Scene of the Climb (23 page)

“Yuck. Fast-forward,” I said with one hand covering my eyes.

“No way,” Matt replied. “We might miss something good. This is better than any movie we were going to watch.”

“Alicia and Andrew? I would NOT have pegged them as a couple.” My face stuck in a permanent grimace.

Matt paused the video. “What do you know about them? I mean, I'm with you completely based on looks alone, but I'm assuming they haven't been public?”

I tried to think of any sign that might have betrayed Alicia. None. “Nothing,” I said, biting my bottom lip. “She's awful to everyone.”

“What about him?”

“Well, it did seem like he always spent extra time fitting her camera and stuff—more in an annoying kind of way. Like offering to get her drinks and carry her backpack. I guess it should have dawned on me he liked her. But never would I have thought Alicia reciprocated his feelings. Shocker.”

“Should we keep going?” Matt asked, his hand poised to hit Play.

“Uh, totally.”

The video rolled on. Alicia pulled away from Andrew's embrace, mumbled something I couldn't understand and took off cutting through the forest, directly up the cliff face. Andrew made a minor adjustment to the height of the camera and ambled up the trail.

“You realize what this means?” I asked Matt, watching the wind rustle the bushes on the empty path.

“No idea.” Matt shook his head, that damn boyish smile on his lips.

“Alicia is the killer!” I threw my left hand at the screen. “We have proof. Right here.”

“That's a bit of a stretch.”

“No, listen, it all makes sense now. Think about it. Andrew figured it out too. He knows Alicia pushed Lenny off the cliff. He's covering for her. That's the secret he's talking about. She's playing him. She has to be. There's no way a girl like her goes for a guy like him.”

“Tell me about it.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice guys finish last.”

“Stop it.” I elbowed him with my right arm, momentarily forgetting about my stitches. Pain surged through the veins in my arm. “Ouch.”

“Easy there, tiger.” Matt nudged me in the ribs.

“I can't believe I didn't see it before. That's why Andrew's been such a jerk to me. That has to be why he followed me out to Multnomah Falls—he thinks I know too. He's trying to protect Alicia.”

Matt fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie. “But why would Andrew choose that spot to meet her? He knew there was a camera running.”

“Maybe that's why. He wanted proof just in case things don't work out for them?”

“That could be.” Matt nodded. “You need to call Sheriff Daniels.”

A piercing scream came over the laptop's built-in speakers, making both Matt and me flinch on the couch.

“Oh my God.” Matt leaned forward, peering at the screen and then at me. “Was that the sound you heard?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded, feeling bile rise in my throat. The sound was more high-pitched and guttural than I remembered.

Matt hunched over the laptop, clicking on the video. He zoomed in on a small patch of trees to the right of the trail. “Look on that branch.”

My eyes followed his finger where he'd zoomed in. The image became grainy and pixelated. I squinted. “I don't see anything.”

“Right here.” Matt tapped the screen. “Perched in this tree.”

For a brief moment I considered not looking. I had a sinking feeling that whatever was perched in the tree would visit my dreams in the coming nights, and not in a Gam spirit animal guide kind of way.

“What is it?” I hesitated.

“A cougar. It's a cougar.”

We exchanged a look of disbelief. Matt clicked play, keeping his eyes glued to the tree. The cougar blended into the tree cover, perfectly positioned to pounce on any hiker who happened upon the trail.

Another shrill wild scream came from the cougar. Ten minutes later, I appeared on the screen. Huffing my way up the incline, red-faced and stumbling.

Matt put his hand on my knee, but said nothing. We both watched in stunned silence as I scrambled past the camera. The cougar remained statuelike in its lookout. Rain streamed in front of the camera's lens. Wind made the video shake. Matt focused on the cougar, which had yet to move. A gust of wind or a barrage of hail must have knocked the camera off the tree because it flipped, landing facedown on the dirt. The last twenty minutes of film consisted of a black screen.

Matt released my knee. “Geez, Megs, that was close. Way too close.”

“Is there more beer?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“Beer?” Matt couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. “We witnessed you escaping death by cougar by inches and all you can think about is beer?” He stopped and stared at me. “You're shaking all over.”

I blinked, trying desperately to hold back the tears pooling behind my eyes. “I could really use a beer.” I quivered.

Jumping up, Matt raced to the kitchen, rinsed out our pint glasses and poured two new ones. He handed me one and raised another in a mock toast. “Me, too.”

The carbonation tickled my throat as I took a long sip. It had a refreshing bite. What else could go wrong this week? So far I'd witnessed a murder, been run off the road, threatened and now stalked by a cougar.

“You okay?” Matt slugged half his glass.

