“Hang tight. I’ll be right down.”
“No, it’s too steep. Find some help. Get Chee. We’ll have a challenge getting Palmer out of here.”
Lee kept coming. “I’m an old medic, remember?”
She heard rocks jostling loose, skidding footsteps.
“Is he conscious?”
“Barely.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“No. I just found him. It looks like he fell.”
Palmer squeezed her hand, and she saw terror in his eyes. He shook his head no.
The clattering overhead grew closer. She heard a change in Lee’s tone. “I can see Palmer’s coat now. Climb back to the trail and start to hike out. We’ll probably need a copter to evac him. Go get that process started. I’ll stay with him.”
“Palmer’s frightened. I don’t want to leave him alone. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I was helping Denny Duke and his mom at the food truck. And I figured it would be good for someone with some emergency experience to be on the trip, just in case something went wrong. I noticed Palmer walking out toward the rim, looking down at the fog. He was stumbling. When I didn’t see him come back for lunch, I got worried, so I went searching for him.”
Looking for Palmer but not calling his name? “Did you tell Chee?”
“I didn’t have a chance. You should go for help. Every minute you wait increases the chance of his dying.”
She heard Lee traversing the slope as he spoke, knocking rocks loose to cascade toward her and Palmer. She heard him swearing. Then came a different noise, a dry, shuffling sound like a person riding the soles of his boots down a scree field.
She spoke softly to Palmer. “Are you afraid of Lee?”
He nodded, but she knew confusion sometimes accompanied diabetic shock. Still, it was odd that Lee could arrive again to help an injured man. Odd that a medic and building contractor would volunteer to work at a food truck. She recalled the Lieutenant’s warning about coincidences.
Lee appeared above them. He took the last few steps toward the place Palmer was wedged and turned to Bernie.
“Let me in there so I can assess the damage.”
She noticed that he had a backpack, larger than hers. Was it filled with emergency supplies? She moved away slightly, and Lee crouched next to Palmer, resting his hips against the tree. “Hey there, can you tell me where you hurt?” He reached for Palmer’s wrist.
Palmer flinched. “Stop.” His voice was a trembling whisper.
“Easy man. I’m just checking your pulse.” Lee turned to Bernie. “You’ve got to go up the rim and find some help. His heart is racing. His skin is cold. We can’t do anything for him here.”
“Do you have a space blanket or something else in your pack that will help him stay warm? Maybe candy that could bring up his blood sugar?”
“Stop with the questions. Go for help.”
Palmer said, “No.”
The fog had grown thicker. It reminded Bernie of the heavy smoke in a sweat lodge, but instead of being hot, she felt uncomfortably cool without her jacket. As she slipped on her backpack, she watched Lee adjust his position, and she saw him put his hand on Palmer’s left arm, just below the questionable shoulder. He leaned down.
Palmer’s howl of pain made her wince. He struggled weakly to free himself from Lee and moaned.
“You’re hurting him. Stop it.”
Lee’s voice had a sharper edge now. “He’s delirious with pain. I think his back is broken. I’ve got something in here to help him, something to take care of that.” Lee reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like an oversized marker.
“What is that?”
Palmer’s eyes opened wide. “Insulin. Bastard.”
“It’s something for pain.” She heard the tension in Lee’s voice. She knew he was lying. Lying and dangerous.
Palmer’s voice rose. “No.”
Bernie put her hand on her gun. “Show me what you’ve got there. I can reassure him. Tension always makes pain worse.”
“What? Say again?”
She knew he had heard her. Then she saw the flicker of a smile.
“I’ll show you. Stand up so you can see better.” Lee moved toward her as she rose, clutching the device in his hand. He lurched and pushed against her, hard.
The unexpected contact launched her off balance before she could draw her weapon. She felt the bone-jarring impact of rocky ground. The energy of the fall and angle of the slope forced her body quickly downhill, sliding headfirst, gaining momentum. Using her legs and heels, arms and fingers, she struggled to slow her descent and to change her position to avoid the worst of what lay before her. She moved too fast for the terror of the situation to catch up with her. The speed of the fall outdistanced the pain.
Finally, her side slammed into the stump of a dead ponderosa and she stopped.
Stunned, she took a minute to gather her wits, let her heart rate slow to what could pass for normal. She lay still, afraid to move or even breath, reconstructing what had just happened. The push was no accident. Lee had probably shoved Palmer, too, and planned to make sure Palmer was dead before she’d interrupted him. What was happening to Palmer now? She forced her breath to quiet so she could listen more closely to possible sounds on the slope above her. At first, she heard only the rush of her own blood in her ears. She stayed motionless, and then noticed the stones clattering. She put her hand on her gun in case Lee had begun the descent to check on her.
Then the noise began to fade. He must be climbing up, away from her.
As she surveyed the bodily damage the fall had caused, she recognized that bone-chilling cold seeped from the ground into her skin, into her blood, and now seemed to circulate into her heart. Her palms stung from the abrasions made by the rocks as she’d struggled to break her fall; her hands were bloody, and several nails had snapped off to the quick. Her back and her hips ached. But fingers and toes, arms and legs responded when she gingerly tested them. Motion hurt, but it was possible. She inhaled deeply, thankful that her ribs didn’t scream with the pain. She winced as she moved her neck, but the effort didn’t make the throbbing in her skull any worse. She could see and hear.
Not only was she alive, she realized she was furious.