Falling Page 3

  She was slightly ahead of me, no more than five or six paces, when she slowed, then came to a stop. Automatically, I did as well, about three feet from the ledge. She didn’t look at me. I didn’t look at her. Our gazes were riveted on the view spread out before and below us.

  The opposing rock face was about three stories high, and about a quarter of a mile away. The ground we stood on, and the ledge just ahead of us, rose higher than the one across the way by a good three hundred feet or so, allowing us to look out onto the vista. Off to our right, a plain opened up, spreading out from the valley in a vast panorama very distantly bordered by some kind of conifer trees. Meandering through it all was the river, which thrashed and roared below us before gentling when it reached flatter land. It looked like a scene out of Jurassic Park. I half-expected to see a herd of Stegosaurus wandering across that plain.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  Kael suddenly threw her arms out wide, chest forward and head back. “It makes you wish you could fly!” she shouted to the sky.

  I smiled at her passion. I’d been hang gliding a few times, and I knew exactly what she meant. Where we stood was a perfect takeoff point, and the thought of sailing through and past the valley filled me with a longing for untethered freedom.

  She took a step forward, arms still out, and looked for all the world as if she was about to launch herself off the ledge.

  “Hey!” I yelled, startled.

  She jerked around quickly. The movement caused the knapsack to swing away from her body. Her questioning look was replaced with one of consternation. As she tried to shift the knapsack back into place, her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in surprise. Her right foot had started to slide out from beneath her.

  My jaw slackened in horror as my heart leapt. She had stepped onto a slight decline and it was all loose shale and weather-broken rock.

  Oh, fuck! I moved, fast. I lunged forward, just as she instinctively flung an arm toward me. I snapped my hand out, grabbed her forearm, while she did the same to mine, and then I threw my weight back, hauling on her hard. It’s been said that some people experience superhuman strength in times of crisis. I doubt my strength was superhuman, but even so my effort was enough to lift Kael off her feet. She literally flew into me, knocking me backward several feet before I crashed to the ground with her on top of me. An instant later her knapsack smacked sharply into the side of my head, knocking my sunglasses off.

  Winded, I couldn’t even react to the insult from the pack. I struggled for breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut, aware that Kael was still on top of me, making it even more difficult to breathe.

  “Oh, Jesus!” she exclaimed as she scrambled off me.

  The constriction in my chest lessened and I inhaled deeply. I opened my eyes, to see her on her knees next to me, peering at me with undisguised worry.

  “Thank god. I thought I’d killed you!”

  My breath escaped me in what was supposed to be a laugh, but which came out as a wheeze. Still, she caught the intent because she grinned ever so slightly through her worry and relief. My wheeze turned into a weak coughing fit.

  Her grin disappeared. “Water? Do you need water?” She reached for her pack, dragging it closer.

  “No, no,” I managed to get out. I coughed a few more times.

  “Are you sure?” She held the water bottle aloft, sloshing the water inside as if to tempt me.

  Another laugh burst from me, albeit a slightly choked one. Her grin reappeared, brightening her entire face, making her pale blue eyes shine. I locked mine on hers.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” I told her.

  Her grin faded, her expression became thoughtful. “You saved my life,” she said. She leaned over me, resting her weight on one arm, and kissed me, with a tender firmness, on the mouth.

  The pleasant shock that coursed through me with that one kiss threatened to knock the breath from me once more. When she pulled back, her eyes were wide, her lips parted slightly. I stared at her, she stared at me. When I began to smile, so did she. And with that, I closed my eyes and lay where I had fallen, feeling the sun warming my face.

  Chapter Seven

  For six hours she is in the hospital.

  During the first hour, her wounds are treated and her fear steadily grows, yet she utters not a single word.

  Tanner, the investigator, grows visibly frustrated with the silence that greets her every question. While her kindness and concern is obvious, in the face of the fear they are rendered inconsequential; fear trumps everything right now.

