Canyon Echoes

by Miranda Nading

  She wanted to move past the awkwardness that she had caused. “So what do we do now?”

  “I'm going to take you home. I'll park where my truck where it can't be seen, but where I can watch your place. As soon as I can get signal, I will put the word out to pick her up. Until I know she's safely out of the way, I'll keep an eye on you.” He turned and looked at her, and the heat in his eyes made her feel like a heel. “Whether you want me to or not.”

  31

  Gracie's comment about Hudson's wife had come as a shock. The warmth that had been growing between them could not have grown any colder if they had been doused with the ice water in the rivers below them.

  It had hurt like hell, especially coming from her. If anyone else had been stupid enough to say such a thing to him, he'd have dumped them in the river and left them for bear bait. He wanted to be angry with her, but she hadn't said anything he hadn't told himself every day for the past five years.

  She sat in the seat next to him, sullen and silent in the darkness. He wanted to say he was sorry for pushing, prying, and trying to get her to talk about her sister. Getting information out of people was his job and he was good at it. With her, though, it seemed like he was all thumbs. Nothing he did or said was professional.

  He'd crossed more than a few lines with her. As soon as he pulled her back from the Brink of the Lower Falls, he should have loaded her up in the truck and taken her back to Mammoth. Instead, he'd held her in his arms. He'd taken her to West Yellowstone and had coffee with her, let her see evidence, and pushed for information that had nothing to do with the case.

  Some of it did, he thought, soothing his conscience. The information she had given him, gave him an idea of what drove Julie. That, along with the information he'd found on Lester's laptop and the witness Billie had found at the bar, gave them enough to pick her up for questioning.

  None of that explained the overwhelming desire to kiss Gracie when he'd pulled her across the seat at Madison. Or why he was so desperate for her to understand, to look in her eyes without seeing the accusation or blame.

  “You were right,” he sighed. He had never felt the need to explain himself to anyone. Even the investigators in charge of his case five years earlier had hit a brick wall. Mike had loved Janette, but he'd never pried, never forced him to confront that day. For some reason, he needed to tell Gracie.

  He chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for her to say something. When she just continued to sit statue still, he forged on. “Every year, since before we were married, Janette and I climbed the ice falls. One, in particular. We'd take snowmobiles up Dunraven and make a weekend of it camping, exploring. Climbing.

  “Both of our fathers had worked in the park since they were young. Janette's taught her to climb. It was second nature for her. She went up first, paving the way. I followed on the lines she'd set.

  “We were about two hundred feet up when I heard her scream. I looked up in time for her to slam into me. We were in free fall for about four seconds. When my line snapped tight, it was like being jerked up by my ribcage. The force of it yanked her out of my arms. I grabbed at her but it was too late. I dropped her. So yeah, I killed my wife.”

  “Jesus, Hudson,” Gracie breathed. “I'm so sorry.”

  “A lot of people have dreams about falling, but in mine, I'm looking at her face, hearing her screams, but I'm watching her fall all over again. I wake up when she hits, thinking I'm having a heart attack. Cold sweats, shaking. Five years. And I still see it like it's happening right now.”

  What Gracie didn't realize, was that she wasn't just a witness to Julie's crimes—she was a potential target. Whether she hated him now or not, he couldn't let anything happen to her. He wouldn't lose anyone else. Not if he could help it. As soon as they approached Canyon, he hit redial to call Dave. They needed to lock this crazy bitch up so Gracie could move on.

  Dave's phone went straight to voicemail again. He knew they were probably still busy at the cabin, but it did nothing to settle his nerves.

  He took the same route toward the upper loop, circling around by way of the Dunraven road. Instead of driving on around to the upper loop, he cut passed the dilapidated ball field, shut his headlights off and drove into the lower loop. Another mobile home shelter stood on the opposite side of the curve. Empty, and now used as a pavilion, Hudson backed in and shut off the truck. From where they sat, they had a great view of the front yard.

