Page 57 of Peak Suspicion
Within seconds, she was the only one left. She began gathering papers and straightening chairs. She thought of the first responders, heading out in the dark to search for someone’s child. This must be a parent’s worst nightmare. And she thought of the child, and said a prayer that they would be found safe.
It put her own problems in perspective, and reminded her that if she was ever in trouble again, there were people who would respond to help.
The scene aboveDixon Pass was tense, spotlights illuminating the figure of the fifteen-year-old boy near the center span of the bridge over the canyon, the road closed to traffic, rescuers arrayed on either side of the bridge, fearful of approaching too close. “He’s threatened to jump,” Deputy Declan Owen said. “He says he wants to die. A photographer was trying to get a shot of the moon reflected in the water below the bridge and spotted the boy and called it in.”
“Do we know who he is?” Danny asked.
“We don’t,” Deputy Owen said. “He said his parents kicked him out of the house and he doesn’t have anywhere to go.”
Carter winced, thinking of his own close family. He couldn’t imagine anything he could have done that would have made his parents ask him to leave home. Not at fifteen.
“We’re trying to get a professional on scene,” the deputy continued. “Meanwhile, we need to be ready to move in quickly.”
“We can stage rescue climbers above and below the bridge,” Danny said. “And a water rescue crew in case he goes into the water.”
Carter looked over the side of the bridge to the water splashing over shallow rocks below. If the kid jumped into that, the odds were high the water rescue would turn into a body recovery.
“What’s the ETA on the professional?” Danny asked.
Owen shook his head. “We’ve made some calls but we haven’t found anyone yet. They’ll probably have to come from Junction, or farther.”
“We may not have that kind of time,” Danny said. “Let Carter talk to him.”
Carter took a step back. “What if I say the wrong thing? I’m no professional.”
“You have good instincts,” Danny said. He looked at Declan. “He does. I’m seen him in action. He talked a woman with dementia off a ledge.”
“She wasn’t threatening to kill herself,” Carter said.
“Don’t try to talk him out of taking his own life,” Declan said. “Just keep him talking until we get someone else to help.”
“I can try,” Carter said. His chest hurt, thinking about the possibility that he might mess up.
“Take this.” Danny handed him a radio. “That way we can communicate with each other.”
The walk to the middle was a long way in the darkness. He followed the white line on the edge of the roadway, his boots crunching on loose gravel. A brisk wind swept down the canyon, cutting through his SAR windbreaker. He wondered if the kid on the span below had a jacket.
He stopped at the edge of the spotlight, at what he judged to be the middle of the bridge. Leaning over, he could see the curve of the supporting structure. The boy stood with his back against the concrete, one hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the spotlight. Carter keyed the radio. “Cut the light,” he said. “You’re blinding him.”
A few seconds later, the light blinked, then went out. Carter leaned over to look again. The boy was only a thicker shadow in the darkness now. “My name’s Carter,” he said.
“Are you a shrink?” the boy said. “Sent to talk me out of jumping?”
“No. I’m a Jeep tour guide. I take tourists around in a Jeep and tell them about the mountains.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“I collect stories.”
“You what?”
“I collect stories. I want to know yours.”
“I don’t even know you. Why should I tell you anything?”
“Fair enough. Maybe I’ll tell you my story.”
“What’s your story?”