“Um, yeah.” The pint glass shook in my hand.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you.” Matt took the glass from my hand and rested it on the coffee table. “You got lucky. Promise me you won't go off on an unpopulated trail like that again.”

“Are you kidding me? I don't know how I'm going to get myself out to the Bridge of the Gods for the finale tomorrow. I think I need a nature sabbatical.”

Matt knocked back another quarter of his beer and laughed. “Yeah, a stint stuck in here for a week is probably a good idea.” He panned to the moonlight reflecting off Jill's patio doors.

“One more day. If I can get through tomorrow I'll be done with this story and hopefully Greg will put me back on write-ups for gel packs and hiking boots. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure he's going to fire me.”

“Don't do anything stupid tomorrow, all right?”

“Me? Never.”

Swirling the beer on the bottom of his glass, Matt said, “You're not going to sit around and do nothing. What are you scheming?”

“Tomorrow's my last chance to confront Alicia. It'll be fine. There'll be people around. Krissy explained what a production it is to shut down bridge traffic and rig a zip-line. In fact, Sheriff Daniels is going to be there to help direct traffic. I'll call him tonight.”

“Great idea. I'm down with you looping the police in, but I don't want you confronting Alicia on your own. Who knows? She could have a perfectly reasonable explanation, but if she doesn't and it turns out she did kill Lenny, I don't want you anywhere near her. Got it?”

“Got it.” I nodded. “I'll make you a deal; I'll text Krissy tonight and find out if the police will be there. If they are, I'll fill Sheriff Daniels in before I talk to Alicia. Cool?”

“Cool.”

Matt offered to stay and sleep on the floor, but I shoved him off. I wanted to get an early start tomorrow. I couldn't believe I'd been so shortsighted. Had Alicia killed Lenny in a fit of rage? Was it an accident or had she hiked to the top of Angel's Rest intending to shove him off the ledge?

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'd have answers to all my questions. I took a couple Advil, hoping they'd ease the throbbing in my hand, and texted Krissy.

She responded within minutes. Police will be directing traffic. Briefing at 5:00. Come early.

Perfect. I could talk to Sheriff Daniels first thing in the morning. I sent Matt a text letting him know my plan and set the alarm on my phone for 4:00. Ouch. It would take me an hour to get out to the Bridge of the Gods. I had to get there before Alicia.

Sleep evaded me most of the night. I tossed and turned on Jill's couch, trying not to squish my hand as I ran through every interaction I'd had with Alicia. When the alarm buzzed at 4:00
A.M
. I was already half-awake.

Heading out in darkness in the direction of the rising sun, I sped along Interstate 84 toward the Bridge of the Gods. The once-sacred site where Native Americans believed you could cross the river without your feet getting wet now features a silver bridge spanning the mighty Columbia River.

I pulled off the freeway and into the town of Cascade Locks. A coffee would hit the spot. The clock on my dashboard flashed 4:50. I'd made good time. Slowing to 25 mph, I peered into shuttered shop windows. Nothing was open at this ungodly hour. Coffee would have to wait.

There was no sign of Krissy, Dave or any police presence at the base of the historic bridge. I'd have to make my way onto the steel structure. The overriding urge to finally get to the bottom of Lenny's murder helped propel me onward. I hung a U-turn in the middle of the barren street and headed under the freeway and onto the bridge. A mural on the abutment displayed Native Americans fishing along the banks of the rapids.

I cringed as I looked at the towering bridge. It sloped upward toward a toll booth, and climbed to a peak in the middle before descending into Washington.

A toll booth operator greeted me from her window.

“Morning. You have a coupon book?”

I shook my head.

“That'll be $1.”

“I'm actually a reporter. I'm here for the Race the States finale. Has anyone else come this way?”

The gray-haired woman riffled through a stack of paperwork. “Oh, yeah, that's happening later this morning. Ain't it? Uh, haven't seen anyone myself, but my shift started five minutes ago.”

“Do you know where I'm supposed to go?”

“Hmm, well I'd suggest you drive over to the Washington side.” She leaned farther out the tollbooth and pointed across the river. “As soon as you come off the bridge, take a sharp right. You can park there. You'll have to walk.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You still owe me a dollar.”

“Oh, right,” I said, rummaging through my purse to find change. Handing her a combination of quarters, nickels and dimes, I gave her a quick wave and rolled my window up.

She held a wrinkled finger in the air. “Be careful, dear. There's no sidewalk. Cars won't be looking for walkers this early.”

I thanked her again, took a deep breath and continued on. Midway across the span at the bridge's highest point, I noticed wires and riggings attached to the silver beams. This must be the spot.

I forced myself to look to my right. Downriver sat Thunder Island—the landing spot for the zip-line. The lines stretched from the steep bridge, over the river and to the island. Why would anyone in their right mind opt to do this? Oh, that's right. None of these people are in their right minds. That thought comforted me as I returned my eyes to the front windshield and crossed into Washington.

