Czytaj książkę: «One Mile Under»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

The Cradle

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Adrift

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

The Falls

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

One Mile Under

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Novels by Andrew Gross

About the Publisher

THE CRADLE

CHAPTER ONE

Dani Whalen noticed the first slivers of whitewater ahead on the Roaring Fork River, the current picking up.

“Okay,” she called out to the eight people in helmets and life vests aboard her raft, “it’s been pretty much a nature hike so far. Anyone ready for a little fun?”

As if on cue, the young couple from L.A. decked out in their bright Lululemons, Maury and Steve from Atlanta, he just a month into his retirement from a sales job, and the family from Michigan with their kids in the bow, all shouted back in unison, “We are!” and “Let’s do it!”

“Good to hear!” Dani said, catching the sight of spray up ahead from the opening set of rapids known as Entrance Exam, “’cause you’ve come to the right place.”

Dani was a whitewater guide along the stretch of the river known as Slaughterhouse Falls, outside Aspen, Colorado. And by “fun,” she meant navigating the series of eight Class Three and Four rapids that were the main draw of the river’s four-mile run. Not that there was much real danger. They were all well-protected, of course, and Dani had done this run hundreds of times with barely a hitch. But the first sign of froth rising usually did engender a blanched face or two—Class Fours had a way of doing that to first-timers. But Dani knew exactly how to get them going as well.

On any morning, she could point to an eagle soaring above the tree line, or a long-branch elk with its doe along the river’s edge; or a silver trout streaking underneath them in the current, which was definitely picking up now. That’s why she loved what she did. That, and the triumphant yelps and whoops that were always a part of being shot out of Crossbow, icy water cascading all over you.

But it was the thrill of whitewater that was truly in her blood.

She had been a geology major back in college, back east at Bowdoin in Maine, and she could easily have been in med school or doing fourteen-hours days on Wall Street like a lot of her friends, probably making more in one month than what she pulled in in a season out here. But this river was in her blood. She’d grown up on it. She knew most anyone who had anything to do with it. After college she came back for the summer, and started earning money doing for work what she’d always done for love, and entering a few competitions. She knew she wasn’t exactly building a real life for herself remaining out here—guiding in the summer, teaching snowboarding to the youngsters in the winter—certainly not a career. Her dad was an orthopedic surgeon, at Brigham and Women’s Hospital back in Boston, but he was in Chile right now on a teaching fellowship. Her older sister, Aggie, was in med school in Austin, and her younger brother, Rick, the real brain of the family, was studying 3-D graphic engineering at Stanford.

But Dani loved what she was doing—not to mention she could make it over the Gallows, a Class Five on the Colorado River with a twenty-foot drop, as well as any of the guys. And for her there was no payback better than the wide-eyed thrill and the yelps of exhilaration from a family being shot out of Cartwheel, with its 180-degree spin, to remind her of how much happier she was out here than back east behind a desk somewhere. In her skin-hugging neoprene vest and Oakley shades, her sun-streaked curly blond hair up in a scrunchie, her blue eyes focused on the river up ahead, every day was a reminder, that for the time being at least, she’d made the right choice.

That morning, she was handling the early morning run. Out at eight, back by noon. It was one of those picture-perfect Colorado days: the sky blue, the scent of aspens filling your nostrils, whitewater biting at you from the late spring runoff. Megan and Harlan, nine and eleven, were up in front with their parents right behind them. Dani didn’t want to scare them, though navigating the Falls pushing around two thousand cubic feet per second did require a bit of technique. Everyone was laughing, pitching in paddling, enjoying the ride. Her job was to give them the time of their lives.

As they made their way around Jake’s Bend, for the first time they could see the froth from Entrance Exam rising into the air. That’s when you knew you didn’t come here for a nature ride.

“Look!” Harlan was the first to point up ahead.

“I don’t know …” Dani said teasingly, “those Exams are looking a little angry this morning. I hope everyone studied up!” It was a bit of a performance, of course, to build the tension. The real trick was not letting them realize that. She always loved catching those first looks of anxiousness on everyone’s faces about what lay ahead.

