Page 12 of Disappearance at Angel's Landing
Branch came back to himself. Remembered why they were out here, in the middle of nowhere, and who they were tracking. And that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—put himself in a position to getcarved up again. He’d barely survived the first time. He wasn’t so sure he’d be able to pull himself back together after a second.
And Lila Jordan was capable of ending worlds with a smile on her face and that laugh that followed him into his dreams. Even if it was all a lie. “Turns out I’m not the only one.”
Her mouth parted at the jab. It’d been a cheap shot but necessary to keep the professional distance between them. She’d been right before. They weren’t friends. They were coworkers. Nothing more. So why did watching her slide into her Barbie persona piss him off so much?
“With all due respect, Ranger Thompson, intercourse yourself.” Lila didn’t wait for his response, turning back to the path without seeing the grin splitting his face. Was that her professional way of telling him to—
She pulled up short.
Branch’s defenses caught the change in her body language, and he maneuvered around her to get a better look ahead.
A campsite.
Abandoned but clear evidence that someone had been there in the past few hours, possibly as early as an hour ago considering the dying embers of the fire. It wasn’t anything much—a few rocks set in a circle with blackened twigs and a dead log in the center. What looked like an empty sandwich bag had caught in a bush nearby. Flattened dirt suggested the killer might’ve rolled out a sleeping bag or mat. Simple. Purely for survival.
Zion didn’t accept backcountry permits for this area, nor did it approve of campfires in any capacity. Which meant they were most likely looking at the remnants of the killer’s campsite. Streaks cut through the dirt as though the killer had tried to cover his tracks, and from what Branch could make out, there were no identifying treads in the footprints. Like their suspecthad filled his boot treads with something to erase anything that could lead to him. “Stay back.”
“I would rather take a trailer hitch to the shins.” Lila broke through the barrier he’d made between her and the campsite, throwing him off-balance enough to pitch him to one side. Great. Ranger Barbie had gone feral. This was going to end poorly. For him. “I’m trained in search and rescue. Isn’t that why you brought me along on this little field trip?”
Right. Not because he’d been intrigued by the pretty demon. Branch scanned the surrounding landscape, unable to pick up any other signs of life. Defeat coated the back of his throat in acid. “It’s too late. The killer has already disappeared.”
Chapter Nine
There wasn’t much left of the campsite. At least nothing that they could use to identify Sarah Lantos’s killer. Why had she and Branch been given that responsibility again? They couldn’t be the only ones brought into the search. Zion National Park stretched over two hundred and thirty-two square miles. It would take weeks, if not months, to cover that much ground, and even if they got lucky and found a clue as to where the killer had gone, they were at risk out here in the open. Exposure, rock falls, flash floods… So many ways a national park could kill a person. Which meant they were most likely one of several teams involved in the search.
Lila scanned the campsite for something—anything—to give them a direction. This valley branched into several other canyons, each leading in a different direction. While she had her theories as to where a sane person might go from here, it relied solely on whether the killer had done his research of the area, had come prepared or wasn’t completely out of his damn mind.
Could anyone who’d taken a person’s life be considered in a healthy mental state? She couldn’t answer that.
The boot treads left behind weren’t anything she’d come across before. Patternless. Brandless. Useless. There was no way to prove this campsite belonged to the killer without aHey, it’s me. I murdered that womansign, but what were the chances they had stumbled across a random site after descending Angel’sLanding? “Based on the distance between the cliff and this campsite, I’d say we’re on the right trail. He was here. Probably within the past couple of hours.”
The weight of Branch’s attention slid down her spine. He’d been watching her for a few minutes, whether he realized it or not. Any move she made seemed to intensify his presence, but she wasn’t going to let him get to her again.
“Why wait?” Two words. That was enough.
She could practically feel the vibration of his voice across the empty space between them, as though he was standing within mere inches, which was nuts. Her mouth dried at the thought of all the other things he could say to her with that deep tone. Things he might whisper in the dark, tangled in her sheets with her secured against his unyielding chest.
Nope. Not happening. He’d made that perfectly clear. He didn’t get close to people for a reason, and after he’d told her about his horrible experience with his ex, she didn’t blame him. How did a person come back from something like that? From that kind of betrayal?
Blood drained from her face. Wait. What was his question again? “What do you mean?”
“The window of when Sarah Lantos died is between ten and two yesterday afternoon.” Branch kicked at the ring of rocks that reigned in the embers still smoldering. “If this site belongs to the killer, why wait until this morning to flee? Why not get as far from the crime scene as possible while he could?”
Lila circled the campsite for the—she didn’t know how many times—and followed the streaks carved into the dirt. Trying to cover his tracks? No. That didn’t feel right. Not with the lack of treads in the killer’s boots. Attempting to erase his presence would be redundant, and leaving a sandwich bag voided all that hard work.
But Branch had a point. Why stay here when rangers and the medical examiner’s office would be all over the scene literally less than a half mile away? This clearing acted as a starting point that split into multiple escape routes through the valleys and backcountry trails. Maybe he hadn’t meant to stay as long as he had.
Crouching beside one of the divots, she caught the pattern. Not with the treads but in the steps themselves. “Because he was injured.”
Branch entered her peripheral vision, the scent she’d always attributed to him—cedar and something clean—driving into her system.
“See?” Guiding her finger over the nearest streak without disrupting the dirt, Lila ended at the empty boot print to the left. Then another streak, complete with a second boot print. Again to the left. Then a third.
“He wasn’t trying to erase his tracks. His right leg is dragging behind his left.” Branch took position beside her, only inches between them. One shift in her weight, and she’d get everything she’d craved in the past few months. It was as close as he’d ever voluntarily gotten, but Lila had to remind herself there was nothing personal about his proximity. He was simply trying to get a closer look at what she saw. “Would he have been able to scale Angel’s Landing with an injury like this?”
“Depends on how old it is.” That woodsy scent filled her, warmed her from the inside, and she breathed it in a bit deeper. If this was all she could have of Branch Thompson, she’d die a happy woman. Ugh, that sounded pathetic. Months of this crush must’ve warped her brain. “If it’s a disability, he may have learned to compensate on his climbs over years of conditioning and training, but if it’s recent, I don’t see how.”
“So it’s possible Sarah Lantos could’ve fought back and injured her attacker.” Why did Branch sound hopeful about thatpossibility? Like he wanted the killer to suffer for what he’d done? Deep lines etched between his brows as Branch seemed to memorize the tracks in front of them, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to smooth them away. To offer him some kind of comfort.