The tollbooth operator's directions led me to an empty lot. I parked the car and looked around. Where was everyone? Krissy said 5:00
A.M
., right? She must be on the Oregon side. I grabbed my pack, which contained a notebook, my camera, the GoPro (Matt made me promise I'd give it to Sheriff Daniels) and the first-aid kit. I wouldn't leave home without it now.

Walking across the bridge, alone in the dusky morning light, was not in my plan. The Pacific Crest Trail crosses the bridge and I remember years ago Pops telling me they had to blindfold horses in order to get them to cross, otherwise they were too spooked.

Whatever you do, don't look down,
I told myself as I started across.

The open steel grating on the bridge's surface gave an excellent view of the river rushing hundreds of feet below. The slow-rising morning sun cast shadows on the Oregon Mountains. Sheer terror pulsed through my body as I stepped onto the grate. I tried to keep my gaze focused ahead and ignore the sound of the forceful river below. A semi flew past on the opposite side. The bridge buckled and shook.

In the distance I thought I could make out an orange and yellow vest. The crew must have arrived. I quickened my pace, stepping lightly so as not to get my feet stuck in the grating. Nearing the halfway point of the bridge, Krissy's silhouette came into view. She was ahead about fifty feet, fiddling with the zip-line rigging. How had she made it across the grating in heels and flared black pants? She wore a construction style orange vest over her professionally tailored shirt.

Otherwise the bridge was devoid of movement or traffic. I hoped Sheriff Daniels would hurry up. If Alicia arrived before him, it would be hard to get him alone and fill him in on what I'd learned.

“Where is everyone?” I called to Krissy, coming within earshot.

She looked around and shrugged. “Should be here soon. Come give me a hand, would you?” She held a handful of shiny carabiners and what looked like a climbing harness.

I shuffled my feet to the left side of the bridge, grabbed on to a steel trellis and accidentally looked down. Big mistake. The Columbia River raged below—a long, long way below.

What was I thinking? I had to get off this bridge and fast. My heart pounded. I desperately had to pee. My entire mind went blank. I was losing it.

“You okay?” Krissy asked. “You look pretty pale.”

Digging my left hand into the metal bridge, I thought I might vomit. Heights were bad enough, but heights with one of the largest rivers west of the Mississippi flowing underneath my feet made my stomach churn. Probably a good thing I hadn't found an open coffee shop.

“I'm feeling a tiny bit dizzy this morning.” I held up my bandaged hand. “I think it's from the medication they gave me for this.”

She glanced at my hand and continued untangling the harness.

“How high are we anyway?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek.

“About 2,000 feet. At least that's the distance from here to Thunder Island,” Krissy replied pointing with the carabiners to the island far off in the middle of the river.

“Did I hear you say this is the largest zip-line ever constructed in Oregon?”

“That's right. We're going to say that on the show anyway. Too bad no one else will have a chance to try it. It has to come down by noon today. All that work for a fifteen-minute shoot. That's showbiz.”

She appraised me and dropped the carbiners in a pile at her feet. They clinked on the bridge. One dropped through. Holding the harness, she said, “Can you try this on for me? It's too hard to make adjustments without anyone in it.”

I gulped. “The harness?”

“Yeah, why?” She looked confused.

“My hand,” I lied. “I thought you meant adjust the zip-line. I don't think I can do it with one hand.”

Krissy ignored my protest and helped me into the harness. I pulled one foot through at a time, holding on to her shoulder with my free hand. After I clumsily stuffed my body into the harness, Krissy cinched straps and added carabiners, walking around my back to secure the other side.

“When did you say Sheriff Daniels and the police were going to arrive?” I asked as she hoisted the straps from behind. She was surprisingly strong.

“I didn't.”

The hard edge in her voice sent a shiver up my spine. Something about her tone made me begin to panic. Gam believed I had
the gift
of immediate intuition. Slowly I turned around.

A gun pointed directly at my forehead. Krissy's piercing eyes stared at me from behind the gun and her librarian glasses. Her body was perfectly poised, as if she was about to perform a Pilates move.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to remain casual and locking my knees to keep them from shaking. I'd never been this close to a gun.

“I'm done with your stupid little innocent act.” She pushed the barrel of the gun closer to my face. “Get moving. You're going for a ride this morning.”

My head screamed
Run!
But instead I took a tiny step backward. What was going on? Krissy was involved in this? Had she partnered with Alicia? But why? None of this made sense.

“Krissy, I don't understand. What have I done?”

“Shut up, you stupid bitch.” Spit sprayed from her mouth as she motioned me backward with the gun. “Stop playing games with me. You have no idea who you're playing with here.”

