Canyon Echoes

by Miranda Nading

  Earlier that evening, she'd been ready to throw herself over the Lower Falls in order to end this nightmare. Now, she wanted more than anything to live and make it back to her babies. And Hudson, she admitted to herself. It seemed foolish to deny it now. The idea that Hudson had died believing she didn't care about him, left her feeling hollow.

  Trudging across the tundra of the Cascade Creek Meadow, she felt guilty for snapping at him, for the hurt she'd caused. Though he had been wrong on every point, she knew he had only been trying to help. He had genuinely believed what he said and she couldn't fault him for that. No more than she could understand her own antagonistic, overreaction to him.

  Right up until that point, she had felt closer to him than she'd ever felt to anyone but Julie. More like a surrogate mother, she had loved Julie, had depended upon her. With Hudson, it was something different, something new. Something she would never know or understand now, because Julie had taken him away from her.

  Shivering from cold, and emotions that her mind refused to acknowledge, Gracie took stock of the white hill in front of them. She felt disconnected, distanced from the pain and heartache of the past forty-eight hours. An important connection in her wiring had been severed; leaving her wrung out and empty. Some small part of her was disturbed by that strange barrenness.

  Picking out a path through the section of woods where the trees pressed in close, she hoped to use them to her advantage. If she could just surprise Julie, she might be able to disarm her long enough to make a run for it.

  If she held out. Only a fraction of the way to the Winter Keeper's, her legs burned from the effort it took to keep the ill-fitting shoes on her feet and free of snow.

  33

  “We should have heard from him by now.” David threw his hat in the back of his truck. It was the only outlet he could think of to vent his frustration—because everything else was part of the crime scene.

  Billie soaked the end of an old rag and wiped her face. It did little more than smear the black soot around, so she gave it up and drank the rest of the bottle before answering. “If Hudson says Gracie didn't do it, then she didn't do it.”

  The bottled water supplied by the fire crew did little to quench his thirst, but David downed one right after the other. Two sets of cabins lay in steaming ruin. What the fire hadn't managed to destroy, the hundreds of thousands of gallons of water the crew dumped on it, had. “You're too damned new to get an opinion, rookie.”

  “Don't get pissy with me, just because you're worried about Hudson.” She took a drink and flipped her bottle so the little bit of water remained hit David in the face.

  “So despite her file, you think she's innocent, too?”

  “I don't know that innocent is the word I would choose to describe her.” She gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, but David thought she looked uneasy.

  Before she could elaborate, a shout rang out on the other side of the complex. “We've got a live one!”

  By the time they got to the site, most of the fire crew had converged on the shattered corner where the chief thought the blast had originated. Most of the men worked on lifting a collapsed wall, while two had wormed their way underneath. Legs clad in yellow with reflective stripes stuck out at odd angles. David was fully aware of the risk they were taking while the wall teetered dangerously on edge, before the men got it up and away from them.

  It took everything David had to keep from pushing his way through. Next to him, Billie fidgeted, ready to bolt, wanting only to help. Both of them knew the men knew what they were doing and they didn't need rangers getting in their way.

  Putting a hand on Billie's shoulder to settle her down, David waited until they were given the signal to enter the area. A bathtub had been ripped loose and tossed like a child's toy. One bare leg stuck out from beneath the overturned tub. The skin was burned, blackened, and it was twisted at an odd angle.

  The top half of one paramedic vanished under the tilted ceramic tub. “Tourniquet is in place. IV in place.”

  Though the leg had suffered serious burns, the tub had protected the rest of the woman. Enough for them to recognize her as Kari Clancy, Canyon's wild woman and one of the four suspect members of the Canyon Crew. One look at her head and face told them all it would be a miracle if she made it out of the park.

  The paramedic hesitated with the oxygen mask. Her nose and one cheek had been shattered. David couldn't tell if the man was afraid of hurting her, or afraid the blood would fill the cup. He ripped the plastic cup off and slipped the tube into the corner of her mouth. Pale blue eyes were wide under the glare of the emergency lights.

