Page 30 of Canyon Killer
By the time the day ended, she was jumpy and irritable enough that everyone was leaving her alone. She debated retreating to her apartment for a bubble bath and a bottle of wine—or maybe just a pan of brownies. When, instead, she received a text from search and rescue, it was like being pricked with a pin, some of the pressure of the wound she had been nursing all day relieved.
The call was for a missing hiker. “Craig Boston is seventy, six feet, one inch tall, with long gray hair and blue eyes.” Deputy Ryker Vernon read off the description from his phone to the volunteers who gathered at a local trail head. “He left home wearing navy hiking pants and a black T-shirt and carrying a blue daypack. He may also be wearing a red windbreaker and a Houston Astros ball cap. He left home this morning a little after eight a.m. and told his neighbor he intended to hike the Bridle Reins Trail at the base of Mount Wiley. We’ve verified that his car is at the trailhead parking area.”
“Any history of medical problems or dementia?” Danny asked.
Ryker shook his head. “The neighbor says no. He hikes every week. Her words when I talked to her were, ‘He could out-hike you any day of the week, Deputy.’”
This brought a few laughs from the assembled searchers, but they quickly sobered. Danny spread out a map on the hood of the search and rescue Jeep, and they gathered around him.
“The trail gains eight hundred feet in elevation in the first mile, traveling pretty much straight up the slope,” he said, indicating a highlighted route on the map. “There’s a split at the one-mile point where the Laughing Johnny Mine Trail comes in from the east. It’s possible to take that trail up, connect with the Silver Chip Trail and make a loop back to a point two miles up the Bridle Reins Trail.
“It’s eight miles round trip,” Danny continued, “but if Mr. Boston is the hiker his neighbor says he is, he might have taken that route. Or he may have continued straight up the Bridle Reins Trail, which ends at an overlook at about the three-mile point. The last section of the trail is less well-defined. It’s possible he got off the main path and ended up somewhere he didn’t want to be. Maybe even cliffed out.” He raised his head. “We’ll divide into teams of three and search all the possibilities.”
Bethany was assigned to a team with Caleb Garrison and Grace Wilcox. “I wonder if Craig Boston is Gerald Boston’s nephew,” she said as they started up the trail. Their assignment was to hike the Laughing Johnny loop from the west. Carter and Dalton were in the group that would hike from the east.
“He might be,” Caleb said. “When you find him, you can ask him.”
“Who is Gerald Boston?” Grace asked.
“He’s one of the people whose skeleton was found in that cave in Humboldt Canyon,” Bethany said.
“He and his wife,” Caleb said. “A sad story.”
“They were murdered, right?” Grace asked. “I remember now.”
“Yes. I’d like to ask Craig about his relative, provided he’s in any shape to talk.”
Caleb led the way, setting a brisk pace up the trail. Bethany did her best to keep up, though the steep pitch soon had her panting. She reminded herself that if Craig was injured or ill, they needed to reach him as soon as possible. Focusing on this idea—and the possibility that he might provide some answers to the mystery of what had happened to Gerald and Abby—kept her going.
After they turned onto the Laughing Johnny Mine Trail the path became less steep, and Bethany was able to catch her breath. They halted for a drink, and she gratefully pulled out her water bottle.
“How is Ian?” Caleb asked.
“He’s okay. Busy with construction.”
“Have you seen it yet? The via ferrata?”
“Not yet.” She didn’t elaborate.
They continued up the trail. “Craig!” Caleb shouted. “Mr. Boston!”
“Mr. Boston!” Bethany echoed. But no answer came.
They had been hiking about an hour when the trail was blocked by the massive trunk of a fallen fir. The trunk was almost as wide as Bethany was tall, and dozens of branches poked up from it like porcupine quills.
“We’ll have to go around,” Grace said.
“Which is probably what Craig Boston did,” Caleb said.
“He might have lost the trail and been unable to get back,” Bethany said, remembering their training on the behavior of lost persons.
“Let’s look for any sign he came this way.” Caleb moved to one side of the tree, while Grace and Bethany moved around the other side. Bethany studied the ground, looked for a crushed branch or a foot impression in the leaves or even a thread from a piece of clothing caught on a branch. Grace walked ahead of her, doing the same.
“Over here.” Grace stopped and pointed to the low-hanging branch of a young spruce that had been broken off. “It was probably hanging down in his way. He’s pretty tall, right? So he broke it off.” She raised her voice. “Caleb, we’ve found something.”
He examined the broken branch and agreed it might be an indication that Craig had headed this way. They moved more carefully through the underbrush now, watching for signs that Craig had passed this way and for hazards such as holes, uneven rocks or sudden drop-offs.
“How far have we walked?” Bethany asked after they had been walking a while.
