Long Road to Mercy (Atlee Pine, #1)(7)

“Okay, but there had to be plenty of hikers and boaters at the Bright Angel Campground next to Phantom Ranch. The Ranch can’t accommodate all of them, and the rest go to Bright Angel for the most part. And while I know it’s ‘a long way away,’ the mule had to get from the Ranch corral to here.”

Lambert said, “There were lots of people there. But no one we talked to saw or heard anything.”

She said, “More to the point, who has the balls to lean under a mule and start slicing into its belly?”

Brennan said, “Right. And my two cents? You gut a mule you’re going to hear it in the next county.”

Pine eyed the saddle. “Okay, so who and where is the rider?”

“Benjamin Priest,” said Rice. “No sign of him.”

Brennan took up the thread. “He came down yesterday. Part of a crew of ten.”

“That’s your limit, right?” said Pine.

“Yeah. We bring two groups each day. We were in the first group.”

“So, he rode down here and then what?”

“We stopped overnight at Phantom. We were going to head out this morning after breakfast. Over the Black Bridge and back up to the South Rim. Just like normal.”

“It’s about five and a half hours down and close to the same back up?” said Pine.

“Just about, yeah,” agreed Brennan.

Pine surveyed the area. It was over eighty degrees on the canyon floor and twenty degrees cooler on the South Rim. She could feel the sweat collecting on her face and armpits and around the small of her back.

“When was it noticed that Priest was missing?”

Rice said, “This morning when folks came to the dining hall for breakfast.”

“Where was Priest staying? In one of the dorms or a cabin?”

Brennan said, “One of the cabins.”

“Tell me about last night.”

Brennan said, “They all had dinner in the dining hall. Some folks played cards, wrote postcards. Some sat on boulders and cooled their feet in the creek. Typical stuff. Then everyone went off to their sleeping quarters, including Priest.”

“When was the last time anyone saw him?”

Rice answered, “Best as we can tell, around nine last night.”

“But no one actually saw him get in his bunk or leave the cabin later?”

“No.”

“So how did Sallie Belle get here?” she asked, looking at Brennan.

“At first I just thought she had gotten out somehow. Then I noticed her saddle and bridle were missing. Someone had to put them on her.”

She continued to watch Brennan. “What were you thinking when the mule was missing?”

“Well, I thought maybe somebody had decided to go off on a joyride before breakfast.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen folks do some crazy shit down here.”

“Describe Priest.”

“Late forties, early fifties. About five feet eight. Around one eighty.”

“White? Black?”

“White. Dark hair.”

“Good shape?”

“He was thick. But not really overweight. No marathon runner, though.”

“You have a two-hundred-pound limit for mule riders?”

Brennan nodded. “That’s right.”

“Did you ever talk to him?”

“Some, coming down.”

“Seem nervous?”

“He looked a little green a few times. Mules have fused spines and they walk along the outside of the trail. So their torsos and, along with them, the riders, are sometimes going to be over the edge. It can be unnerving at first. But he soldiered on.”

She looked at Lambert. “What do you have on him?”

Lambert took out a notebook and unclipped the cover. “He’s from DC. Works at one of those Beltway government contractors. Capricorn Consultants.”

“Family?”

“Not married, no children. Has a brother who lives in Maryland. Parents are deceased.”

“So you’ve notified him?”

“He was listed as the emergency contact on Priest’s paperwork. We let him know that his brother is missing.”

“I’ll need his contact info.”

“I’ll email it to you.”

“How did his brother sound?”

Rice answered. “Worried. He wanted to know if he should fly out. I told him to sit tight. Most people who go missing do turn up okay.”

“But some don’t,” replied Pine. “Where’s his stuff?”

Lambert said, “Gone. Must’ve taken it with him.”

Rice said, “His brother phoned Priest after I talked to him. Also tried his email. He called me back and told me there was nothing. No response.”

“Social media activity?”

“I didn’t think to ask about that,” said Rice. “I can follow up.”

“How’d he get here? Car? Bus?”

“I heard him say he came by the train,” volunteered Brennan.

“Where was he staying?”

Rice said, “We checked at El Tovar, Bright Angel, Thunderbird, and the rest of the possible places. He wasn’t booked at any of them.”

“He had to stay somewhere.”