Bones (5 page)

I tried hard to keep my thoughts away from memories of a particular time I had spent in the mountains, in a small room in a cabin, the captive of some rather brutal hosts. The nightmares induced by all that had happened there were fewer now, but I knew what might trigger them again--enclosed spaces, stress, new surroundings.

Think of something else.

I thought of Gillian Sayre. I thought of her mother. I stayed awake.

I was wondering if I should give in to the old memories of captivity, go ahead and think about them--dwell on them for God's sake, if that would relieve the tension--when there was a sudden brightness on my face. A flashlight, quickly lowered. Both the path of the beam of light and the sound of footsteps made it clear that someone was making his way toward me. As he drew closer, I saw that it was Ben Sheridan. I moved to my feet as he reached me.

"Why are you awake?" he whispered, his breath fogging in the cold air. "It's three in the morning."

"Just waiting for my big chance to look through all your gear and touch everything that belongs to the Las Piernas P.D.," I whispered back.

He was silent for a moment, then repeated, "Why are you awake?"

"Am I disturbing you?"

"No."

"Well, then, why are you awake?"

"Shhh. Not so loud. You'll wake the others."

I waited.

"I did sleep," he said.

"Not for long," I said.

"You haven't slept at all."

"Ben, if you've slept, then how could you possibly know I haven't?"

He started to move away again.

"I have problems with enclosed spaces," I said.

He halted, then said, "Claustrophobia? The tent bothers you?"

"Yes."

"Sleep outside."

"It's not just that." But I couldn't bring myself to say more.

We were interrupted then. Bingle had heard us, and he emerged from David's tent, shaking himself as if he had just stepped out of a bath. Tufts of fur around his ears spiked out from his head, making him look genuinely woozy. The effect was comical.

David soon followed him out of the tent. Before I could apologize, David was whispering drowsily, "Hi, Ben. Need to borrow Bingle?"

"She does," Ben said.

"What?" I asked, startled.

"Okay," David said, turning to Bingle. "Duerme con ella," he commanded in Spanish, pointing at me. Sleep with her. Bingle happily trotted over--and flopped down next to me.

"Wait a minute--"

"Keep him warm and he'll be okay," David said, and went back into his tent.

I looked up at Ben in some exasperation.

"He'll wake you if you start to have a nightmare," Ben said, and started to walk off.

"Who said anything about nightmares?" I asked.

He looked over his shoulder, then said, "No one." He kept walking.

Bingle was watching me, a look of expectation on his face.

I sighed and got into my sleeping bag. Bingle did a brief inspection of the interior of the tent, then lay down next to me. He moved restlessly for a moment or two, until he seemed to find a position he liked--resting his head on my shoulder.

"Comfy?" I asked.

He snorted.

I buried a hand in his thick coat, and found myself smiling. A few minutes later, I was asleep.

I awakened briefly when Bingle left me the next morning, but slept in a little longer, until the sounds of the camp stirring to life were too much to snooze through.

Not long after breakfast, we left the base camp. Only the pilot stayed behind with the heaviest gear. Parrish claimed that Julia Sayre was buried at least a day's hike from the airstrip. Backpacks on, we began our journey into the forest.

Our progress was slow. Following the lead of a man who was handcuffed and heavily guarded--and perhaps savoring his last days outside of prison--was only part of the reason for our sluggish pace.

Ben and David had extra equipment to be carried, beyond the usual camping gear, and were heavily loaded down.

The group was large, and within it our level of experience varied from novice to expert. I suppose I fell somewhere in the middle; plenty of time spent hiking and backpacking, but nothing recent. J.C., the ranger, was undoubtedly the most seasoned backpacker, with Andy a close second; Flash, Houghton, David, and Ben only a little less so, but all were certainly at home in the outdoors. Bob Thompson and Phil Newly were the apparent novices. Duke was the oldest of the guards--he had shown me a photo of his new grandson, and a story about his high school days made me guess that he was in his early fifties. He was in better shape than Merrick or Manton, who were in their early thirties. Earl, somewhere in between in age, was also somewhere in between in fitness.

Flash Burden could have run circles around all of them. He was enthusiastically taking shots of wildflowers, double-checking with Andy before scribbling their names in his photographer's notebook. Andy only corrected him once or twice. They soon fell into easy talk about places they had gone hiking or rock climbing.

It was difficult to judge Parrish's experience on the trail. My suspicions were that in this forest, at least, he was absolutely at home. Perhaps in other forests as well. His boots, for example, were his own, and they were well made and broken in. He did not panic, as Phil Newly did, when a gopher snake hurried across the trail.

Bingle was not disturbed by wildlife, either. He didn't chase squirrels or other small animals, even when it was clear that he had noticed them. For the most part, he stayed near David, his behavior alternately regal and clownish.

At times, he walked near Ben. I learned from David that there was good reason for Bingle's attachment to Ben--for the last few months, Ben had been living at David's house. Although David was reluctant to supply details, apparently Ben had split up with a girlfriend, moved out, and was staying with David until the end of the semester. "He plans to find a place of his own then, even though I've told him he can stay on if he'd like. The dogs and I have enjoyed his company."

