“They were supposed to be at the concert. What kind of situation?”
Colm went on to tell me about Dean responding to the scene in East Douglas Creek. He’d found a truck parked along one of the roads that led off the Rangely Loop Trail, but no passengers. He was going to leave his vehicle and head in on foot. He called in the license plate for a red and silver GMC pickup. The truck was registered under my name.
“What’s Joseph’s cell phone number?” Colm asked. “I’m going to try to give him a call.”
“If he’s up there, he won’t have a signal,” I said. “Can you give me an exact location of the pickup?”
“BLM Route 23-Bravo off County Road Quebec-38,” Colm said. “Dispatch has the coordinates. I’m heading there now. I’m about forty minutes en route. I’ll let you know if anything changes. And, Pru, I’ve got Farrell with me.”
“I’m on my way,” I said. “I’ll have my radio and cell phone.”
The area Colm had described was close to the Coos shelter where Joseph and I had camped. They’d probably headed out there after the concert and brought their guns with them. I’d warned both of them about shooting their guns after dark, and I hoped they hadn’t been drinking.
As soon as I got off the phone with Colm, I tried calling Joseph, but there was no answer. I sent him a text: Call me.
—
The darkness below her looked like the sea. She could be on a bluff in Scotland or New Brunswick or Vancouver, even though she had never visited those places. She was kneeling on the ridge, imagining these things, when a burst of fireworks exploded from what must have been another ridge across the canyon floor. She scrambled to her feet. “Over here! Over here!” But as much as her body had weakened and diminished, so had her voice. As with lightning and thunder, Amy Raye tried to determine the distance by timing the seconds between the sound and light, but she could not be sure. Maybe a mile. She fumbled around for the matches in her pack. She had only two left. She placed the canister in the side pocket of her pants. Her emergency fire-starter kit would take too long. She still had her elk call. She blew into the tube, but her faint puff of breath was not strong enough to emanate a bugle or make a louder noise.