Scene of the Climb (22 page)

“Well, my friend can take me to the doctor. You don't need to.” I stood on my tiptoes and called over Greg's shoulder to Matt, “Come on over.” I prayed internally Greg wouldn't loosen his grip around me. I wasn't sure I was steady enough to stand on my own.

Matt slunk over with his arms wrapped around his bare chest.

“Greg, this is my friend Matt,” I said, nodding to Matt. “Matt, this is my boss, Greg.”

The grin on Matt's face vanished. He twisted the extra caution tape around his wrist. “How's it going?” he said to Greg. Catching my eye, he gave me a quick but noticeable eye roll—as if to say, “This is the guy?”

“Nice to meet you.” Greg took his arm off my shoulder and reached to shake Matt's hand.

A strange look passed between them, but both recovered quickly. Greg returned his arm to my shoulder. “I'm going to take Meg into town. Can you follow us to bring her back?” He looked at his watch. “It's only a ten- or fifteen-minute drive.”

Matt folded his arms around his chest again. “Nope, I don't mind. I can take her too.”

Greg surveyed Matt's truck. “Thanks, but I need to make sure we get her all squared away and paid for.”

Greg moved me in the direction of his BMW. “Meet you there.”

“Fine,” Matt said, not making eye contact with me. “Whatever's better for Megs.” He turned on his heels to his truck.

“Matt,” I called. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. I caught a look of longing in his eyes. “You want your shirt?”

“Nah, keep it. I'll be fine.”

I should have been happy to have Greg in close proximity and all to myself, but I couldn't shake the feeling Matt was upset.

The ride into the small riverside town of Stevenson was pleasant and too short.

We made our way east with breathtaking views of the carved-out Gorge miles below. Greg clicked on the radio. A lulling, romantic Perry Como melody played.

“You like crooners?”

“Not at all.” Greg turned the station. “I'm a Nirvana guy. That's earlier than your time. I'm guessing you're a Pink or Taylor Swift fan?”

“Yeah, sure,” I lied.

“Something on your mind?” Greg asked as I watched the lush, green Northwest jungle fly by my window. “Your hand hurting?”

“Nope, it's okay,” I said, keeping pressure on Matt's bloodstained shirt.

Greg turned the music down and stretched his right arm over my armrest, leaving him with one hand to navigate the hairpin turns. The man liked to live on the edge.

“Is Matt your boyfriend?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“What? No, no, not at all. He's like a brother to me.”

“A brother?”

“Seriously, we're friends. Nothing more.”

“I don't think Matt would agree. He's into you.” Greg turned his head in my direction, but I couldn't make out his expression from behind his sunglasses.

“Matt? No. Trust me. He thinks of me as a sister. Usually an annoying sister.”

“That's not the way I look at my sister.” Greg laughed and accelerated around a curve. I resisted the urge to brake with my right foot.

“Trust me.” I plunged my foot into the mat as Greg whipped the car through a zigzag in the road. “There's nothing between me and Matt.”

Changing the subject, Greg launched into a series of questions about what I was doing on the trail. I gave him a condensed recap of Krissy leaving, hearing screams and discovering the meadow.

“Tell me more about the scream,” he asked, slowing briefly and hugging the right shoulder as a semi-truck sailed past us, inching over the center line.

“It's hard to describe. I thought it sounded like a woman, but now I'm not sure.”

Greg jerked the wheel. The motion pushed me into the passenger side door. Instinctively I reached for the handle above my head. Pain seared in my hand. I brought it to my lap.

“Sorry about that. Did you see that squirrel? They're brazen. You'd think they'd learn to avoid the road. Anyway, this scream, was it high-pitched?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, trying to recall the bloodcurdling sound I'd heard on the trail.

“Did it sound like a shriek?”

I thought about the guttural piercing sound. “Uh-huh.” I shivered.

“Meg, I think you heard a cougar.” He skimmed around a curve. The sun drifted behind the cliffs. Pulling his sunglasses to the top of his head he gave me a hard look.

“What? No—no, it sounded like a person, not an animal.” I stared at him with disbelief as he maneuvered the BMW around another bend.

“That's exactly what people report with cougar sightings—a piercing scream. Didn't you read about the hiker who was attacked last week? He got away, but it was nasty.”