  God in heaven, David thought, she's awake. She feels everything. David jumped in his skin as the radio on his shoulder burst to life. “Life Flight en route,” The dispatcher announced. “ETA five minutes.”

  When Kari was settled on the gurney, they pushed her towards the ambulance and the paramedic keyed his mic. “Acknowledged. Life Flight in five.”

  Billie came to her senses first, bolting forward and blocking the gurney. “Kari, can you hear me?”

  “Ranger!” The same paramedic who had crawled under the tub snapped and stepped forward as if he would shove Billie back. “We need to get her to the main parking area.”

  David caught his arm and yanked him back a step. “We only need a minute.”

  “She doesn't have a minute!”

  Ignoring the paramedic, David leaned over her, meeting that tortured gaze. “Who did this to you? Was it Gracie O'Dowdy?”

  Kari shook her head in the negative and it cost her dearly. Her bloody face was a mask of pain and her eyes rolled back to show only white. David, hating himself for doing it, grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Who?”

  She tried to talk around the pain but he couldn't make it out. Billie shouted, no more than an inch from her face. “Was it one of your group? Kristie? Julie?”

  She gave a weak nod of her head before her body stiffened and they were both shoved back. “Cardiac arrest! Go, go, go!”

  “Who do we have at the RV park?” David asked, and then turned to Billie as they paramedics loaded Kari into the meat wagon and began CPR.

  Billie looked as stunned as he felt. “What have we done?”

  “Billie!” David snapped, jerking her around to look at him. “Who do we have watching the loops?”

  “You saw the explosion, David,” she shouted back. “We're all here! Wait!” she yelled as he took off running. “Where are you going?”

  “Round 'em up, Billie. We're going to tear the park apart if we have to. No one gets in or out.”

  As she started bellowing orders behind him, he started his truck, threw it into gear, and grabbed the radio. “Dispatch, Ranger Matthews.”

  “Go for dispatch, David.”

  “We need all hands on deck, Gwenn. Call the Deputy Ranger. All points on Kristi Montgomery and Julie Haeussler. They are to be considered armed and dangerous.”

  “This is Erickson. Status report.”

  “One survivor on site, Sir. She has confirmed that the suspect we've been looking for is one of these two women.”

  “Where is Foster? What about the O'Dowdy girl?”

  How in the hell was he supposed to answer that without hanging himself and Hudson out to dry? The shit had hit the fan. After this, there was no way the killer would just slip quietly into the night and out of the park. It was just going to get worse. And where in the hell was Hudson? “I believe he located information indicating that Gracie O'Dowdy is a potential target, but I've been unable to contact him, Sir.”

  “Clear the employee loops and lock them down. Checkpoints are being placed at every intersection as we speak. With orders to hold Foster and contact me, should anyone see him. I'm on my way to your location.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Come on, Hudson. Where are you, man?

  34

  Hudson woke with warm wet tongues caressing his face and hand. Surprised into moving, pain flared thoug
h his skull, ripping his head apart from his right cheek to his temple. The barking and whining had stopped. The only sound was the rattle of the furnace in the other room. It did little to fight off the cold that had seeped in.

  With the dogs pressed close, cuddling with him for warmth, he searched for a way to get up without causing Ginger—or himself—more pain. Dizzy, a wave of nausea swept through him as he finally pushed up to a sitting position. Touching the side of his face felt as if he'd just stabbed himself in the eye. Though dark, there was no mistaking the sticky blood coating his fingers.

  “Gracie.” His throat was dry and raw, his voice no stronger than a hoarse whisper, yet it still sent a jackhammer tearing through his skull. Disoriented, unsteady on his feet, he leaned on the walls and table to get to the front door. One foot caught on the edge of the bench seat at the table and he fell, face first, to the ground outside where he puked.