Keep her talking
; I heard Pops' voice in my head.

“I'm not playing any game,” I said, holding both hands in the air. “I swear.”

“Enough,” she commanded. “I'm not letting an idiot schoolgirl ruin all my hard work. Now let's get you hooked to the zip-line. Won't it be a shame, when we learn the harness failed? Such a tragedy.”

“Wait,” I pleaded. “What about Alicia?”

A wave of surprise crossed over Krissy's otherwise stoic face. “Alicia? What does that slut have to do with anything?”

“She killed Lenny.”

What was I saying? Of course Alicia wasn't the murderer since Krissy was pointing a gun at my face. But why?

Krissy laughed, keeping her eyes and the gun focused on me. “Please. You've got to be kidding me. Drop the act anytime.”

“I'm not acting. I thought Alicia killed Lenny. That's why I sent you the text. I was planning to tell Sheriff Daniels this morning before she got here.”

For a brief moment I noticed the gun waver in Krissy's hand. It took her less than a second to regain her composure and her grasp on the gun. “Joke's on you. Isn't it? No one's coming for hours.” She motioned to the cathedral sky. “We can't shoot in this light.”

The shock of having a gun pointed at me and Krissy's rage wore off, replaced by an intense internal fight for a solution.

I could run, but the tollbooth was at least a half mile away. Crying for help was futile.

What's the worst that could happen if she sent me sailing down the zip-line? A 2,000 foot descent into the water. I couldn't survive that. And if I did, the water temperature couldn't be much higher than forty degrees. I wouldn't survive long. Not to mention the fact the river was running high with spring runoff. The current would probably swallow me before I'd have a chance to kick myself up to the surface. And I'd have to contend with debris—floating logs eighty to ninety feet long. No, I was going to have to find another way out of this.

“Krissy.” I tried to keep my voice calm, holding my injured hand across my diaphragm to steady my breathing. “You don't have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she hissed. “Lenny's out of my life for good and now I clean up this one loose end and everything I've worked hard for will happen.”

“I don't understand. You weren't there. How could you have killed Lenny? Or did you and Alicia team up?”

“Ha! What's your obsession with Alicia? I do my own dirty work, thank you.” She looked at her pointed black heels. “I'm pretty fast when I'm not wearing these babies.”

Something clicked in my brain. “The deer trail! That was you?”

“Ah, now you're catching on. There are definite advantages to scouting out locations. Like finding hiding spots.”

“But Dave's hat? I found it on the trail.”

“You found it there, because
I
put it there. If you would have left this whole thing alone from the beginning, we wouldn't be in this position now, would we? But no, you couldn't let it go. Come on, I want to get you hooked up. Let's go.” She pushed me three steps farther back.

Keeping the gun aimed steadily at me, she motioned to the pile of carabiners on the ground.

“Grab those.”

As I bent over to grab the carabiners I noticed a faint light coming from the far end of the bridge on the Oregon side. Krissy's back was to the light. I had to keep her facing me. The glimmer of light might be my only chance for escape.

“Clip that one to this cable,” she said, pointing to a two-inch cable fastened to the bridge.

My hand shook as I tried to attach the cable.

“Use both your hands.”

I could feel the stitches ripping apart as I tried to secure my harness to the cable with both my hands. Fresh red blood seeped through the bandage.

Keep her talking, keep her talking
. I could hear both Pops' and Gam's voices ringing in my ears.

“How did you do it? Lenny was a huge guy. How'd you push him off the cliff?”

“Please. It was so easy.” She reached her head around the pointed gun and looked out into the water. “I found the perfect hideout, waited until everyone ran past and threw a camera at Lenny's feet. When he looked down to check it out I snuck up and pushed him off. He never saw it coming.”

“I still don't understand. What did Lenny do to you?”

An even more severe look flashed across Krissy's face. I wished whatever or whoever was generating the light would hurry up. There was no way she was letting me go.

“What
didn't
he do to me? He ruined my life once and was about to do it all over again. As soon as he took over the show, he'd cut me out. I couldn't let that happen. I've devoted my life to this project. This is my meal ticket. So I worked my own deal with the network. The show's mine. Dave's out. He just doesn't know it yet.”

The light was getting closer; my heart sank a bit. It wasn't from a police car (as I'd been wishing), but a bike. Someone was biking over the bridge. Maybe I could flag them down.

“Get moving,” Krissy demanded. “Put one foot over the guardrail.”

I swallowed bile. “Listen, Krissy, it doesn't have to be like this. I swear I won't tell a soul. We can end it now. You walk away. No one else gets hurt.”

“Is that right, little Miss Reporter? You're gonna let me walk away. Yeah, right. Get your leg over.” She waved the gun again.