Fatal Descent (15 page)

“Did you confront him?”

“Nooo,” Amy wailed. “I didn’t know what to do. I can’t live without
Les. He takes care of me.”

Yeah, in more ways than one, Mandy thought. “Amy, I noticed that Les seems to treat you pretty rough. That’s where those bruises on your thighs came from, right?”

Amy bit her lip and nodded. “But he’s not that bad. It’s usually just when he’s had too much to drink.”

Which on this trip had been every night, in Mandy’s opinion.

“I know he loves me!” Amy shouted. Desperation roughened her voice. “This thing with Alice is just a sordid fling. He’ll get over it soon.”

“If he’s resorting to murder,” Mandy said, “it’s not just a fling.”

The weight of that statement settled on them and quieted them both for a while.

Mandy did some thinking, then said, “Les didn’t kill Alex because of a fling—or even a love affair. If his motive was love, he could have just asked you for a divorce. No, I think Les’s plan was to get rid of both you and Alex on this trip, making both deaths look like accidents—in your case, a drowning, and in Alex’s, a bear attack. That’s why he sabotaged the radio when he killed Alex. He needed the trip to continue so he could kill you, too. Then he planned to marry Alice. She would inherit all of the money, and they’d live the high life.”

Amy’s brows knitted together. “So he did this for money, not love.”

To Mandy, the statement sounded pathetically hopeful.

Then Amy gasped. “Maybe Alice is just using Les, pretending to love him, so he’d help her in this scheme. That would be like Alice. When we were kids, she always resented having to share with her little sister and brother.”

“There’s another possibility,” Mandy said. “That Les is the one using Alice. We don’t have any evidence that Alice is involved in the murders. Les could be acting all on his own. He may not even have any attraction for Alice at all.”

Amy stared at Mandy. When her expression darkened, Mandy realized that Amy was reaching the conclusion that Mandy had already made—Les had been using her, too.

“No, no.” Amy’s tears started flowing again. She clamped her lips
tight and hugged herself.

The action made Mandy realize that the air was getting chilly. The afternoon sun had slid behind the canyon wall across the river, and the long shadow had reached them. She glanced at her watch. She estimated over forty-five minutes had passed since she had dragged Amy to shore.

Where were the others? Why hadn’t they come back to look for them yet? All of the guides were trained to go back upriver if they lost anyone, to find them and rescue them, no matter what story Les came up with. And if Les hadn’t reached the group, they would come back searching for all three of them. Mandy decided some problem downriver must have held them up.

Then she had an awful thought. What if Les had beached the raft before reaching the others and was on his way back upstream to make sure she and Amy were dead? If he reached them before the others did, she and Amy would have to fight for their lives. She stood, straining her aching muscles, and carefully scanned the banks on both sides of the river. She saw no movement.

She realized that there was no way for Les to approach them unseen along the long, flat beach they were on, so if he came for them, they would have warning. She picked up a couple of strong lengths of driftwood and laid them at the ready nearby. That was
the best she could do to prepare, other than continually scanning
the banks downriver. In the meantime, with the temperature dropping
, she and Amy were susceptible to hypothermia in their wet clothes.

“I’ll get a fire going,” Mandy said to Amy. “We’ve got to get dry and try to stay warm until rescue comes.”

She made multiple trips up and down the beach until she had a large pile of driftwood and broken branches. Then she knelt near Amy to construct a small wood teepee around a waxy fire starter block that she took out of her fanny pack. Mandy lit the block with her fireproof matches. She kept feeding larger and larger pieces of wood onto the blaze until she had a good-sized fire going.

Then Mandy helped Amy to a sitting position. “Once your clothes are dry on the side facing the fire, I’ll help you flip over so the other side gets dry.”

Exhausted, she stood with her hands warming over the blaze
and
searched the shadows of the darkening canyon downriver.
Where the hell are the others?

_____

“I think I’m going to have to hike out,” Mandy said to Amy two hours later.