A cougar. Is that what I'd heard? I could have sworn it was a woman screaming, but with the rain, wind and dense forest, maybe it had been a mountain lion. They were prolific in these parts, but known to keep a low profile. Occasional attacks on hikers had been reported, but I'd never considered them a danger to me. Panic welled in my throat, tightening it and making it hard to swallow. What would I have done if I'd met with a cougar alone on the trail?

We made it to the doctor in no time. Greg knew his way around town and the emergency room doctor. In less than thirty minutes I was in and out of the hospital, with eight stitches horizontally crisscrossing my hand.

Greg handed me off to Matt. Talking to him like I wasn't even there. “She's all stitched up. The numbing in her hand will wear off in a while. Make sure she takes a couple of these.” He handed Matt a bottle of pills.

Turning to me he said, “You don't have to come to the finale tomorrow. I can cover it. You should rest your hand.”

“No way. I'll be there.”

“It's up to you, but if you change your mind, text me.” He gave Matt a wink and sauntered off.

On the ride back to Portland Matt was strangely silent. He dropped me off at Jill's with barely more than a good-bye.

I stumbled up the stairs to Jill's loft.

What had I done to make Matt so angry?

Jill was still at the beach. She sent me a text to check in and tell me she'd be home late or maybe not at all.

The space was mine. What to do?

I had to make it right with Matt. I'd invite him over, order in pizza and promise to watch whatever geek or gory movie he wanted.

First, a shower. I peeled off my filthy clothes and piled them on the bathroom floor. Steam filled the bathroom while I let the water run, not caring about being environmentally conscious. I climbed in the foglike shower, carefully keeping my injured hand on the other side of the curtain.

Scalding water streamed down, burning away the dirt, grime and worry. Was Matt jealous of Greg? Jill was convinced Matt had been crushing on me since our junior year of college. I thought she said it to appease me and distract me from the fact that wherever we went together, men drooled over her and ignored me. The way Matt behaved earlier made me wonder if Jill might be right.

Then there was Greg. Ah, Greg. I needed to stop crushing on him. He'd been concerned about my hand, demanding to drive me in for medical attention. Probably he was worried I'd open a workers' compensation claim. It was superflattering to have him pay attention to me. I had to remind myself he flirted with every woman he met and he was my
boss.

Thirty minutes later, with red, wrinkling skin I removed myself from the shower, threw on sweats and a tattered college sweatshirt and texted Matt.

 

Pizza, movies (your choice) my place in an hour?

 

I held my phone in my left hand, watching the screen and waiting for the little green text window to pop up. Nothing. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes.

Uh-oh. He must be madder than I thought. I should have gone with him.

You there? I texted. Sorry about today. Come over I'll make it up to you.

Another five minutes passed before my phone made the sound of a typewriter returning.

 

Be there in a few.

 

I punched in the number to the pizza spot around the corner and ordered Matt's favorite—the Rat Pack Special. It came loaded with pepperoni, beef, mushrooms, olives and extra cheese.

With pizza on its way, I checked Jill's beer supply. Yuck, nothing but a lame can of lite beer. Her wine collection decorated the space above the cabinets. Bottles imported from Italy and Spain. They were completely lost on my unrefined palate. If only the pizza place delivered beer to go.

The doorbell rang. Matt held two growlers in his hands. “I stopped by Deschutes on my way.”

“You're the best.” I leaned onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. It was smooth to the touch. He must have shaved. “Come on in.”

Matt poured two glasses of amber-colored beer and stuck the growlers in the fridge.

“Pizza should be here any minute,” I said, looking through Jill's DVDs. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

Bringing me a frosty glass of beer, he moved to my side. I caught a whiff of his fresh sandalwood cologne. It smelled supersexy.

What was wrong with me? I couldn't stop daydreaming about my boss; now I was ogling over my best friend.

“Anything look good?” I asked as Matt scanned the shelf of DVDs.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked, slowly sipping his beer. I wondered what his lips would feel like on mine.

Stop it, Meg, I told myself. You're setting yourself up for trouble.

To Matt I said, “I'm cool with anything. It's your call. I wanted to thank you for helping me out this afternoon. I'm sorry it ended so . . . so weird.”

Matt started to respond, just as the doorbell rang.

“Pizza's here.”

I paid the delivery guy while Matt took our beers and the steaming pie to Jill's coffee table.

“Let's eat,” he said, pulling a slice oozing with cheese from the box. “We can watch a movie later if you're up for it.”