  When the officer leaves the room to respond to her radio, which has been squawking intermittently, her departure is registered with a slight relaxing of strained muscles. But the tension ratchets up again with Tanner’s return, the expression on her face, and her ominous words. Though her voice is soft, when she speaks of K-9 units and teams working through the night, the feeling of despair is near overwhelming.

  But it’s only when another woman appears, introduced as Emily Bernstein, a psychologist with the hospital’s Adolescent Psychology Unit, that the resignation sinks in, takes over. She should have run, she thinks, and taken her chances on the road rather than be asked all sorts of questions about things she knows she will not speak of. And once Tanner leaves, and the kind-looking Bernstein takes her place, the questions begin again. They are met with the same unyielding silence.

  She knows that not answering their questions is not helping her. Not only have both women told her this in no uncertain terms, she knows it very well herself. Yet habits formed earlier in her childhood, from the time she was eight and learned of the accidental death of her father, are not so easily abandoned. For now, her silence is the only comfort she knows.

  And so she sits, and the psychologist sits, the one persistently quiet, the other persistently not, until exhaustion overtakes the former and, sagging, she finally dozes off.

  Sometime later she is startled awake by voices just outside her room. She supposes they are trying to whisper, but it’s the type of loud whispering she often heard at home when a fight was escalating, not really whispering at all, since most of the words not meant to be heard were perfectly clear. She raises herself on her elbows and listens to Tanner speak of finding the man on the floor, of the blood (“…never seen so much blood!”), of the knife (“…no idea how she managed it”), and she realizes she has been caught, found out, that she’ll have to talk, finally. Her gut tightens with dread. She listens further, hears the words “Mirandize” and “rights” and “minor,” and hears Bernstein clearly say, “You cannot speak to her, legally, unless a parent or guardian is present, you know that.” She sounds forceful, no-nonsense. The feeling of dread abates, then lessens further when Tanner says, “Jesus, that poor kid. I just want to help her.”

  She sinks back onto her pillow, relieved that, for now, she does not have to say anything. Yet when she must speak, she knows that it will be to Tanner first. The woman’s compassion and concern are clear, and already threatens to undo four years of childhood habitual silence. She thinks it will be easier to talk to her. But not now, not here. Such talk will have to wait until she has the courage and the words. The realization that she lacks both causes a shard of sadness to lodge itself somewhere behind her breastbone. She rolls over onto her side and squeezes her eyes shut, in a hopeless attempt to keep from crying.

  Chapter Eight

  I sat up abruptly a few minutes later, startling Kael, who visibly jerked back. I looked at her, then shot a glance down at the knapsack beside her.

  “What the hell have you got in that thing, anyway?” I asked, rubbing the side of my head. “I thought it was lights-out for sure.”

  “I’m sorry.” She did appear contrite, as much as one can manage to do so while fighting amusement at the same time.

  “You should be,” I mock-grumbled. “I save your ass from plummeting off a cliff and almost get knocked unconscious in return. Seriously, what’s in there? I mean, besides an unloaded gun that y
ou don’t know how to shoot.”

  She seemed to go very still at those words, her good humor vanishing as her wariness reasserted itself. I’d spoken deliberately, called her bluff, and she knew it. She briefly regarded me in silence, and then her expression softened.

  “All right,” she said. She raised her head, glanced around as if to ensure we were alone, then returned her eyes to mine. She nodded, hefted the knapsack in both hands, and surprised me by placing it in my lap.

  I looked down at it, then back up at her. “Oh,” I said.

  She swallowed, blinking a couple of times. She’d dropped her hands to her own lap and sat back on her heels, lips pressed tightly together, seeming to struggle with her patience. I realized what she was doing: extending her trust.

  I held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded as well, and turned my attention to the knapsack. I flipped it around carefully so the straps rested against my legs; it was somewhat bulky with whatever was weighting it, though it wasn’t overly heavy. I hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea of going through her personal things. I reached for the two zippers at the top of the main compartment and tugged them down.