They were sitting hunched over the fire, in the dark, cold, hungry,
and thirsty. There had been no sign of the others coming upstream to look for them. Or, thank the river gods, of Les. Still, something was definitely wrong.

Amy winced as she shifted position to warm her other side. “Why hasn’t anyone come for us?”

“I don’t know. They should have.” Mandy knew that all of the guides would have been driven to look for them. Rob, especially, would have come as soon as he could. He loved her! He would never abandon her. Unless …

“Something—or someone—has to be preventing them from coming.” A looming dread crept into Mandy’s thoughts. She peered at Amy. “What does Les have in that camera bag that he always keeps with him? Is he carrying a weapon?”

Amy stared at Mandy in disbelief. “You think Les is stopping them?”

Or has already killed them.
But Mandy refused to believe that. The thought was too horrible to accept.

“Either that,” she said to Amy, “or a landslide dammed the river. Which we should have heard. And since the water level hasn’t changed, it couldn’t have happened.” Mandy held out her hands palms-up. “What else could be the reason?”

“Maybe the guides decided to keep moving, to go on to Lake Powell and send someone else back for us.”

Mandy shook her head. “That’s not our training. We rescue first,
make sure someone who’s hurt, like you are, is stable, before we go for help. They have no idea whether we’re alive or dead or hurt. They’d find out first. So, back to my question. What does Les have in that camera bag?”

“I don’t know,” Amy wailed. “He kept it with him all the time. Said he didn’t want me messing with it because his expensive camera gear was in it.”

“That makes me even more suspicious.” Mandy hugged her
knees close to her chest. “Les probably kept the bear claw and hypos in there, and whatever sedative he used on you and Alex. He was hoping to make your and your brother’s deaths look like accidents—and I got in the way.”

Then an idea formed in her head. “Or he overheard Rob and me
talking, or me talking to Betsy, and learned that I suspected Alex’s death wasn’t an accident. So he decided to get rid of me, too.”

“I still can’t believe he’d do something like that,” Amy whispered.

Mandy remembered Les’s grim, determined expression when he struck her with his paddle. “I can.”

And if Les overheard her talking to Rob about Alex, he would go after Rob, too. If it came to hand-to-hand combat, Rob could probably defend himself against Les, but not if Les was able to inject him with the sedative first—or if he had a gun. She turned to Amy. “Does Les own a gun?”

Amy nodded. “Yeah, he has a couple of handguns and some hunting rifles.”

“If I was Les, I’d be carrying a handgun with me, in that camera bag, in case the plan went wrong or someone found out.” Mandy could no longer tamp down her fear for Rob. She leapt to her feet.
“I’ve got to go. I have to stop him from hurting Rob or anyone else.”

If he hasn’t already.
But Mandy had to have hope to cling to.
Stop it!

“I don’t want to be left here alone.” Renewed tears dribbled down Amy’s cheeks. “It’s not safe.”

“You’re safer than the others, who have a killer among them. And if I don’t go and warn them and get help for all of us, the two of us might never be found here.” Mandy dug in her fanny pack, took out a thin folded space blanket and an energy bar and handed them to Amy. “I’ll leave these with you. Bundle up in the space blanket and keep the fire fed, so you’ll stay warm tonight. If you get hungry nibble on this. Don’t eat it all at once.”

“I’ll go with you.” Amy pushed on her hands, struggling to rise.

Mandy put a restraining hand on Amy’s shoulder. “You can’t travel with that broken leg. It’s safest for you if you stay. If you try to walk on it, you could hurt yourself more, or tear an artery in your leg and bleed to death.”

“I’m scared.”

“So am I.”
For us, yes, but especially for Rob.

Mandy reached down and hugged Amy. “I’m sorry, but this is our only option. I can’t stay, and you can’t go. I promise that I’ll come back for you or send someone for you as soon as I can.” She stared into Amy’s wide, pleading eyes. “I promise.”

Then she turned and headed downriver, into the dark unknown.

fifteen

The man who is swimming against
the stream knows the strength of it.