  Gracie leaned forward in her seat, staring through the dark towards her coach. “Hudson, I left the lights on when I headed for the falls. Someone's been in my house.”

  He let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and though he couldn't see the front door, the gate on the thigh-high fence was wide open. Darkened windows stood empty, reflecting the meager light that filtered through the trees. “Your dogs were up on the dash when I was here earlier. Was that unusual?”

  “No,” she whispered. Fear crept into her voice as she reached out for his hand. He knew he shouldn't, but when he felt her hand brush against his, he wrapped his fingers around hers. The cab of the truck was warm, but her hand felt like ice. “When I'm not home they usually stay on the dashboard. They like to watch the world outside, they watch for me to come home.”

  “Alright,” he pulled her close. “Change of plans. Until we find out that Julie is in custody, you're staying with me.”

  “Hudson—”

  “I'm not going to argue with you. I'm not going to let you get hurt.”

  “My dogs, Hudson, I need to make sure they're okay.”

  “I realize they're probably like your kids or something, but they're not worth your life.”

  “They are so much more than family to me.” Her hand left his and grabbed a handful of his jacket. Panic filled her eyes and he was sure if he pushed, she'd jump out of the truck and go off without him. “They've taken care of me, protected me. Without them, I would jump at every shadow. I wouldn't be able to sleep without them to watch over me. I can't explain it! I can't turn my back on Fred and Ginger, not after everything they've done for me!”

  “All right!” he hissed. This was a bad idea. It wasn't just his gut telling him to put the truck in drive and head for Mammoth—he felt it in his bones. She was getting herself worked up. If he didn't check on the dogs, she would do something stupid. “All right, just stay here and keep the doors locked. Hunker down in the seat. Don't make a target of yourself.”

  “I don't know how they're going to react to you. I think I should come with you, they'll come to me and we can leave.”

  “Absolutely not, keep your butt in the truck, Gracie. I mean it.”

  Climbing out of the truck, he hit the automatic lock and started to shut the door before he leaned over and stopped it from closing. “They're Fred and Ginger?” He did a double take, “As in Astaire and Steves?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, she grinned, half embarrassed and said, “Hudson…Thank you.”

  “Thank me after we get back on the road to Mammoth.”

  Moving back up the road, the way they had come in, Hudson crossed the road, and climbed the wall of packed snow. Snow wasn't as deep at the base of the trees, but he still found himself slogging through. It would have been faster just to follow the road, but he didn't want to paint a bulls-eye on the spot where Gracie waited.

  At the edge of the tree line, next to the road on the other side of the loop, he stood, cloaked in night shadows, and watched the sparse scattering of motorhomes and fifth-wheels for signs of life. A chill crept up his spine, raising the fine baby hairs on the back of his neck.

  He felt watched. Sure it was just Gracie, tracking his progress through the trees because she had seen where he entered; he nevertheless pulled his sidearm out of its holster. Turning back towards Gracie's coach, alone on its end of the loop, a dark maw sat in a backdrop of white. The door to the motorhome stood open. The gloom inside kept him from getting a good look.

  Afraid of being visible too long, he ran across the road, through the ope
n gate and into the door, staying low and moving fast. It went against everything he knew, every instinct he had, to run through a darkened doorway without backup, without caution.

  No one assaulted him as he came to a stop in the living room, kneeling and turning to try to get a look down the hall. Feeling a little more secure, he stepped to the front and checked both seats before looking under the table. Motorhomes had few places big enough for a human to hide.

  With the front of the rig empty, he found food, knickknacks and dishes scattered from one end to the other. It was a miracle he hadn't tripped over something, scared himself and shot a hole through her wall. The air had a spicy aroma to it that wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was as if someone had set out a pie or sweetbread to cool and forgot about it.

  With his gun held at the ready in a two-handed grip, he eased up the step and around the corner that led to the bathroom and bedroom. In any other situation, he'd check the bathroom first, but from where he stood in the hallway, he had a clear view of the bed-filled space. It looked as though a hurricane had come through. A vacuum cleaner was upside down, leaning against the doors to the single closet.