  The first thing I saw was the black stock and polymer grips of the handgun. It was jammed down between a couple of sweatshirts, so the butt was facing up. This made it easy to access and remove, which I guessed was probably the point. I reached in and carefully withdrew a Sig Sauer P220, one of their compact handguns. I noted that the safety was on, then released the magazine. Six rounds; it was full.

  I replaced the magazine and laid the gun carefully on the ground between us. Only then did I look up. Kael’s eyes locked on mine, no trace of her wariness or tension. A moment passed, then two, before she gave a single nod.

  I turned my attention back to the knapsack. The handgun had made a slight scraping noise as I’d removed it, and I wondered what it had brushed against. I rearranged my position so I was sitting cross-legged. I carefully reached in again, and felt the smooth fabric edge of some kind of casing. I parted the two sweatshirts, took a grip on what was nestled between, and pulled forth a slim nylon carrying case. I shoved the knapsack away, and slid the case onto my lap; I already knew what was inside by the weight and shape.

  I glanced over at Kael. “A laptop?”

  She nodded.

  “May I?”

  She nodded again.

  I opened the case and withdrew the sleek body of a MacBook Pro, the smaller one, thirteen inches or so.

  I looked up at Kael with a smile. “Very nice.”

  Her smile was lopsided, clearly pleased.

  I slid the laptop back into its carrying case. “Obviously that’s what whacked me in the head.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “No worries, I’m fine,” I told her.

  I slid the laptop back into the knapsack, rearranged the two sweatshirts as they had been, then reached for the handgun. She stopped me by touching the back of my hand lightly with her fingertips. I looked at her.

  “That’s not all that’s—”

  “I was really only curious about whatever it was that almost knocked me out. The rest of it? Not my concern.”

  She searched my eyes for a few moments, then pulled her hand back.

  I wondered why she was so willing to share with me, a complete stranger, what appeared to be all of her worldly possessions. Perhaps it had something to do with being on the road as she was, hitching rides. No real contact with anyone. Or maybe she was this way with everyone, though I found that doubtful. At any rate, I didn’t ask. I merely picked up the gun and held it, admiring it. I preferred Glocks, but Sigs were lovely guns in their own right.

  “Nice gun,” I told her, with a sidelong glance.

  She offered a faint smile.

  I replaced the weapon in the knapsack exactly as it had been, and placed it at her knees. She rested both hands on it as I looked at her. She eyed me with that contemplative expression of hers.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That’s it? You have no more questions?”

  “Oh, I have questions,” I assured her, retrieving my sunglasses from the ground and inspecting them for damage. “I’ve had questions for a while now.” Tucking one arm of the glasses into my T-shirt, I added, looking up, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to ask them.”

  She cocked her head. “Why not?”

  Again I wondered at the sudden willingness to share. I gave a half shrug. “It’s really none of my business, Kael.”

  After a few moments passed, she finally said, “And you don’t want it to be.”

  I gave the half shrug again, unwilling to answer, unsure what I would say if I did.

  She eyed me a moment or two more, and I kept my gaze steady on hers. At last, with that faint smile of hers, she said, “All right. Good enough.” She rose to her feet in one smooth motion and arched into a stretch, lithe as a cat. As she brought her arms back down, she bent to retrieve her knapsack. Hoisting it up to her shoulder, she extended a hand toward me.

  Thinking she was offering me a hand up, I smiled and reached out.

  With a quick, playful grin, she gave my shoulder a shove, just enough to knock me onto my back again. “Race you back to the Jeep,” she said, then spun around and took off a run.

  “Oh, you little—!” I muttered, even as I rolled, jumped to my feet, and sprinted after her.

  Chapter Nine

  I’m in good shape. I run, cycle, lift weights, and have always been athletic. I should have been able to catch up to the slender woman just beyond me.

