over. My clothes might not have made the trip—since they were sitting on the top of the dresser after my last load of wash—but my shoes always stayed at the top of my rack. After that, I stepped into my climbing harness, yanking it up around my middle and thighs. I got my Rhythm, stupidest name on the market—sounded like Mormon birth control—but suited me fine. I like the buckle set up, the sling fits my butt, racking holsters instead of clips. It's really technical and everyone has their favorite knot, sling, or anchor.

  Climbers are picky to the point of religious about their gear. Come 'round next Saturday afternoon I'll argue the finer points of a half circle grigri 'till the cows come home with anyone who wanted a go. Right now I just needed a good belay to keep me from taking a two screamer. 'Cause that face, looking over the edge, if a rope cut loose I'd have enough time to draw in a breath for a second bout of terror as I fell.

  Threading the rope through my hand, I thought out loud,

  "Think we got a couple pitches to get down there." Yeah, close to seventy-five, eighty feet, maybe not quite that. Each pitch of rope ran about fifty feet. "We'll need some good anchors ... probably can get by with cams in some places. I doubt anyone's ever set bolts in this face."

  "Aren't you just going to rappel?" That came from Nadia.

  She knelt at the rim above the body site looking for anything 46

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  out of the ordinary. Good place to start, because Kabe and I would trash the edge when we went over.

  "It's not for the going down." Kabe muttered into his chest as he tightened his harness belt. "It's the coming back up."

  Finished with that task, almost absently he walked to the absolute lip and stared down like it was a step not a plunge.

  He'd picked a spot where we couldn't see the woman, or what was left of her. That sight would come soon enough.

  I guessed right now he just wanted to size up the mountain. Take a good deep breath of it and whether it smelled like chalk, granite or limestone scree. I always did it myself, centered my soul. Rolling back my shoulders, I took a deep breath and walked to meet my challenge. Opened my eyes, my ears and my heart, the way God meant us to see.

  No layering, just accepting what His hand wrought on the rocky face.

  As I came up next to him, Kabe looked over and I got my first smile. Dazzling white, full of teeth and it crinkled up his brown face all around the most striking set of hazel eyes ...

  the kind that are almost an explosion of gold and green. In that stupid communing with the Lord in the wilderness moment, that smile burrowed into my guts and kicked my head harder than a mule. Not much more I could do in the face of it, than swallow and try to breathe.

  The smile dimmed back as though he weren't sure he should hold it, but couldn't fathom a reason not to. "You're stronger, you drag the load," I noticed he avoided the word body, "and take lead." Still, now that he was talking climbing, his voice held all the confidence of a man who knew how to 47

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  bargain with death at a hundred feet up and hanging by a thread. "That way I can make sure the belay anchors are good." Almost like the thought spooked him some, he added,

  "And watch so you don't get tangled."

  "I don't get it." Nadia's soft drawl startled me enough to step back. I'd been way too focused on Kabe, the new Kabe the thrill of the climb brought out, the bare soul in Kabe. That shook me more than I ever wanted to admit. "Why are you leading if you're going to haul the body?" She seemed genuinely perplexed and I had to remind myself she was a flatlander. "I assume leading means you're going first."

  Kabe had the courtesy not to laugh, although I could see it took a bit of effort. In that same confident tone, he explained.

  "Joe goes first, setting cams and anchors as he climbs. It's going to be hell on his shoulders and back, but the pig, the weight of the load, will be below him. I think those shoulders can manage a downward drag. Especially if we put a Z pulley set up in place." Nadia wasn't the only one who appreciated my efforts.

  "See," I choked on the hope a bit before squashing it down, "I move up, set an anchor. The first are the trickiest

  'cause I got to set a couple." Somehow I managed not to look at him. It'd destroy all the well-varnished barriers I kept up.

  "I put my second anchor in, Kabe comes up to the first one and ties himself to the face on the last cam I set." Instead, I distracted myself with tying a bandana around my head so my skull wouldn't burn.

  "Why?"

