Page 37 of High Frequency

He shakes his head. “Let’s do it after, we can take our time.” Then he leaves me standing by the fire.

Not sure what he wants to take his time for, but I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Call me crazy, but I feel responsible for the girl’s remains.

I turn around at the sound of a soft hiss and find him spraying himself with bug spray. When he catches me looking, he raises a questioning eyebrow and holds up the can of DEET. Even a whiff of the stuff in the air makes me want to gag, let alone when I spray it all over my skin. But, since I already have an impressive collection of bug bites I have no desire to add to, I concede and take the offered can.

I’m just handing the can back to Dan when his radio crackles alive.

“Tracker Three for Tracker Six. Rise and shine, kids. Over”

I recognize Bo’s distinct deep rumble.

“This is Tracker Six. Morning. You guys here already? Over,” Dan responds

“Had to wait for the sheriff at the trailhead. About to ride out now. Over”

Dan checks his watch.

“Roger. We’ll be ready. Out.”

Five minutes later we each pick up one end of the black, heavy-duty bag we left just inside the tree line, and start walking toward the rock wall. We try to keep the surprisingly heavy bag as level as we can to avoid jostling the remains inside too much, but it means the going is slow.

When we get to the large boulder we have to circumvent, my pack starts sliding off my shoulder. It holds my crime scene kit but also, and more importantly, my camera. I was hoping to properly record securing the remains in the basket, and take some pictures as well as it’s being hauled up to the edge of the cliff, into the hands of the sheriff waiting up there.

“Hold up,” I warn Dan, who is leading the way. “Can we put her down for a sec?”

After carefully lowering her to the ground, I hoist the strap back up my shoulder and start looping my arm through the other one.

“Want me to take that?” he offers, holding out a hand.

I shrug and slip the backpack off again, handing it to him. Who am I to argue if he wants to carry the extra weight?

“Where are they going to lower the basket?” I want to know.

The area right above where we found her is probably not the best location. Dan tilts his hat back, rubbing his hand over his chin as he looks up to scan the ridge.

“Probably best if we wait for the guys to get there. We’ll figure it out then. But for now, let’s move the body to level ground on the other side.”

Once we have that done, I get a little restless just standing around, waiting. So, I grab my camera and go exploring along the base of the cliff, walking toward the flat rock where we found the girl’s remains. I snap a few more shots of the location, as well as up to the ledge above.

As I’m shooting, I move around the rock to the other side. I looked around here yesterday, but with a focus on the body. Now, I pan my camera around, away from the wall and toward where the creek runs, clicking the shutter, until something catches my eye.

I lower the camera and squint, but all I can make out is something light in color against the trunk of a tree. Not quite sure what I’m looking at, I move closer.

When I recognize it, I immediately jump into action, snapping away furiously.

“Dan! I need my kit!”

I probably startled him because in no time at all I hear steps running toward me.

“What is it?” he pants.

Lowering the camera, I point out the bones I spotted.

“I think maybe it’s part of her missing leg.”

I could see how an animal might have dragged off the leg to feed in the shelter of the trees.

“I’m going to need my pack,” I mention to Dan over my shoulder as I approach the bones.

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