—
woodrow t. wilson

Mandy tripped over a
boulder in the dark and fell down once again with an “oof.” She lay there cursing her clumsiness until a stone under her stomach made itself known. She wiggled on the sand until at least that part of her wasn’t resting on rocks. Her body felt like it had spent time in a washing machine full of cement blocks on fast-spin cycle. The beatings came from her swim in Big Drop Three, clambering over rock piles and through willow thickets, and her frequent falls in the dark while hiking.

One side of her brain pleaded for rest, begged to lie there just for a few minutes. But the other side knew that would be a fatal mistake. With a groan, she sat up.

She pressed the light button on her waterproof watch and saw that she had been stumbling downriver for over an hour. The moon wasn’t yet visible in the thin wedge of star-studded black sky that sliced through the towering canyon walls, so she had had to rely on starlight to pick her way. She had estimated that the distance between the beach where she left Amy and Waterhole Canyon, where the group had planned to camp, was about three miles. If she had been walking on a flat trail in daylight, she would have been there in less than an hour. But from what she remembered of the river map, she had gone only half that distance.

Damn.

Of course, Mandy had no idea if the others actually were at Waterhole Canyon. She tried to put herself in Les’s mind, figure out what he would do. What was his exit strategy? She could only hope that he still planned to rendezvous the next morning with their pick-up motor launch.

At least Mandy had a pretty good idea where she was. She had passed two dry, rock-strewn ditches in the sand, indicating small side canyons that sometimes dumped water into the Colorado River after rains. And she had been listening to and observing the river beside her. She had passed the roar of three long rapids, and she was still alongside the third one. So, she figured she was at Rapid Twenty-Six.

But she had yet to cross a large ditch that would indicate she had reached Imperial Canyon, a mile upstream from Waterhole Canyon.
Just past that was where she planned to make a swim across the swift-flowing Colorado River, which she’d been dreading.

Mandy rubbed her chilled arms. If she was cold now, she would
be freezing after the swim. But Waterhole Canyon was on the other side of the river. If she wanted to sneak into camp, she had to make the river crossing a fair distance upstream.

And that’s what she planned to do. Sneak into the camp—if they were there. Try to find Rob’s tent and hopefully him in it, figure out what was going on and what to do next. She refused to listen to the fearful small voice in her head that whispered Les may have already killed Rob—and possibly the other guides. And if the man was really that crazed or desperate, the other clients, too. No, she had to believe that Rob and the others were still alive.

She licked her dry lips and pushed herself to her feet.
Onward
, she told her sore legs. She took one step, then another and started moving again.

Finally, Mandy approached a large ditch with a trickle of mud at the bottom. She searched the canyon wall to her left and thought she saw a break in the outline of its looming, dark expanse against the starry sky. She gingerly picked her way across the ditch, scrambled up the other side, then stopped and scanned the canyon rim again, hugging herself against the bitter cold. Yes, there was a large divot in the jagged edge, indicating a sizable side canyon.

She walked a little farther, and the river to her right quieted again. “Okay,” she told herself, “that means I’ve gone past Imperial Canyon and Rapid Twenty-Six. Next is Rapid Twenty-seven, then I swim.” She remembered Rob saying that the gap between Rapids Twenty-Seven and Twenty-Eight was fairly long, so that was her best option for a safe swim.

She shuddered at the prospect, but pushed on. When she passed a cottonwood tree, a loud hooting overhead startled her. Looking up she saw two glowing yellow eyes focused on her. A great horned owl. Normally she would be excited to see one, but at that moment she hoped it wasn’t an ominous sign. Many Native American tribes in the west believed that the owls carried the souls of the dead to the underworld.

Mandy hoped this one wasn’t waiting for her soul.

Soon thereafter, she heard the roar of Rapid Twenty-Seven. She hiked along its length, fell once and skinned her knee, then reached a point where the river quieted. She walked to the water and stood there looking across the Colorado. It flowed by, powerful and almost silent, with just a few undulations breaking its smooth shiny black surface. She couldn’t see the river bank on the other side.

