Page 69 of High Frequency

The two of us are quickly mounted up and retrace our steps to the hiking trail, which we then follow farther up the mountain. At one point, Wolff lifts his hand and brings Judge, his mount, to a halt as he appears to be listening. I strain as well and pick up what sounds like a series of snaps. But when seconds later two deer dart across the trail from left to right, I realize that’s probably what we heard.

Wolff lowers his hand and clicks his tongue, urging Judge in motion. At the same time, I nudge Will’s flank with my heels, which is all he needs to follow the horse in front.

We haven’t gone far when the two-way radio on my hip lets out a loud squeal. It startles the horses and I have a hard time getting the normally laid-back Will under control.

“What the fuck was that?” Wolff wants to know.

“Some kind of feedback.”

Immediately after, Bo’s voice comes in over the radio.

“Yo, did you guys get that high squeak?”

“Yup. Was that you?” I fire back.

“Hell no,”is his response.

“Sloane, it’s Dan. Come in.” I wait a few beats for a response before I repeat it, “Sloane, are you there? Come in.”

“Jillian says if she’s in that secondary gorge, she’s not gonna hear you.”

Right.

“Ten-four.”

We continue on the trail for a bit when Wolff points out something to his left. It looks like a game trail—a naturally formed path wildlife travels along—but through the trees I can see a bit of a clearing.

“Is that it?”

If that’s the edge of the gorge, it literally is only a few hundred feet from the trail.

“One way to find out,” Wolff suggests, guiding Judge onto the narrow track.

When we get to the ridge, I dismount and, leaving Will standing at the edge of the trees, make my way to the edge to look down.

It’s not nearly as deep as our original entry point into the gorge. This strip of bare rock is significantly smaller than where we left Bo and the woman, but the fact it’s closer to the trail and less deep, makes this a better spot. There are certainly plenty of big trees that would allow us to rig up a descent/ascent system that could handle the heavier traffic. The only—but significant—drawback, is that we are right above where I can see remains poking out of the ferns.

What I don’t see is any sign of Sloane.

“She’s not down there,” I tell Wolff.

“Maybe she’s on her way back the other way?” he suggests.

I turn away from the edge and kick something on the ground that makes a metallic sound. Scanning the ground in front of me, my eyes catch on a small, shiny cylinder. I bend down and pick it up.

“A shell. Rifle.”

Immediately Wolff dismounts and walks over, his hand on his sidearm as he scans our surrounding.

“There’s another one. And there…”

He indicates two more shell casings, keeping his voice low as well. He bends down and pulls a tissue from his pocket, picking them up. I walk over and hand him the one I have. He folds it into the tissue with the others and tucks them in his pocket.

“Those sounds we heard…gunfire?” I guess.

“With a suppressor, could be,” he concedes, again looking into the trees surrounding us. “Doesn’t look like they hung around.”

I swing around and once more scan the gorge below, my heart beating in my throat, and anger burning in my gut.

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