Page 68 of Final Escape
He continued on, tensing his muscles to protect the vertebrae in his lower back and counting the steps he took, one by one. Whatever progress he’d been making with his healing was being compromised, along with his chances for returning to rodeo, with every time he took over a white-water float or ended up hiking on these rough trails.And then where will I be, God? Just another time in my life where things are going totally wrong, and there’s no way to stop it.
Twenty minutes later Carrie was still out of sight, but now he thought he could hear faint voices far up ahead.
The trail opened up into a small, grassy meadow strewn with wildflowers in a riot of color—blues, pinks, yellows, violets—set against a backdrop of the snowcapped Rockies rising massive and uncompromising on every side.
He turned slowly, humbled and awed by the contrast of such grandeur and the tiny, delicate rainbow of flowers at his feet. The place seemed to overwhelm his minuscule existence.
Maybe a thousand people had trampled through here before, but being here felt like a message, just for him.Be still,a voice whispered in his heart.And know that I am God.
It was a verse called up from his memories of Sunday school long ago. And that he’d remembered it at this moment, at this perfect time, gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Carrie’s voice drew closer, chattering words he couldn’t make out, and then she appeared at the edge of the meadow with Dante following a few steps behind her.
The man’s gaze darted warily around the open space, and he tentatively came forward another step, as if unwilling to leave the security of the forest behind.
“The trail passed near his cabin,” she called out. “He says he’ll talk to you.”
Logan joined them near several boulders marking the mouth of the trail. “We’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we?”
The old man nodded.
“I promised him something if he’d come with me,” Carrie said. She broke into her backpack and offered Dante a bottle of water and a granola bar. Then she searched farther into the depths of the bag and came up with her palm-size sewing kit, which he took greedily, turning it over and over in his hand.
“Something more if you’ll just stay for a little while,” she said with a soft smile. She sat on one of the boulders and leaned over to pat the next one over. “Here, have a seat.”
He hesitated, then sat, though he looked like a bird on the verge of flight. The miasma of unwashed male and filthy clothing obliterated the fresh scent of pine and wildflowers wafting across the meadow.
“Okay, Logan—fire away.”
“Someone was killed close to Wolf River a few weeks ago,” Logan said slowly.
Dante reared back in alarm. “Wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. No, siree.”
“No, we don’t think you had anything to do with it. But we want to make sure the sheriff doesn’t come up with that idea, either. He’s trying hard to solve this crime, and so are we, but we need help. Did you see or hear anything?”
“I wasn’t there. Somebody saw too much, all right.”
“You did? You saw too much?”
Dante gave a hard single shake of his head.
“Someone else, then? The guy who was killed? Or was someone else there?”
Dante didn’t answer.
“You’ve spent the last few months down close to the Wolf. I’ve seen you along the riverbank any number of times. So why did you suddenly take off and come up here—away from the good fishing? You had to have a reason.”
Silence.
“Were you scared of someone? Did someone see you—maybe the one who killed that man? Were you threatened?”
“Not safe. Time to go.”
“Please, Dante,” Carrie urged. “If you can tell us anything, we’d appreciate it so much.”
Dante silently studied the box in his hand.
“Please?”
