Page 32 of High Frequency

Nope. I’d bet my life coincidence doesn’t play into it. Chelsea and this girl may not be the only victims either.

I glance around at the deepening shadows and shiver involuntarily.

Who knows what else is hiding out there?

Ten

Dan

I can see the tension etched on her face.

It’s a heavy load to carry, stumbling on a case like this fresh on the job. Especially since I know Sloane is eager to show her mettle.

“Want more coffee?” I hold up the kettle.

She shakes her head. “I won’t sleep.” Then she changes her mind. “Oh, what the hell, hit me up. I’m so exhausted, I don’t think there’s anything that can keep me awake once I go horizontal.”

We just had dinner, although I don’t think Sloane ate much. A couple of MREs that only required hot water, and I always pack a small tin of coffee and my camping percolator with my gear when we head into the mountains.

We’re sitting on a couple of logs I dragged to the small fire I built to boil the water. Not the most comfortable seats but they’ll do. At least the radiant heat from the fire is welcome since, now the sun is down, the chill is starting to set back in.

Sloane gives me her thermos and I top up her coffee before handing it back.

“Sorry, I know you normally take cream and sugar. Didn’t think to bring it.”

She waves me off. “This is fine. I’m grateful you thought to bring coffee.” Then she takes a sip and chuckles at herself. “Actually, you’ll probably be the grateful one tomorrow morning. I’m a bit of a bear without my morning coffee.”

“You don’t say,” I mumble under my breath, as I get up to toss the last log on. “Which reminds me, I should probably chop some more wood now so we have enough to boil water tomorrow morning.”

“Are you being a smart-ass?”

I glance over and grin at her, before grabbing the small hatchet and one of the flashlights. Then I move around the tent to the edge of the clearing to a couple of dead trees I’ve been able to get dry wood from. I lay the flashlight on the trunk of one so I can see what I’m doing, when the light catches the plastic of the body bag twenty feet back.

Sloane didn’t feel right leaving the body behind, despite the fact we’ll have to haul it right back to the rock wall tomorrow morning. She claims it’s because she doesn’t want to leave what is now considered evidence unguarded. I think in handling the remains, what was the abstract concept of a body became what was once a living, breathing, young girl.

The glimpse of the black bag is a stark reminder of our purpose here.

Glancing over my shoulder, I can still see Sloane sitting in the glow of the fire, her hands wrapped around the thermos of coffee, staring into space.

I built the firepit in front of the tent which we set up to face the creek. The hammock is secured between two trees, close to where the horses are tied down but set back a bit so I can keep an eye on things with one side and the front of the tent in view.

Not that I think there’s anything to worry about—other than perhaps inquisitive wildlife—but it gives me peace of mind.

It doesn’t take me long to have enough wood chopped for tomorrow morning. When I return to the fire with my arms full of wood, Sloane barely acknowledges me. She’s either deep in thought or half asleep. After I stack the logs beside the pit, we sit in silence for a while, with only the sounds of the babbling creek, the woods around us, and the occasional snap of a hot coal.

Every so often I glance over at her, but she seems mesmerized by the dying flames. I can’t help wonder what is going on in her mind, which is really no different from any other day. I’d love to have a glimpse inside, maybe get some answers to questions that have been pestering me.

What the hell, I might as well. It’s not like she can walk away now.

“Why did you leave?”

It takes a moment for my question to register, but when it does, she turns to me with her mouth hanging open. She doesn’t look confused, she looks incredulous.

“Are you seriously asking me that now?”

I note she doesn’t seem to have any trouble knowing exactly what I’m referring to.

“Yeah, I am. And for the record, I tried to contact you for weeks after to get that answer, but you ignored me, so I eventually gave up. I may not have been too quick on the uptake, but even for me that was a bit more rejection than I was willing to take.”

---