"Forgive me if I have a hard time understanding why," I said.

He smiled and said, "No, I guess Ben hasn't made a great impression on anybody on this trip. He's not at his best right now."

"Why?" I asked.

"Oh, all sorts of reasons," he said vaguely, and moved on.

We eventually stopped for lunch in a small clearing that didn't allow us to spread out as much as we had before. Nick Parrish used this opportunity to resume staring at me. Bingle, perhaps remembering who had shared a tent with him, took exception to this, standing rigid and growling at him.

"Tranquilo, mi centinela," David said softly, and the dog subsided.

"What did you say to him?" Parrish asked.

David didn't answer.

"You appear to have a protector, Ms. Kelly," Parrish said. "For now, anyway."

"Leave her alone, Parrish," Earl said.

"But I think Ms. Kelly ought to be interviewing me, don't you?"

I was spared having to answer as the last member of the group hobbled into the clearing. Phil Newly moved gingerly toward a large flat rock, then sat down on it with a sigh. It was obvious that he was about to cripple himself with those new boots. For the last half mile or so, he had been walking as if every step were over hot glass.

I was searching through my pack for some of the moleskin I had brought, when Ben Sheridan walked up to him and said, "Take your boots off."

Newly blushed and said, "I beg your pardon?"

"Take your boots off! You've probably got blisters. You should have spoken up on the trail."

"I'll leave them on, thank you," Newly said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Don't make a bigger nuisance of yourself by being stubborn," Ben said. "You're endangering this whole trip by damaging your feet. Or perhaps that's what you have in mind?"

"Now see here--"

"Ignore his manners, Phil," I said. "He's right about the blisters. Dangerous if they become infected."

But he wasn't ready to give in, and instead took out a Global Positioning System device and began the process of taking a reading. Not hiding his exasperation, Ben walked off.

"You ever use one of these handheld GPS receivers?" Newly asked me.

"No," I said. "I manage okay with a compass, an altimeter, and a map." And a little help from J.C., I added silently. His familiarity with the area had helped me identify features of the terrain more than once.

"These are pretty amazing little gizmos."

He handed it to me and spent a few minutes showing me the basics of how it worked. As the display came up with a longitude and latitude reading, he said, "Of course, it won't work in narrow valleys or in dense forests, or other places where it might have a hard time picking up signals from the satellites. I noticed Detective Thompson is using one, too."

I handed it back to him. He tucked it away, started to stand up, and swore. "Excuse me," he said, sitting down again.

"Why don't you let me take a look at those blisters? If they aren't too bad, this moleskin will help."

But when he took the boots off, it was clear that he had already done some real damage. Over the years I've taken first aid classes, but I was relieved when J.C., much better trained and experienced, stepped in to do what he could for Newly.

We moved out again, Newly moving slowly but not giving up. When we stopped about an hour later to get our bearings, he didn't hesitate to take the boots and socks off again. I could see new blisters forming. I was starting to cut another set of moleskin pads for him when we heard Parrish call out, "I want to talk with my lawyer. Privately."

"What kind of idiots do you take us for?" Duke said. "You can't just go off somewhere in the woods with your lawyer."

Phil Newly sighed, and with a wince, stood on his bare feet. "I'll talk to him over here, in plain sight of all of you. Surround us, if you like, but give us a little room to confer." When Duke looked skeptical, he added, "I'm in no shape to 'go off somewhere in the woods' with anyone."

Duke looked over to Bob Thompson, who nodded. "But I want them surrounded," Thompson said. "And nobody else near them. Ms. Kelly, get the hell away from Mr. Newly."

No one had to coax me to move out of range of Parrish, who was smiling at me. "Ah," he said, feigning disappointment. "And I was hoping she'd play with my feet, too."

That earned him a sharp push from Earl.

Wary, none of the guards stood too far away from him. "Newly," Bob Thompson said, "you two will just have to whisper."

Parrish looked down at Newly's bare feet. "You're moving too slow, Counselor," he said, not trying to lower his voice.

"There's nothing I can do about that now," Newly said. "What do you want?"

"To move faster," Parrish said, and brought one of his sturdy boots down hard on Newly's bare left foot.

Newly gave a shout of pain, and Bingle began barking, but the guards had already moved in, shoving Parrish hard to the rocky ground and pinning him there. Houghton, gun out, covered them from a short distance away. Earl was on top, holding Parrish's face against the earth, distorting Parrish's smile of satisfaction.

J.C. hurried over to Newly, who looked as if he might faint. The ranger spent a moment examining the foot and said, "I think he broke some bones. It's swelling up fast."

He opened his first aid kit again and applied an instant cold pack to the foot. Soon it became clear that Newly would not only be unable to walk, he wouldn't be able to put his left boot back on.

This led to a heated discussion over whether to end the entire trip then and there.

Thompson was the main proponent of calling it quits. The others pointed out the time and expense already incurred. "If we have him up here without his lawyer--" Thompson began, but Parrish interrupted.

"I fire him, then."

"And I'll take you right back to Las Piernas anyway," Thompson said. "You think the D.A. won't go for the death penalty if he finds out how you screwed up this expensive search? Which may just be a wild goose chase, after all."