The smell of savory meat and garlicky tomato sauce filled the room. In the mess of hiking and an impromptu trip to the ER for stitches, I'd forgotten to eat. I was famished. I inhaled three slices of the wood-fired pizza before pausing to breathe. I'd never eat like that in front of Greg.

Washing the pizza down with the beer Matt brought relaxed me and made my head feel slightly fuzzy. The numbing in my hand had begun to wear off. It throbbed. I could feel it pulsating like the beat of a drum.

“You weren't hungry or anything,” Matt teased as he refilled our beers and crammed the half-empty pizza box into Jill's fridge. He kicked off his shoes, grabbed a DVD and lounged beside me on the couch. “How's the hand feeling?”

“It's starting to hurt, kind of throbbing a little.”

Matt gently peeled my fingertips apart. His touch sent a wave of heat through my body. Probably the beer, I told myself. “They look good. No swelling. It's a good sign it's hurting. Means it's starting to heal.”

“You think?” I asked, not wanting him to let go of my hand.

“I'm sure of it.” He nodded and dropped his hand.

He pretended to read the back cover of the DVD he'd chosen. “Your boss, Greg, he's older than I expected.”

“Is he? I don't think he's old. Maybe thirty?”

“Exactly. That's almost a decade older than us.”

“He doesn't act it, though. I don't really think of him being that much older.”

Matt studied the DVD. “You've got it bad, Megs.”

I twisted a napkin in my left hand. It was stained with pizza grease. “What do you mean?”

Dropping the DVD in his lap, Matt met my eyes. “Come on, Megs. I know you better than that. You've got a major crush.” He looked away again. “Be careful. It's always the guys like him who break hearts.”

The napkin shredded into tiny pieces in my hand. I tucked it under my leg. “It's not like that, Matt. He's my boss. He happens to be attractive. That's all.”

“Sure, that's all.” Matt held an action movie up. “You want to watch this?”

“Always.” I laughed trying to lighten the mood. “You know me. Sign me up for an end-of-the-world disaster flick anyday.”

“Want a refill?” Matt asked, standing and grabbing my empty glass.

“Nah, I'm good. I'm feeling it tonight.”

Matt took both our glasses to the sink and slid the DVD into the Blu-ray player. “I'm sure it's the stress of the day.” He fiddled with a remote and sank onto the couch again. “By the way, that reminds me we never finished our conversation. You said you heard a woman scream. Did anything more come of that? Did your”—he cleared his throat—“
boss
hear anything? I asked all the others when they returned. No one else heard a thing.”

Opening credits rolled on the screen. “Pause it for a sec,” I demanded, trying to grab the remote out of Matt's hand. He hit Pause and the movie froze. “You're not going to believe this. Greg thinks I heard a cougar, not a woman.”

I noticed Matt gripped the remote, his knuckles cracking. “Shit, he's got a point. That's cougar country. You never should have gone out there on your own.” His tone turned harsh.

“I didn't do it on purpose. I freaked out.”

“Stupid move, really stupid. You know a guy was mauled on a trail a week ago. A cougar's not going to attack a group, but one small girl. You could have been an afternoon snack.” He loosened his grip on the remote, his fingertips white.

“What is this? Pick on Meg day?”

A soft, husky quality grumbled from Matt. “No, sorry. I can't stand the thought of you alone out there. Promise me you won't try a stunt like that again? No job is worth it.”

My stomach fluttered. Matt leaned in. I thought he was going to kiss me, but at the last minute he brushed a stray hair from my eye and pulled away.

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute. I racked my brain for something witty or funny to say. Nothing came, other than the sound of my heart beating in my head.

The camera! I'd forgotten all about the camera I found on the trail.

I jumped to my feet. “Hold on!” I rushed to the table where I'd dropped my backpack and grabbed it. “Here.” I thrust it in Matt's hands. “I totally spaced. I found a camera on the trail. It must have fallen off in the hailstorm.”

Matt unzipped my pack and found the camera. “Oh yeah, a GoPro. I love these.” He twisted it in his hands and held it to the light. “Doesn't look damaged, but a Mac truck could run over one of these and not leave a scratch.”

“Really?”

“I'm exaggerating, but not much. There was an article in
Wired
last month about a kid who built a model of the space shuttle out of LEGOs. He strapped one of these to it and launched it into space. The camera survived. Completely intact. They're a work of genius. I've been dying to get my hands on one of them.”