  He tossed the unused flashlight to the bed, transferred his gun to his right hand and reached under it, turning the knob as slowly as he could. When he was sure it was unlatched, he threw it wide, blocking off the entrance to the front room. The small space and open shower curtain let him search the room at a glance. No one lurked within its confines.

  Wanting to remain as quiet as possible, yet worried about Gracie's reaction when he came back empty handed, he whistled softly. “Fred? Ginger?”

  A soft whine answered him, but he couldn't pinpoint the direction it came from. He called again and the quiet cry grew more frantic. Getting down close to the floor, he called, “Come on Fred, talk to me. Help me find you.”

  A soft bark floated to him, seemingly coming from the other side of the room. “Impossible.” There didn't appear to be any space between the wall and the bed. Focused on that side of the room when the bark came again, he knew he wasn't imagining it.

  Six inches of space rested between his side of the mattress and the wall of the closet at the head of the bed. It slid easily when he pulled on it, moving the full distance before the wall blocked it. Against his better judgment, he holstered his weapon and climbed onto the bed, peeking over the edge.

  A dark alley had opened on the other side of the bed, ran the length of the bed. “Are you guys in there?”

  This time, the whining was joined by a small face as one of the dogs stood up on its back feet, pawing at the edge of the mattress. He reached down and picked up the puffball, learning at once that it was the boy. “You must be Fred.”

  The dog launched a sloppy wet assault on his face before spinning to paw at the edge of the bed and taking up a groaning, howling, barking monologue, no louder than his own whisper. “Okay, okay. You're as worked up as your mommy.” In answer, the dog turned, looked him in the eye and commenced a silent bark that sounded an awfully lot like 'hop, hop'. It took both hands to move the squirmy little thing out of his way and hold him long enough to get his face back over the secret space. “I'm working on it, little one.”

  No face popped up to replace Fred, but a low mewling drifted up in the darkness. He reached toward the sound and a small, tentative tongue gave him kisses. “Come on, little girl.”

  When Hudson tried to pick her up, she yelped, squealing as if she were in pain. He let her go and she quieted, letting Fred's growls meet his ears. “Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt her.”

  He tried again, gingerly touching her to find out where the damage was. It felt like a back leg, “What did that nasty woman do to you, honey?” He leaned in as far as he could get, using one hand to brace her hurt leg while he slid the other one underneath her.

  Fred was still growling—issuing a warning to be gentle with his sweetheart—as Hudson pulled her out of the shadows. He scooted back, pulling his arms up and bracing his elbows on the bed to get his knees back under him. His elbow, next to Fred, soaked up hot moisture. Still growling, Fred had lost control of his bladder on the bed.

  “Really?” Hudson looked up, intent on scolding the growling dog when he realized Fred wasn't looking at him, but past him. Dropping Ginger, he spun to find a dark form standing next to the bed. Before he could grab his weapon from the holster, or even kick out, something flashed to the right before making contact with his head.

  His skull bounced off the wall at the foot of the bed before the world began to go dark. As it faded away, he could hear Ginger, screaming in pain. Fred barked furiously, trying in vain to protect his girl and the dumb human who hadn't been paying attention to what he'd been trying to tell him.

  32

  Hunkered down in the seat, just far enough to see her home over the dashboard, Gracie was alarmed to see a dark form race through the yard after Hudson. She trusted him to be careful, didn't think he'd let someone sneak up on him, but after several long moments of breathless waiting, nothing happened.

  Frustrated by the angle of the coach, she couldn't see the front door through the moon-glare on the windows. Alarm bloomed into panic as she waited for something, anything to happen. She loved her dogs, but she had put Hudson in danger by sending him in to look for them.

  Unlocking the doors, not bothering to be silent, she threw the door open and ran down the lane to her coach. The door stood open, the interior dark but not silent. She skidded to a stop, scattering gravel and listening to her dogs whining and barking inside the gloom of her home.