She stepped into the water and felt the cool current slide across her toes. It was actually warmer than the air, but she dreaded the swim. There was the danger of soaking herself and coming out wet into the cold air on the other side, inviting hypothermia. And, there was the risk of hitting something in the river in the dark and injuring herself or knocking herself out. Or, the risk of not making it to the other side before she was swept into Rapid Twenty-Eight. Or …

Stop it!

Mandy had no choice. She took a deep breath and waded in. When the water came over her knees, she sank down and launched herself out into the current on her stomach. She gasped as the icy water soaked her nylon swim trunks and shirt.

Her PFD kept Mandy buoyant and atop the surface of the water, but the water’s force spun her legs downstream. She started swimming at an angle somewhere between directly upstream and across to the opposite shore. Hopefully keeping her body at that angle would help the current ferry her to the other side before she was swept into Rapid Twenty-Eight and past the camp.

Soon, she was far enough out into the river that she couldn’t
see the river bank on either side. All she could do was keep on swim
ming and hope she was making progress. As long as she felt the push of the current against her right side, she knew she was still headed in the correct direction.

Mandy swam and swam until her arm and leg muscles screamed
in agony, but she knew that if she stopped, the current could shove her back into midstream. Just when she felt her leaden arms and legs couldn’t make another stroke or kick, a flush of warmth infused her.

Hypothermia or Uncle Bill?

Whichever one it was, it gave her a renewed sense of strength. She forged ahead again. She started a counting cadence to stroke to. Finally, she saw a glimmer of shoreline on the other side. That gave her a burst of energy, and she kicked faster and harder.

When her foot hit bottom, she breathed out a sigh of relief. But she couldn’t stop. Not yet. She kept swimming until her knee banged on a rock and she realized she was in quiet water again where she could safely stand.

Mandy went into a crawl on her hands and knees until she was out of the water and lay panting on the beach. A breeze made her shiver—a signal to get moving. She pushed herself to her feet and started picking her way downstream. With her teeth rattling in her head from violent shivers, she hugged herself and rubbed her arms, willing the goose bumps to fade. She hoped the breeze would dry her off eventually, but in the meantime, it was damn cold.

After about a half hour, she ran out of sand and had to start scrambling over large boulders, with sharp driftwood sticks piled between them. That slowed her progress, because she didn’t want to crash into a stick pile or send any rocks tumbling, either of which would announce her presence, and could hurt like the dickens. And she couldn’t afford to get injured. She had no idea how wide the rock fall was and how far she would have to scramble before she reached the sandy beach in front of Waterhole Canyon on the other side.

At least the effort of picking her way through the rocks kept her from feeling the cold too much. And, when she dropped down between large boulders, their mass cut the breeze. But her jaws hurt from clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering.

The climb over and through the rock fall added to her numer
ous scrapes and bruises until Mandy thought there couldn’t be a single spot of skin on her that wasn’t damaged, except where her PFD protected her chest. Finally, she spied beach ahead and tents—familiar tents.

Thank the river gods!

Mandy stopped to rest behind a large boulder and checked her watch. Ten thirty. By that time on past nights in the canyon, everyone had gone to sleep in their tents. She couldn’t be sure of that tonight, though.

She hunkered down and slowly pushed sticks aside until she had cleared a flat space on the sand to sit. She hugged herself to try to generate some warmth and scanned the camp. All was quiet, except for the dissonant sound of Paul’s snores coming from the far side of the beach and the lapping of the river against the shore, from waves coming off of Rapid Twenty-Eight. The sound was much like what Mandy had heard when she camped out on an ocean beach on the California coast a few years ago. If she hadn’t been shivering so violently, the waves could have almost lulled her to sleep. She was exhausted and her body craved rest.

But she couldn’t rest. Not yet. She had to find out what was going on. She scanned the campsite for movement. If Les had overpowered the guides somehow, it would make sense for him to stay awake and guard against any of them escaping. If he killed them, though, he wouldn’t need to do that—unless the other clients rebelled. At least Mandy knew he hadn’t killed the whole group, because she could hear Paul.

