Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(61)

Grabbing his supplies in one hand, he stumbled along the riverbank, sticking to the rocks to avoid leaving tracks. The old-man sneakers he’d stolen had decent traction, but Evan’s body was weakening. Sinking the canoe had sapped his strength. His head spun, and his thigh muscles felt soft and rubbery.

The sun was starting to dip toward the trees as the day faded toward evening. On the horizon, dark clouds approached. He didn’t know exactly what time it was, but the thought of spending the night outside in the rain made his eyes fill. His stomach clenched with hunger pangs. He sat down on a rock and fished into the nylon bag for a can of peaches and the can opener. He ate every section of sweet fruit with his fingers, then drank the juice from the can, making sure to get every last drop. Fluid was precious, and his supplies were running low already.

He rinsed the can in the river. If he could find a safe, concealed place to start a fire, he could filter water through a T-shirt and boil it in the can the way Paul had showed him. It might not taste great, but it would be safe to drink.

Opening one of the stolen water bottles, he washed down the peaches. His mouth and throat were still dry. The ibuprofen was taking the edge off his fever, but between the heat, the humidity, and his elevated body temperature, he could not stay hydrated. He ran his tongue over his lips. They felt chapped and dry.

He picked up his bags again, hoisted them over his good shoulder, and started walking. The rocky trail was rough. Normally, he and Rylee hung out at the overlook on the other side of the ravine from the falls. He had no idea how to get down on this side. The trail twisted and became steep. He rounded a bend. The trail opened and gave him a view of the waterfall from the opposite side. He was at the top of the ravine.

Sitting on his haunches, he caught his breath and stared at the falls. White water rushed off a rock ledge into a deep pool forty feet below. The pool at the bottom was circular, maybe fifty feet in diameter, and was surrounded by sheer rock walls on three sides. The fourth side opened up to rocky ledges and holes where the water would eventually make its way to the lake. The water looked deep, even though the force of the falls churned up the sediment and turned the entire basin murky. Foam floated on the surface.

Gray-and-black clouds hung low on the horizon, and the air was heavy with a coming storm. He needed to find shelter. On the other side of the ravine, there was an observation deck at the top of the falls. It had wooden steps that led down to a second lower deck and finally to the ground. From there, you could walk to the lake, which was about two hundred yards away. The water from the falls flowed from the pool over a wide section of shallow white water filled with big rocks and narrow pools before it turned and circled around to dump into the lake. The water was fenced off from the public area and several signs proclaimed it DANGEROUS and warned visitors to KEEP OFF THE ROCKS.

But there were no such accommodations on this side of the ravine. He’d have to climb down, cross the white water using the boulders that stuck out of it as stepping-stones, and climb over the safety fence.

He scanned the trail below him. The last twenty feet of the descent were very steep. Could he slide down on his ass? He could use the rope he’d stolen. But once he’d climbed down, how would he get back up if he needed to make a quick escape? He wouldn’t. Rope climbing wasn’t possible with one hand.

He made his way down the first ten feet and looked over the edge. Now that he was closer, he could see that the descent wasn’t as impossible as he’d first thought. The walls of the ravine weren’t completely vertical. They were made up of large sheared-off slabs of rock. Small ledges formed irregular, narrow steps. Weeds sprouted between the rocks. At the bottom, small trees grew in crevices. He tied the rope to a nearby tree trunk and used it as a backup safety measure, winding it loosely around his waist and holding it in his good hand in case he lost his footing. He began his descent, moving painstakingly from foothold to foothold. Ten feet from the bottom, his foot caught in a vine. It snapped under the weight of his body, and he slid down the rock face eighteen inches until he hit the end of the rope. The jolt sent pain shooting through his arm.

He unwound the rope, righted his body, and finished the descent. His weak knees gave out, and he landed in a patch of waist-high weeds. His tailbone rang on impact, but he’d survived. He stood on shaky legs and stared into a small cave.

The cave had been formed by two giant flat-sided rocks leaning on each other. The opening hadn’t been visible from above, but his fall had flattened weeds and dislodged a section of intertwined vines and moss to reveal the entrance. It wasn’t much wider than Evan’s arm span, if he could have held both arms out. He tied the rope to a tree trunk. The tan color blended in with the rocks.

He stuck his head inside the cave. Empty and dry, it extended about ten feet to the base of the rocks. The ground rose slightly in elevation toward the rear. Daylight shone through the top, where the two boulders met. He crawled all the way to the back. Here, the cave ceiling was about four feet high. No one would be able to see him from the outside. When the thunderstorm broke tonight, at least Evan would be able to stay mostly dry. The last thing he needed was another soaking-wet night.

He wanted to lie down and sleep, but instead of resting, he stowed his meager supplies in the cave and took the nylon bag with him as he went looking for firewood.

He had matches. Maybe he could risk a small fire tonight. He didn’t want to be spotted, but the opening at the top of the cave would draw the smoke up like a chimney, and the spray and mist that rose from the waterfall would conceal the smoke as it escaped.