The Middle of Somewhere(74)

Dante wavered as he got to his feet. He took her hand and they joined the McCartneys at a picnic table. It was past lunchtime but no one got out their food. Linda slumped over the table, head on her arms. Paul rested a hand on her back. Away from the dead body, Liz’s head cleared a little. She studied the bridge and the woods, intent.

Dante handed her a water bottle. “What are you looking for?”

“Our friends the Roots.”

“You think they did this?”

“It’s possible. They didn’t exactly take a shine to Mr. Hollywood. He broke the code.”

Dante nodded.

Paul glanced downstream. “Of course, where we found him is also consistent with falling off the bridge.”

Liz pointed at the structure. “I know it sways, but it’d be hard to fall off without help.”

Linda raised her head. The creases in her face had deepened since the morning. “Remember, Brensen had a concussion not three days ago. He was falling over his own feet.”

“What about his forehead?” Dante said, squinting to shut out the image. “Could that have happened when he fell?”

“Sure,” Paul said.

Liz shrugged. Paul’s hypothesis was as valid as hers and she was too upset to debate it. They couldn’t establish cause of death sitting there, but they did need a plan.

Hands trembling, she pulled the map out of her pocket, spread it on the table and pointed to their current location. “We’re fifteen point four miles from Roads End, where I think there’s a permit station, which may or may not be open. Cedar Grove is another six miles.”

“So at least another day’s hiking in that direction,” Paul said.

“Right. But the Rae Lakes ranger station is seven miles this way.” She indicated south on the JMT.

“Isn’t that where we were going anyway?” Dante said.

“Yes.”

“But the ranger may not be there.”

“They’re not innkeepers,” Paul said. “They patrol the trail.”

“They pick up trash,” Linda added. “And help hikers in trouble.” Her voice caught.

Paul gave her a sympathetic look. “How much farther from Rae Lakes to civilization?”

Liz added up the mileage for each segment. “Exactly twelve miles to the Onion Valley trailhead. Then we could hitch a ride into Independence.”

“So, that’s our plan. But you and Dante don’t have to hike out. Two people are more than enough to report a dead body.”

That depends on how you think it got that way, Liz thought.

Dante turned to Liz. “Paul’s right. We haven’t got far to go.”

“True.” She held his gaze, acknowledging his commitment to finish the hike. “Let’s see what happens at Rae Lakes, okay?”

Paul pulled the towel off Brensen’s head and took a photo to show the authorities. Liz opened the actor’s waterlogged pack and removed a tent.

“What do you want that for?” Dante said.

“To wrap him up. A winding sheet.”

“We’re going to bury him?”

“No. We’re discouraging the animals.”

Dante blanched and sat heavily on a rock. “Don’t tell me anything else.”

She slipped the tent from its sack and positioned the orange rectangle next to Brensen. The four of them lifted him onto it, everyone looking somewhere other than at his face. Liz shook out the fly and draped it over the body. Linda retrieved the guy lines from a small pouch that had fallen to the ground. Paul hoisted the head end of the bundle, then the foot end so the women could loop the lengths of cord around it in four sections, tucking the fly under the body. A wave of nausea rolled through Liz each time her hands contacted the solidity of Brensen’s flesh beneath his sodden clothing. She drew the last length of cord around his ankles and crawled away to a rock where she hugged her knees to her chest. Paul tied the knots while everyone looked on. Dante closed Brensen’s pack, propped it against a tree and stood back from the others.

Brensen lay encased in his orange nylon shroud. They’d done everything they could. But despite her desire to leave this tragedy behind, Liz was reluctant to leave. It seemed wrong to abandon him here where it would soon be dark and cold. She choked back tears and chewed her lip. It made no sense to be troubled by the vulnerability of the dead.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE