Scene of the Climb (16 page)

“Maggie.” Pops' voice brushed over my forehead as if his soft words were stroking it.

Please don't let this moment vanish. My mouth didn't betray me. I spoke the words in my head.
Pops, I'm here.

“Sweet, sweet Maggie.”

Water spilled from my eyes, cascading down my motionless cheeks where they collided with the lukewarm bathwater.

“Maggie, I'm here.”

I wanted to shout,
Pops, I'm here too!
Words wouldn't form on my lips. Instead, salty tears flooded them.

“It's time to carry on, sweet one. It's time to carry on.”

Feeling surged through my body, burning the tender cells on my skin. From here grief erupted in violent sobs. Jill raced into the bathroom. She stopped midstride when she saw me sobbing, dropped to her knees on the tile floor next to me and stroked my damp hair.

“It's okay, Meg. This is good,” she said over the sound of my wails.

After that night, I spent a chunk of the next week sobbing, attempting to purge grief from my body. It didn't exactly work. Grief stuck with me like a loyal dog, but I learned to walk with it. I learned how to cry in the car and avoid cheesy commercials, especially those with dads hoisting their daughters on their shoulders, or anything by Hallmark. Slowly, I accepted Jill's and Gam's offers of getting out of the apartment.

I channeled my building rage at Mother. Pops' death was her fault. If she hadn't left him, maybe he wouldn't have ridden his bicycle to town. Maybe they'd have met us in Mexico for a week to celebrate my graduation. Instead, my entry into adulthood had come full force. I was a college graduate, without a home, a job or a parent.

Matt cleared his throat expectantly. “You still with me, Megs?”

“Sorry.” I whisked tears from under my eyelids and flipped my attention in his direction. “You're right about Pops. You're right about it all. I'll be more careful, I promise.”

“Whew.” Matt let out a long sigh. “I thought you might bite my head off.”

“Am I that bad?”

“Not at all. Well, maybe sometimes when you get an idea stuck in your head. It's one of the great things about you actually. You're tenacious. You go after things. But on the flip side you can have a tendency to have narrow vision sometimes.”

I blushed at his one-sided compliment. Gam always claims each of us have a yin and yang in terms of our strengths and weaknesses. That they happen to be the polar opposite of each other and our ultimate goal in this life is finding the perfect balance between them.

Hundred-foot evergreen trees stood like soldiers guarding the base of the forest. This was the place Andrew tried to run me off the road. In contrast to their ominous waves in the wind last night, they appeared regal and sturdy in the pollen-filled sunlight.

“Your job is to keep me honest. Deal?” I socked him in the arm.

He faked pain and grinned. “You got it.”

When we reached the parking lot at the base of Angel's Rest, a vision of my beat-up body wrapped in Greg's sweatshirt raced through my head. Had it really only been three days ago I'd been interrogated at this spot? Time was flying at lightning pace. It felt like that was weeks ago.

All the caution tape had been removed from the base of the trail marker. No one would have any idea a crime had occurred here. A stranger venturing up the path wouldn't have to fight the memory of seeing a man's body sailing to his crushing death.
Good God, Meg, what are you thinking?

Maybe this hadn't been the best idea. Not only did the thought of the trail's rocky ledges and switchbacks send a wave of nausea up my esophagus, but I hadn't expected to have a surge of memories push to the forefront of my mind.

I hesitated at the trailhead, casting a wistful look at Matt's truck. I wished there were more cars in the parking lot. Where was everyone? It was Saturday after all. Hopefully the trailhead would fill up soon. Sure, it was daylight and I had Matt with me, but if Andrew really saw me as a threat, what would stop him from coming after us today?

I froze. “Forget it, Matt. This was a stupid idea. I don't know what I was thinking. I can't go back up there.”

Matt grabbed my hand and led me slowly upward. “Come on, Megs. We'll do this together.”

It was amazing how different the trail appeared. Maybe Matt's presence and firm grip helped to subdue my fears. Or it could have been the sunlight and sound of spring finches flitting between the trees.

As we ascended, Matt pointed out a gigantic osprey nest and eagles soaring overhead. We stood to watch them float with ease through the cloudless sky. Matt prided himself on his Boy Scout background. His obsession with nature was in stark contrast to the geek-inspired lifestyle he led. Although I knew this about him, it always surprised me when his ranger roots came seeping to the surface.

He should have been the one working at
Northwest Extreme.
A point verified by the contents of his day pack. An oddly perfect assortment of gadgets. Maybe I should talk to Greg about having him write a nature geek column?

He tracked our pace, distance, ascent and calories burned on an app he'd installed on his iPhone. A set of high-range binoculars were secured in a side pocket of his pack.

“Try these suckers out. I got them a month ago and have been dying for a chance to use them.” He handed me the tiny binoculars.

Adjusting the lenses, I tilted them to the sky. Trees and greenery flashed in front of my eyes, making my head spin. I spotted the eagles above and gasped. I could make out the details of each individual feather as they soared thirty feet above us.

Matt grinned. “Cool, yeah?”

I weighed them in my hands. “Yeah, and light.”

“Technology, my friend. Technology.”

“Listen, I'll admit these are pretty sweet, but when are you ever going to need them in the real world?”

“Today!” Matt beamed and tucked them carefully into the side pocket of his pack.

I huffed as Matt effortlessly sailed over small logs and loose rocks along the trail. He kept glancing back to make sure I was still following him.

“I'm good.” I waved him on with my hand, pausing to catch my breath. “Keep going.”

“You want to jump out in front?” Matt asked. He stopped and waited for me.

“No, no, keep going. You're making me move. If I lead, I'll be too slow.”

Matt shook his head. “You're half my size—literally. Your legs barely come to my knee.”

“I swear, I'm fine. I want to keep going.”

“Well, at least drink this. Your face is bright red.” Matt offered a fresh Gatorade bottle.

The flavor of salty lemon-lime gave my energy a burst. I didn't remember feeling this scorched or sweaty when I was here with the Race the States crew. Of course it had been rainy and windy that day.

Plus, I had trudged along at my own pace. Keeping up with Matt was a challenge, but I didn't want to let him see how much I was struggling.

After another fifteen minutes of switching back and forth on the dirt trail, we came to the first rocky clearing. This, aside from the summit, was my least favorite part of the hike. Today sunlight blazed on the rock-covered exposed cliff. The heat generating from the black rocks was probably enough to fry an egg.

I made the mistake of looking down. My heart hammered in my chest. Please don't let me hyperventilate.

“Follow my lead,” Matt called. “And stay close to the right, okay?”

I nodded. No one, with the exception of Jill and Matt, knew about my deep-seated fear of heights. He tried to play it off like this was a dangerous section of trail, when without me he'd fly over the narrow gravel path on his mountain bike.

I drew in my breath as I cautiously moved onto the loose gravel path. Little rocks kicked under my feet and scattered over the side of the cliff. The sound of them bouncing down the cliff like Planko blocks encouraged me to hurry. This stretch of path ran for about 100 yards. But it felt like a mile to safety on the other side.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Megs?” Matt asked. He stood with one foot propped on a rock. “You look pretty shaky. I think it's too soon to be here after what—happened . . .” He trailed off.

“I'm sure. I've got this. If I don't face my fears I'm gonna end up sitting on Jill's couch eating candy for the next month.”

Matt looked unsure. The sound of a dog barking echoed above. I jumped and let out a little scream.

“This is crazy. You're jumpy. I think we should turn around. Seriously, Megs, you're going to get hurt. Not because of any danger on the trail, but because of your own stubbornness.”

“Please, Matt. Please. I've got to do this. I have to take another look. I'm sorry I'm jumpy. I promise I'll be more careful.”

Matt patted the rock he'd been resting his leg on. “Come sit down for a sec at least?”

Happy for the reprieve, I flung my Recon pack on the ground. It went tumbling toward the edge since it wasn't weighted down with all the extra gear I'd brought along on the first hike. I learned my lesson. Keep it light.

The sight of my pack resting precariously on the side of the cliff made my mind flash to Lenny. How was I ever going to get that image out of my head?

“You all right?” Matt said, offering me half of a Clif Bar.

I declined.

“You look like you're off in space somewhere.” He bent on his knees so his eyes were level with mine. Holding my gaze he squeezed my hand and said, “What's going on with you today? Is it your dad? Are you thinking about Charlie?”

I squeezed his hand for a brief moment and dropped his grasp. “I miss him. It's hard, and with Sheriff Daniels—it's all coming to the surface again. I feel like I owe it to Pops to figure out what happened to Lenny. Maybe it'll clear up some of the mess. . . .” I looked away. “Plus, if I don't, that image of Lenny flying off the summit is going to become permanently implanted in my brain. I didn't like the guy, but I almost feel responsible for him. Does that sound crazy?”

Not meeting my eyes, Matt shook his head and said, “No, not crazy.”

“Gam talks about the connectedness of the Universe all the time. I think because I'm the last person who saw Lenny alive, maybe we're connected in a strange way. I have to figure out who killed him because if I don't, I think I'm going to
make
myself crazy.”

Pulling me to my feet, Matt brushed dirt off my pack and helped me secure it over my shoulders. “Suck it up, little one. We'll get to the bottom of this.”

We continued on at a noticeably slower pace. Matt kindly didn't mention this.

The hard-packed trail wouldn't reveal any footprints of those who treaded before us. After last night's rain, the dirt was solid, under the overhang of high trees. The sun's warmth had baked the trail in an hour.

No other hikers passed by as we ascended. After another ten minutes we came to the spot where I'd seen someone on the deer trail.

“Here, Matt,” I shouted, pointing to the small offshoot of a trail leading deep into the woods. “This is the deer trail. This is where I saw someone and took the photo.”

“Hmm.” Matt dropped his pack. “It's pretty dense. I don't think a photo would show anyone back there.”

“Yeah, and it happened so fast. I caught a flash of red, but couldn't even make out if it was a man or woman. Do you think we should go back there and look around?”

Matt unfastened the side pocket of his backpack and grabbed his binoculars. He squatted to see through the trees and blackberry vines.

“Looks okay to me,” he said, tucking his binoculars away. “We probably won't want to stray too far from where we can see the main trail. It looks like this is a pretty established path, but don't go off of it—got it? These woods are littered with poison oak. That's the last thing you need right now.”

“Got it. Stay on the trail; keep sight of the main path. I can do this.”

We had to crouch in order to avoid hitting our heads on the trees and vines twisting along the deer trail.

The trail was nothing more than a six-inch-wide path worn by herds of deer and other wild game using this route between the upper falls of Multnomah and their burrows deeper in the woods. It was evident humans typically didn't traverse this way.

Matt held long tree branches and prickly vines as we weaved our way deeper beneath the trees. Sunlight disappeared and I lost sight of the main trail.

I had an eerie feeling we were being watched. Stopping at the sound of a squawking bird overhead, I turned slowly in a circle checking to see if anyone was hiding in the thick brush.

A tree snapped and the bushes to my left quaked.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered to Matt.

He held a finger to his lips to silence me and pushed me to my knees with his other hand. Carefully he drew his binoculars out and scanned the area where the bushes had been disturbed. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. The woods were eerily silent. Too silent.

After surveying the area all around us, Matt returned his binoculars to his pack and helped me to my feet.

“Probably a spooked animal. I don't see anything out there.”

Unconsciously I put my hand on my neck to feel whether my pulse rate had slowed. It hadn't. My veins bulged to the beat of my racing blood.

“Do you think we should turn back? I can't see the trail anymore.”

“It's up to you. As long as we stay on this we're fine to follow it a little farther.”

I glanced behind me and agreed. “Okay, how about five more minutes, and if we don't find anything we turn around?”

“Works for me.” Matt plunged ahead through the dense foliage seemingly unfazed.

With every snap of a twig or chirp of a bird my stomach dropped. What if Andrew had followed us again? I couldn't shake the feeling something or someone was stalking us—conveniently buried in the cover of the forest canopy.

About the time I was ready to call it quits and work our way to daylight and the security of a well-traveled trail, Matt stopped in midstride. “Hey, what's that?” He pointed to a low-lying tree branch about a yard off the trail. A tan object dangled from it. Was it a bandana or a ripped shirt?

We made our way closer, and as my eyes focused on the object dangling from the tree I let out an audible gasp.

“Oh my God, Matt, that's Dave's hat!”

“Are you sure?”

I plucked the hat from the tree. It was weathered—clearly it had been out here for days. Dirt and leaves were caked to it. It felt damp to the touch, but the mesh material it was made of was waterproof. I brushed off the debris. There was no mistaking it was Dave's hat. That could only mean one thing; Dave had been out on this trail. But why?