  "If Joe falls." Kabe teased in an overly dramatic voice.

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  Now I glared at him. The dig hit me deep enough in a climber's pride to overcome the lust simmering in the back half of my brain. "I ain't gonna fall." My officer growl seethed with it. Plus, superstition rode hard. Climbers didn't talk about the possibility outside of instructing other climbers. This didn't quite feel like that.

  "If Joe falls," the pitch reined back to something more pragmatic, Kabe continued, "as he's moving up to set the next anchor, I can belay him. Unless the anchor comes out, we're good." He adjusted his harness and began knotting in.

  "Zipper falls are fun. Fall, stop on the belay, anchor tears loose, fall some more."

  I could see it not quite working through Nadia's mind. I could play instructor, I'd done it before. "Belays are like brakes for ropes. He's tied to me," I flicked the rope that would link us. "I'm strung through his belay. If something happens, Kabe has to slow my fall with the belay and take the force on him and the anchor. Which means my life depends on me setting them good, 'cause if I don't they'll rip loose when my weight hits 'em." By the way Nadia's lip twitched up and her eyebrows met above the bridge of her nose, the logic of that seemed to hit. "Anyway, I don't intend on using 'em.

  So I go up, set the next anchor, tie myself off. Kabe'll clear the bolt out of the face and climb up to the next one. And we keep dancing like that until we reach the top."

  "Normally," Kabe barely glanced up from inspecting his rigging, "that's the point where you rappel back down, but we're doing this one bass-ackwards."

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  Since the tree line wasn't that far from the rim, I decided to use an old growth pine for the multiple anchor points.

  Actually two trees about thirty feet apart ... redundancy in the number of anchor lines and anchor points is key to survival.

  Darn things I chose were bigger 'round than both my thighs, straight and well rooted. It took Kabe and I a bit to set the multicolored webbing and steel rings, yank on it hard a few dozen times from a few dozen positions, but I'd rather be safe than dead. I double-checked his double-check. Kabe did a final check 'round. The boy was as meticulous about the process as I was, we'd have drove Fred nuts.


  Then we tied into the figure eights ... mine the typical heavy duty first responder steel model and Kabe's the lighter aluminum sport type. I'd go first on the rappel as well as the climb back out. I looked up from my knotting to where the ranger crab walked along. I smiled at the sight and shouted over, "You okay there, Nadia?"

  "Yeah, not much to see on solid rock." Slapping her hands on her thighs, she stood. "I'll see if I can spot any evidence on a perimeter walk, but you're good to go here."

  I walked to the edge of the cliff and took a deep breath. A different kind than before, this one got all mixed up in a prayer. Rappelling was the part of the climb I hated the most.

  When I'm on my way up, I got a load of backups to keep me from falling. Rappels were all about the equipment. Best I could manage for safety was knotting a double figure eight in the rope's tail end so I wouldn't slip off and shanking a couple Prusiks, specially tied short loops of rope, to act as secondary belays.

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  My right hand held my brake rope, the left the primary rope, and both ran through the rappel device and clips. Easy, slow, I walked backward over the lip. There's always that sudden terror as you step off the cliff and leave your life in the strength of your gear. My torso upright, my toes on the rock, I tried to keep everything as smooth as possible as I played out and walked down the face, but I still jerked now and again. Before I knew it, I was darn near at the end of my rope.

  Flatlanders just have no real idea what that expression means.

  Now I needed to set some anchors so I could continue the rappel. I actually had to jug back up a bit to find a spot I liked. Then I tied the lock off knots in my rappel rope and began setting gear. We could have extended the rappel with webbing or such, but I'd rather play it safe. Plus, what I set now would allow us to set up a Z-pulley system so that I could haul the body easier. Once it all felt set, I hooked myself on to the anchors I'd placed with a few locking carabiners and called up, "Off rope! Come on down."

  From above me I heard Kabe's yell of, "Below," advising me to watch for anything he might knock loose on his descent. I hung off the gear and studied the scene below.