“Is there a way to watch whatever's on this one?” I asked. “I know Andrew has a mount he pops on to view the video. What if we could see the trail? Maybe we'd be able to tell if someone else was out there with me.”

“Sure, no problem.” Matt twisted open the waterproof casing around the camera and pulled out a memory card. He held the tiny card in his hand. “Where's your laptop?”

“On the table.” I pointed to Jill's dining room set.

As Matt booted up my laptop, my heart flopped. This time not from the anticipation of a kiss, but from the possibility the film might lead to another clue into whoever was behind Lenny's murder.

Static, crystal images of the trail appeared on my screen. “Wow, this is really crisp video,” I said.

“I know. They shoot in 1080p. That's HD video.” Matt pointed to the flat-screen TV, “It's the equivalent of watching a Blu-ray.”

The film showed Andrew testing it on screen. He waved, jumped up and down and said, “Testing, testing, testing.” The next ten minutes of footage was a still shot of the forest. The rain hadn't hit, but dark clouds must have been rolling past. Shadows danced between the trees. Matt sped the film up. After another ten minutes Leaf, Greg and Dave sprinted past. Where was Alicia? Hadn't she been out in front?

There was no sign of her as Matt continued to fast-forward the film.

“Stop,” I shouted. Something blurred in front of the camera. “Go back.”

Matt rewound the frame. Andrew's bulky figure came into view. What was he doing? I thought he'd gone ahead to mount cameras all along the trail? Minutes and minutes of footage showed him pacing. He fiddled with his fanny pack and kept looking ahead and behind him. He was waiting for someone. But who?

“Fast-forward,” I told Matt. He sped the film up again. It looked like Andrew was rushing along a ten-foot stretch of trail.

“There, look!” Matt stopped the film as Alicia appeared on screen, but from the other direction—as if she was coming from the summit.

“How did she get there?” I asked Matt. “Did we miss her going past?”

“I don't think so,” Matt said.

Andrew raced over to Alicia. Her model-like body looked like a toothpick in contrast to his huge frame. “Well?” she asked in her typical sullen tone.

Wind from the approaching storm whipped through the forest, making it hard to hear.

“Can you turn it up?” I asked Matt.

He slid the volume dial on my laptop and enhanced the sound.

Alicia bounced lightly on her feet—probably trying to keep herself warm. But how was she going to catch Leaf and the rest of them? They'd passed by her at least five minutes before.

Matt and I both leaned closer to the laptop screen to make out what Alicia and Andrew were discussing. I'd never noticed how Andrew looked at her like a puppy dog following its master. His eyes never left hers. Was he into her? I thought back to the other hikes and times I'd seen them together. He was always fiddling with her camera, but I'd never thought much about that. Now, images of him doting on her came flooding to mind. Why hadn't I realized this before?

“He's in love with her, isn't he?”

“You think?” Matt bantered. “Yeah. I'll say.”

“Shh, listen.”

Andrew looked around and motioned Alicia off the trail and closer to the tree. This made it much easier to hear what they were saying and I silently thanked him.

“What do you want?” Alicia asked, her thin arms wrapped angrily around her waist.

“I know about Lenny,” he said.

Alicia gave him a look of pure hatred. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Andrew's back was to the camera, but I could tell from the way he shifted his weight and motioned his arms in the air, he was scrambling. “Don't worry. No one else does. I'll keep your secret.”

Matt and I looked at each other wide-eyed.

“What secret?” Matt whispered.

I hushed him and held my breath, waiting for Alicia's response.

The look she threw Andrew made me shudder.

“Tough cookie,” Matt muttered.

“Shush.” I kicked him with my foot.

Through clenched teeth Alicia hissed, “Listen, what happened between me and that dirt bag is nobody's business.”

Andrew nodded frantically.

Alicia held a finger and pushed it onto his chest. “You tell one person, I mean one person about this. and you're as good as dead to me. Got it?”

“You know I'd, I'd,”—Andrew fumbled over his words—“I'd never betray you.”

A fake, serene smile washed over Alicia's face. She moved closer to Andrew and massaged his shoulder.

Matt made a face like he was going to gag.

“That's right, sweetie. I know you won't,” Alicia said in a syrupy voice. “I didn't mean to snap. I want to get the hell out of this place and get started on our life together.”

The next thing that happened made me cover my eyes and scream in disgust. Alicia and Andrew made out, complete with tongue action.