The fact that all of the tents were pitched gave her hope, too. Les wouldn’t pitch tents for dead people.

Then she realized that Rob’s and her tent was at the end of the beach closest to her. What luck. She would only have to skirt the girlfriends’ tent to get to it. She checked her watch again. A half hour had passed with no movement or sounds other than Paul’s snores, the waves against the shore, and her own teeth chattering in her head.

Mandy slowly unfurled her cramped body, flexed her stiff fingers and toes, and crept out of the rock pile. The tents all lay along the low-water beach that spread out below a head-high sand shelf above which lay the entrance to the canyon. She stayed on hands and knees as she inched along the beach so she could feel for rocks and driftwood in the sand and avoid them. Slowly and anxiously, she crawled around the back of the girlfriends’ tent and came to the door of Rob’s tent.

She gingerly unzipped the flap. The slow rip of the zipper sounded
like a thunderclap to her ears. She paused to listen for anyone stirring.

Nothing.

Mandy unzipped it some more, then slithered inside. She inched toward the back of the tent, searching for Rob’s face in the lump of sleeping bag beside her with her heart in her throat. When she reached his head, she realized his eyes were open.

In a choked whisper, he said, “
Mi querida.
You’re alive.”

She kissed him, her heart soaring with relief. She breathed a whisper into his mouth, “Thank goodness, so are you.”

She hugged him to her and placed her cheek, damp with tears, next to his. His cheek was wet, too. Both their bodies shook as they wept silently together.

Finally, Mandy pulled back and wiped her face. She realized he hadn’t returned his hug. “Are you tied up?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She reached into his sleeping bag and ran her hands down his back until she found his wrists bound together with rope. Before she could undo any knots, a violent shiver shook her frame.

“You’re freezing. Change into dry clothes first,” Rob whispered. “They’re in the bag by my head.”

Mandy realized her frozen fingers wouldn’t make much progress on the knots anyway. They were having a hard enough time unbuckling her PFD. With clumsy fingers, she pulled off the wet lifejacket and clothes and pulled on dry sweatpants and a sweatshirt as quickly and quietly as she could. Finally she slid into Rob’s sleeping bag, feeling so, so grateful for the heat of his body.

Rob turned his back to her so she could reach his hands. She pulled her pocket knife out of her first aid fanny pack and used that to saw away at the rope around Rob’s wrists rather than try to untie the knots.

When his hands were finally free, he rolled over. “You’re so cold. Let me warm you.” He enveloped her in a tight hug.

Mandy couldn’t stop the “ouch” that came out.

Rob loosened his grip. “Did I hurt you?”

“Every inch of my body hurts. But don’t stop hugging. I need it.”

“Babe, I’m so sorry for what you must have had to go through.” He pulled the top of the sleeping bag over their heads and kissed her gently. “This will muffle our voices. Les is sleeping at the other end of camp, but we can’t be too careful. How did you get here? Where’s Amy?”

She whispered a quick summary of how Les had dumped both
of them out of the raft, of Amy’s injury and status, and of her night
-time journey down the river to get there.

Rob caressed her back and kissed her. “My dear
querida
. You suffered so much. I wish I could have helped you.”

Mandy smiled. “Me, too.” Her stomach growled. “And I missed the end-of-the-trip steak dinner. Did you fix that?”

“Ye-es, between other stuff going on. Sorry there’s no food in the tent for you.”

“We’ve got bigger problems than my noisy stomach to deal with.” Then she asked, “What happened here?”

“After Big Drop Three, we eddied out below Rapid Twenty-Four to regroup. When I saw Les at the oars of your raft, I almost died.” Rob clutched her tighter then continued. “He sped right past us, yelling that he couldn’t control the raft. I got Diana and Hal out of my raft and had Gonzo and Cool get in. I told everyone to stay with Kendra while we went after Les. With Cool and Gonzo paddling and me oaring, we caught up with Les just past Rapid Twenty-Five. Gonzo leapt into your raft and took over the oars. We got the two rafts to shore, then Les told his story.”