Page 38 of High Frequency

Crouching down, I notice the foot appears to be missing and the lower leg is separated from the upper leg at the knee joint. I quickly take a few close-ups.

“Here.”

Dan hands me my backpack, and I retrieve a pair of gloves and a large evidence bag. Then I carefully collect the bones.

“These should probably go with the body.”

As I get to my feet, I cradle the evidence bag in my arms. When I swing around to return to where we left the body bag, my foot slips on a root. If not for Dan’s steadying hand on my elbow, I might’ve lost my balance, or worse, dropped the remains. As if burned, I surge forward and out of his reach.

This is nuts. Here I am, holding a body part, and yet my body virtually sizzles at his touch.

A sharp, high frequency whistle echoes through the gorge.

“They’re here,” Dan announces.

While he gets his team on the radio to determine the best location, I head over to the black bag and unzip it, placing the missing bones in with the rest of her. I wish I’d found her foot as well, but who knows where that was dragged. I would love to spend some time looking for it, but the foot holds twenty-six bones, most of them small, and they could be spread out anywhere by now.

At this point, I think it’s more important to find out who this girl is.

I slowly zip the bag back up, taking one last look at her remains. Something seems off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. When I catch sight of Dan approaching, I quickly close it all the way and get to my feet.

“I warned them about the leg bones. They’re lowering the basket over there.”

He indicates a spot halfway between the arrow he painted and the rock plateau where I nearly fell on my face. I see someone leaning over the edge, it looks like Bo. The next moment the basket is tilted over the edge and is lowered slowly.

Once the basket is on even ground, I help Dan lift the bag in, but I leave strapping the remains in tightly to him.

When a few moments later, the basket is pulled up, I feel restless. But I force myself to watch until I see her disappear out of sight at the top. Then I resolutely turn to Dan.

“Let’s pack up and get going.”

We’re silent as we break up camp, saddle and load up the horses, and start heading back downstream. I try to enjoy the ride but my ass hurts and my mind is still trying to figure out what it was that seemed off about the remains.

We’re a little over an hour into our return trip when a lightbulb goes off.

“Which leg was missing?” I ask Dan.

He has a puzzled look on his face but answers anyway.

“Left. Why?”

My stomach shoots up in my throat.

“Because I’m pretty sure the remains I collected this morning were from a right leg.”

Twelve

Dan

It’s been forty-eight hours since I’ve been here, but the change is pretty dramatic.

The log shell was stacked and we’d almost been done putting up the trusses, but I didn’t expect the roof to be up in just a couple of days.

It’s nice. It cost a whack, but I’m really digging how the slate gray steel panels look against the rugged logs.

I opted for a simple two-level design, mainly because it was the most economic use of space without taking up too much land. It was important to me to leave enough room for a small paddock and a barn without taking down too many trees. The second floor has three large dormers, and the windows on the front—main and second floor—will be large to allow a clear view of the Fisher River and the mountains beyond.

It already looks like a proper house on the outside, even though we haven’t yet started on the inside.

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