  Leaning back on his haunches, he shook his head, making it swim. Clenching his eyes shut, he opened them again after a few seconds hoping the world would hold steady. Everything he looked at was offset with an identical twin.

  Turning to close the door, he found Fred staring at him, his head down on his front paws. In the moonlight, the circles around his eyes were dark, moist. “Don't give me that look!” Hudson croaked. “We're not done yet, just… need a minute to unscramble the eggs.”

  Taking a deep breath, holding his head as still as he could, he pushed up from the ground and closed the door. Every step towards the gate in the fence had his stomach rising and falling as if he were deep-sea fishing with a nasty case of seasickness. He took deep breaths through his nose, trying to keep what little was left in his stomach right where it was.

  In the road, moving slowly around the edge of the motorhome to get a line of sight on his truck, he dropped to his knees. The passenger side door stood open, the bright light from the dome revealed an empty interior. Like cold water on a sleeping man, his head began to clear. Still on his knees, he turned, searching for footprints in the snow.

  Light, harsh and bright as the sun, stabbed at him. Clenching his eyes shut again, he held up his hand to protect himself from the riot of pain it inflicted. “Hudson?”

  The sun-brilliant light died, replaced by a smaller light sweeping the ground as it moved toward him. “Julie has Gracie,” he sputtered, trying to force his eyes to line up the two David's that walked toward him.

  “Jesus,” David whistled as he knelt down to get a look at Hudson. “She did this? Roadblocks are up all over the park. She won't get far. We need to get you to the ambulance.”

  The thump-thump-thump of a helicopter filled the valley as it sailed overhead. Close to the ground, the pressure of its passage seemed to beat in time with the heartbeat pushing against the inside of his skull. Hudson grabbed David's jacket as he tried to stand, pulling him back down to the ground. “I'm fine, but if she sees a helicopter, she'll kill Gracie.”

  “We can't stop it, Hudson. Kari was alive, barely. They're here for her. And you've got blood in your eye, asshole. You're not fine.”

  Pushing to his feet, Hudson walked towards his truck. He stooped over to grab a handful of snow to press to his damaged cheek and almost overbalanced as his brain seemed to slide forward and hit the front of his skull. With the icepack pressed painfully to his head, he searched the ground for fresh tracks. They led him back to Gracie's coach.

  “Asshole? Is that anyway to talk to an injured man?”

  “Hudson, you need to at least see a paramedic.”

  Hudson tried to glare at him, realized his eye was swelling shut and returned to his search. “I will, as soon as we find Gracie.”

  David's sigh was loud and brimming with frustration, but it was the end of the argument. “What do you need me to do?”

  Walking around the small dog yard, Hudson found what he needed. Waffling tracks littered the area at the back of the coach before moving into the woods. “Julie's car still at her bus?”

  “Yeah, it hasn't moved. And help is on the way to search the motorhomes and surrounding area. How long since she clobbered you? Do you think she's already gone?”

  “No idea. But she's not going to run. She's going to ground somewhere. Somewhere they can be alone.”

  “Where are you going?”

  By the time Hudson opened the door to his truck, his snowball icepack had melted. “Tracks lead out into the woods. She's either going to circle back, hit the service shop between here and the road, or she's heading to the main road. I'm going to check the road for tracks, I want you to drive through the service loop, look for snowshoe tracks. Gracie's dogs are in her RV. One of them is hurt bad. Take care of them and radio me if you find anything.”

  “Just be sure you do the same, boss.” David reached in the window and gripped Hudson's arm. “I don't want to find you face down in the snow somewhere.”

  Hudson squeezed David's forearm to say thanks and put the truck in drive. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but if Gracie was still alive, he was running out of time. Moving too fast on the icy roads, he gave the brake pedal a gentle tap and slid around the first curve.

  Blue and red lights lit up the night through the trees, painting a mosaic on the lingering snowdrifts as they flew past him. Some hit the brakes, throwing up gravel as they turned into the old NPS barracks and mess hall. He didn't think any stone would be left unturned, nor did he think they would find them.

  At the stop sign, Hudson stared down the length of the Norris-Canyon road. If Julie and Gracie had cut through some of the old trails leading to the village, he needed to go left. If they held a straight course, he needed to go right. Picking the wrong direction could cost Gracie precious time, but he went with his gut and turned toward the meadows.

  Barely moving, he scanned the snow bank on the far side of the road and finally spotted deep gouges that marked their passage. With his head pounding, but his vision clearing, he left his truck in the middle of the road and climbed the embankment. The tracks cut shallow trenches through the pristine snowfield that he could easily follow. Without snowshoes, however, he would sink to his waist in the deep blanket of snow.

  The trail they seemed to be following led to the site of the old Canyon Hotel, a monstrous building that had been demolished in the late 50's and early 60's by a company that won the bid for a measly twenty-five dollars, only to be finished off by a mysterious fire. It was also the site of the current horse corrals and Winter Keeper's residence.

  He buried his indecision and slid back down the wall of snow to the road. If he made the wrong choice, went to the wrong place, Gracie was as good as dead. Being frozen to the spot, second-guessing himself would be just as deadly.

  He jerked the radio off the dash clip to call for David, and jumped as it came to life in his hand, “Hudson, you on?”

  “Yeah, I've got tracks, heading to the corrals.”

  David hesitated before answering. “I've got two bodies, boss.”

  His breath caught in his chest. He held the back of his radio hand against his mouth, pressing back the question. Afraid that in the asking, his worst fears would become reality. David seemed to read his thoughts, jumping back on to reassure him, “It's not Gracie, boss. It's her friend, Kristi Montgomery and her old man, the one they call Corny.”

  With his finger still on the key to the handset, Hudson could hear David take a deep breath over the air. “It's bad, boss. I'd say the most violent yet. If this woman has snapped, there's no telling what she'll do to Gracie.”

  “Deal with it, get help to me at the corrals when you can.”

  To his credit, David didn't try to tell him to wait for backup. “We'll be right behind you.”

  “Ranger Foster, this is Deputy Ranger Erickson—” Hudson flipped the switch on the radio, silencing the old bastard. He could take this job and shove it after Gracie was home safe. Until then, nothing else mattered.

  35

  Just inside the line of conifers, Gracie leaned against a t
ree and tried to catch her breath. In the summer, after the snow melted and the ground began to dry out, the slope they were on was an easy, enjoyable hike. Now, the muscles in Gracie's legs were trembling. The small hillock looked more like a mountain.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she found Julie panting, almost doubled over with one hand on her knee. The other hand held the gun. It was still pointed at her, but it was shaking. Gracie glanced back up the slope and slid down the tree to retie her shoes, buying herself a little more time.

  If she could break left and zigzag through the trees, she stood a better chance of the bullet finding bark and pulp instead of her. With her shoes cinched so tight it cut off the circulation in her feet, she tensed, ready to bolt for the meager shelter the trees provided.

  Mommy?

  Gracie stumbled forward, going down to her knees in the snow. The little girl—that damned little girl. Her voice came from right behind her, just over her shoulder. “Not now,” she whispered a little prayer and tried to right herself. “Please, not now.”

  Mommy?

  “What's wrong with you?” Julie asked, moving closer.

  The backyard was silvered by moonlight. It almost looked like snow.

  Gracie spun around, landing on her butt in the cold, wet, snow. She saw the broken earth, felt her bare feet sink into the soil as she turned, trying to find a way out. “Please,” she whimpered. Feeling fear for the first time in hours, tears slid down her frozen cheeks.

  “Gracie? What is it?”

  Mommy?

  She could hear Julie, but her voice sounded so far away—as if separated not just by time but by miles. The little girl was here, now. Unable to fight it, unable to find a way out, she stood behind. Wanting to hold girl, to pull her away, and make her go back in the house. Gracie was helpless to do more than weep for the child as she stared down at damp tendrils of hair snaking up through the broken earth.