3

Sticking straight up in the gap between two exercise-ball-sized rocks, thirty feet to the right of the trail, was a foot.

The pale bare foot of what seemed to be a young woman.

Obscured by the rock, the rest of the body wasn’t visible.

Thank God for small mercies, Kit Hagen thought.

She and Braddock glanced at each other grimly in the hollow’s half light.

“What time yesterday evening did you arrive here?” Braddock said to the ranger as he unslung his pack.

“It was a little after eight,” Barber said. “Eight oh seven, I think. It’s in my report up in the truck.”

“And no one else has been here? No supervisors or coworkers? No one?” Braddock said.

“No one,” Barber said. “Not unless they snuck in under my truck last night. A hundred feet down the trail is covered with a rockslide. That trail we came down is the only way in or out.”

“Give us a break already,” Sheriff Kirkwood said to the agent. “We weren’t down here taking selfies if that’s what you’re worried about. I wanted to bring in county homicide from the second the call came in, but Park Service said you guys said to hold off. I know this isn’t DC, but even hick hayseeds like us like to think we’re at least a little professional.”

“So you’ve been here all night?” Kit Hagen said to Barber.

Barber nodded.

“It’s okay. I got no problem with overtime.”

“And I take it you’re wearing the same boots,” Braddock said as he sat on a rock and pulled a pair of blue surgical booties over his own.

“Yep,” the lanky ranger said, looking down at his Redwings. “These ones aren’t even hardly broken in.”

“Okay, gentlemen. You can wait right here,” Braddock said, tossing Hagen a pair of rubber gloves. “This won’t take long. We’re just going to go over and look and take some pictures, and we’ll head back up. The other members of our team will be by later for the full scene processing.”

“Actually, do either of you have a phone?” Kit Hagen said. “I left mine back in the Tahoe.”

“No, sorry,” Barber said, patting his pockets. “Mine’s in my truck, too.”

“I have one, but good luck getting service,” Sheriff Kirkwood said, taking a smartphone out of his jacket pocket.

“He’s right,” Barber said. “Nearest cell site is thirty miles away. If you need to call someone, only the radio back in my truck is powerful enough to reach the station.”

“No, it’s not that,” Hagen said as she started unzipping her camera bag. “We need video. Could you tape us working from over here? We usually forget where we step or what have you so it’s helpful to have everything documented when we look back later.”

“Okay, sure,” Sheriff Kirkwood said as he stood up from the rock he’d been sitting on.

He took out a pair of reading glasses and began tapping and flicking at the phone screen with a forefinger.