  Hudson had been armed, but she hadn't heard a gunshot, shouts, or the slightest sound of a struggle. If he had taken Julie prisoner, he would have turned on the lights. The need for secrecy, at that point, would have been moot.

  Lifting her foot to take a step forward, a hard click from behind her made her blood run as cold as the mountain air. She wasn't a cop like Hudson, but she had handled her own weapon enough to know a hammer being pulled back when she heard it. “Where's Hudson?”

  “Is that his name?” Julie asked from behind her. “He's no longer a problem.”

  “Please,” Gracie begged. “Please let me see him.”

  Fingers, bone-hard as talons grabbed her neck from behind, dug in and yanked her backwards. With her face pressed close to Gracie's ear, her breath hot against her skin, Julie ignored her question. “We're alone now, Gracie. You've got some explaining to do.”

  “He figured you out,” Gracie couldn't believe she was taunting her, but her mouth seemed to have decided to run without permission. “Everyone knows it's you.”

  Julie, her face still pressed close, laughed. “I doubt it. They're all still busy with the bonfire I lit for them. But it won't be long now. That's why we're going for a little hike.”

  Julie pushed her forward, towards the back of the coach and shoved her head forward. At her feet sat two sets of snowshoes. She recognized their bright orange color. “Those are Kristi's and Corny's.” A tear slid down her cold cheek. “Why are you doing this? What happened to us?”

  Julie yanked her back, pressing Gracie's face against her own so hard that Gracie could feel the sharp edges of Julie's teeth as she spoke. “Your lies! You, Kari, Kristi—you all turned on me after everything I've done for you!”

  “I didn't—”

  Before she could finish, Julie shoved her hard to the ground. “Put them on!”

  Without the proper boots, the bindings were loose on her feet. Gracie pulled them as tight as she could, hoping they would not make her too clumsy to take an opportunity if it presented itself.

  Julie stepped into the other pair and pointed at them with the gun, as if to say 'get on with it'. Even as Gracie's mind raced for ways to sabotage the tie-in, Julie thumped her on the back of the head. “Tight.”

  With their snowshoes as secure as she could get them, Julie gestured towards the snow-covered alley behind the motorhome. “No sudden moves.”

  Gracie looked at her home one
more time, willing Hudson to be okay, before she turned and started a clumsy duck walk toward the woods on the other side of the small clearing.

  There was a few seconds of hesitation before Julie followed. With distance between them, Julie had no doubt checked her bindings to make sure Gracie hadn't done anything stupid. She thought about using that brief opening to make a run for it. Even in proper footgear, snowshoes were a nightmare to rush in. The loose fitting things on her feet would have landed her face down in the snow. With her luck, a broken ankle would be added to the insult.

  “Where're we going?”

  “Not as far as Sulphur Caldron,” Julie answered, a smile coloring her voice. “But far enough you might want to save your breath.”

  Gracie was pretty sure she knew what Hell would be like; three miles through snowpack, at night, with nothing to guide her but a gun in her back. The stretch of woodland between the RV campground and the Canyon-Norris road was clogged with trees and pitch. What little moonlight had found its way into the campground had been muted by trees that pressed close together.

  At the road, meadows opened up before her and to her right, glistening like diamond dust beneath the ethereal light. She looked back at Julie, who pointed to the field on the other side. “You know the way to the Winter Keeper's. Get moving.”

  The Winter Keeper, also her boss in Maintenance, stayed in the park year round, near the corrals. Not sure how close they would get to his small cabin, she didn't think she could risk calling out to wake him, even if they walked right past it. Not with a woman she'd once loved, and now feared, aiming a gun at her.

  The meadow on the other side of the road was quite flat, the snow packed and solid. Across the meadow was the only chance she might have, a small rise made treacherous to climb by the winter cover. If she hoped to get away from Julie and get back to Hudson, Fred, and Ginger, she would have to make a move there.