Breaking Wild

I’d read the reports of lion attacks, but those attacks hadn’t taken place in remote areas such as this where the lion had plenty of hunting ground. Lion were typically wary of people.

“She was wearing camouflage,” Jeff said. “She’d probably taken great pains to get rid of her human scent, sprayed herself with some estrus. Maybe she knelt down to tie her boot. She could have been crouched low while she was following the elk. I’ve always heard lion don’t see too good.”

Jeff was right. Amy Raye could have been an easy target.

“Two more dogs trained in avalanche searches are being deployed tomorrow. They’re heading up from Garfield County,” I told him.

“There’s more snow in the forecast.”

“That’s what I hear.”

“Be like wading through heavy water,” Jeff said.



After the gun and hat were found, Colm told reporters, “We are in the phase of realizing the worst.” Eighteen inches of snow were expected to fall over the next two days with gusts up to forty miles per hour. With the new evidence and weather forecasts, the search had officially moved into recovery mode.

“It’s too dangerous,” Colm said to me. “We’re going to end up losing one of our own. We caught a small break in the weather today. We’re not going to be so lucky the rest of the week.”

Giovanni’s in Rangely had delivered pizzas for the search crew. I brought Colm a plate with two slices of cold pizza and sat down beside him. A reporter was sleeping on the floor next to the stove. The other reporters had gone.

“What is it? Two in the morning?” Colm asked.

“Something like that.”

Colm took a bite of the pizza and then offered it to me.

“No, thanks.”

“Did you eat?”

“I did.”

“You heading back to town?” Colm asked.

“Yeah, in a few minutes.”

Amy Raye’s quiver and bow were on the table. In front of the quiver, laid out evenly, were its contents: an Allen wrench, a wrist-strap bow release, a bottle of Zephyr spray, an eight-by-eleven-inch topo map that had been creased and folded, and a Suunto directional compass.

“The husband identified the quiver and the bow. Nice work.”

“And the compass?” A wave of defeat grabbed hold of me. “At least there isn’t a suicide note.”

“Not that we found. Dean’s clearing out her camp now, gathering her things.”

“What about the missing arrow?” I asked.

“We talked to her friends. They didn’t know what to make of it. All they knew was that she didn’t take the shot when she was with them.”

“Are you thinking the arrow was part of a suicide plan?” I asked.

“I’m thinking it might be. She marked the spot where she left her quiver and bow. She knew someone would eventually come upon them. With the arrow missing, we could assume she was tracking an elk. Without her compass and map, we’d think she became lost, died of natural causes.”

“Have you thought any more about the lion?”

“I’m not sure what to make of that, but I’m not ruling it out.”

“Where is the husband now?” I asked.

“His sister’s with him. She got in a couple of hours ago. Had someone else watch the kids.”

Static broke over the radio. Another team was reporting in. Still negative on any more findings.

“Was the husband here when I made the call about the hat?”

“Sitting right where you are. You’ve seen the families before. I don’t have to tell you what it did to him.”

In all of my eight years working Kona as a search-and-rescue dog, I’d only been on four searches where the subject wasn’t found alive, and each of those times, the subject’s body was recovered. The last time was the previous winter when a young man had been snowmobiling with his father. The boy had gotten trapped in an avalanche. The father saw the whole thing happen. The boy was only seventeen. Kona was the one who discovered the body.

“So the gun was hers?” I asked.

“The husband said she didn’t own a gun. They didn’t allow guns in the house on account of the kids. He thought the gun belonged to one of the guys she was with. We got a confirmation from the two friends when they got back in. Said she had borrowed the gun from Kenny, the younger of the two. Forensics will be able to confirm with us whether the gun was fired.”

“And the hat?”

“We’ll look for traces of gunshot. But I don’t think there’s any question the blood is hers.”

Colm finished the slice of pizza.

“How are you holding up?” I asked. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m all right. Thanks.” Then he pushed the plate away. “There’s something else. I made a couple of calls tonight. Thought Amy Raye must have some family that should know what was going on.”

“Wouldn’t that be the husband’s job?”

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