  But Kael was like some kind of freaking gazelle. No sooner had I gained my feet and started after her, when I saw her veer off the path. Quick and agile, she tore through the trees, dodged around undergrowth, leapt over deadfall, ducked low-hanging branches. She was fleet and graceful; the knapsack didn’t seem to hinder her in the least. As fast and hard as I ran, I had absolutely no chance of closing the fifty-foot gap between us.

  I had the presence of mind to worry she might suddenly disappear from view, that in her unexpected wild abandon she might encounter another ledge and run right off it. We were off the path and I had no idea of the lay of the land. No sooner had this occurred to me when I saw her jump and immediately drop out of sight.

  What the fuck? I felt no small amount of alarm.

  At the point where she’d jumped, I came to an abrupt declivity that ended four or five feet below at another path, upon which she was now tearing along at full pelt. I jumped as well, landed solidly, and continued after her. I was beginning to feel a bit winded. I saw Kael falter in her stride, and guessed she was also starting to tire. A moment later she was lost from view at a bend in the path.

  As I rounded that bend I saw directly ahead of her a long, wooden footbridge, four-foot high railings on either side, topped by 2x6s. She sprinted across about twenty feet, footfalls thumping loudly, before she came to an abrupt halt. She placed her left hand on one of the rails, and sprang nimbly up.

  As I reached the edge of the bridge, wondering what in the hell she was doing, Kael, chest heaving, yelled out, “Stop! Or I’ll jump!”

  I slid to a standstill and blinked. Then, as out of breath as I was, I burst out laughing. The footbridge was long, a hundred feet or so, spanning a wide, yet shallow streambed through which a tumbling stream ran, perhaps to join up with the river we had just left behind. Even perched up on the railing as she was, the streambed was only about six or seven feet below her. As my laughter dissipated, she smirked and shrugged, hands upraised in a comical gesture.

  I stepped to the railing, hoisted myself up and gained my feet. She was watching me keenly. I tempered my own smile, and then made my way toward her with care. It may not have been a far drop, but I didn’t need a broken ankle or arm out here in the middle of nowhere. I stopped a few feet away from her and looked her in the eye. She raised her chin slightly as if she would challenge me. Her gaze was calm, clear.

  She was perspiring, as was I. Her chest rose
and fell visibly; I could feel mine doing the same as we both regained our breath. I suddenly very much wanted to reach out and touch her. As that realization struck me, I felt my lungs hitch in surprise. I wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. I recalled her kiss, and my want increased; standing so close to her, poised on the railing, I wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us, place a finger beneath her chin to bring it up a fraction more, and kiss her, taste her fully. I actually started to lift my hand, and saw her pupils contract the tiniest bit. Want can be such a very transparent thing.

  I cleared my throat, turned my hand palm up, and asked, “Water? Please?”

  A laugh escaped her, but it sounded more startled than amused. “Um…” She looked down, and around, then back up at me. “Maybe we should get down from here first.”

  She had a point. I nodded. We both crouched and then seated ourselves on the railing. She handed the bottle of water over to me. I twisted the cap off, tilted the bottle to my lips and grimaced slightly as the warm water filled my mouth. But it was wet, and that was all I wanted. I handed the bottle back to her with a wry squint.

  “That bad, huh?” she asked, brow crinkled in sympathy.

  “Well…” I angled my head in simulation of a shrug.

  “Sorry,” she said as she replaced the bottle in a side pocket.

  We spent the next few moments in silence. I leaned forward, placing my hands palm down near the edge of the flat railing. It was very pretty where we were and peaceful. I glanced around idly, before looking over at Kael.

  “So,” I said, voice light and pleasant. I drummed my fingers against the wood. “We’re nowhere near my Jeep.”

  She dropped her chin and I saw the corner of her mouth pull up briefly in amusement. “No,” she agreed. “We’re not.” She leaned forward, imitating my position, then abruptly snapped around to fix me with an intense, direct look. “Can I ask you something?”