“We may lose a few of you over the side,” she said, “so remember what I said if you end up going in.” Feet-first, and not to struggle against the current. And if they got trapped in an eddy, to just relax, not fight it, and sooner or later it would pop you back out. Dani had to tell them all that—like a flight attendant pointing out the exits on a plane—but in three years of guiding she hadn’t had an incident yet. “You people on the left, I’m gonna need a little help today, okay? I need you to paddle like crazy as soon as I give the word. Otherwise, we won’t make it through. You all up for that?”

They all took hold of their paddles and responded with nods of determination. “We are!”

“Good,” Dani said, maneuvering the raft down the left side of the rapids.

“So what about us …?” Steve, the retired salesman from Atlanta who was on the right side asked with some disappointment.

“Okay, you guys on the right, I didn’t mean to leave you out …” Dani held back, timing it perfectly as they reared, about to go over the first big dip. “All you have to do is just hold on for your lives!”

The froth kicked up and the raft plunged about five feet as she traversed through the tricky S-curve at the top of Entrance Exam, a chute of three interlocking, swirling rapids. The large raft careened against a rock. Everyone screamed as they were thrown up and down, out of their positions. “Okay, left side … Get ready …” Dani warned. “We’re gonna take on some big-time water in a second.” The raft kicked sideways, bouncing up out of a hole like a rubber bath toy in a tub.

“Now, paddle, everyone! Paddle!”

They lurched forward, nine paddles propelling them down the chute, icy water spilling in from all sides. Everyone on the left side worked feverishly, letting out screams and whoops. Dani guided the raft around and they spun through the last part virtually sideways, a huge “Whoa!” sounded as they dropped down another four-foot dip and then bounced out as if ejected by a slingshot, water cascading everywhere.

“All right!” Dani hollered. Everyone was screaming and drenched. “Everyone like that?”

“That was so cool!” Megan shouted, as they made it into a calmer stretch in between rapids.

“We lose anyone?” Dani asked above the whitewater roar. “Look around. I get docked if I don’t bring everyone back. Harlan, still with us, up there?”

The young girl was gleeful. Most fun ever. Her older brother, though, didn’t seem to think so and looked about as white as a ghost. Dani called up front, “What’s the matter, Harlan, you eat something that didn’t agree with you this morning?”

“No, ma’am,” Harlan said, blanched. “That was just really scary, that’s all.”

Everyone laughed.

“Well, now you’re a pro. From here on, it’s a piece of cake. And left side, that was great work! I want to thank you all for pulling us through. I did mention, didn’t I, that this was my first trip down, solo …” They all turned back to her. “No? Gosh, I left that out. I thought I’d told you all that. Well, maybe not my first, actually. I did do a demo run with one of the instructors when they gave me the job.”

Everyone was laughing. Barney’s Revenge was next. A legitimate Class Four. Followed by the Falls. Then One Too Far, where after you’re sure you’re through and start to relax, there’s this unexpected five-foot dip where your stomach drops along with the raft—the spot where Dani always yelled out, “Well, that’s the one too far!”

By Hell’s Half Mile they’d all been scared, exhilarated, bounced around like on a barroom bronco. Totally drenched. There were only a couple of more rapids to go. The Baby’s Cradle and Last Laugh, both less challenging Class Twos and Threes. The river was slightly calmer down here. Flat water, it was called. Though because of all the rains of the past week and the late spring runoff, there was a ton of water pushing them around, so every rapid posed a little challenge.

“Coming up on the Cradle …” Dani called out, a series of five interlocking chutes that gave you the sense of being rocked back and forth, hence the name. The first one always took you by surprise. She said, “I know I kinda gave you all the impression that it was going to be a piece of cake from here on in … Well, sorry—” As if from nowhere, the current grabbed them. “You all better start to paddle, guys … ’cause I’m afraid I lied!”

The next sensation was your stomach plummeting like a jet that had just dropped three thousand feet, dipping and rising, water spilling in. The adrenaline was rising. Everyone screamed. It was slightly tricky here, bounce off a rock and come out of a turn the wrong way and you could capsize. Once, Dani spun around and had had to make it through Slingshot backward and had almost fallen out herself. This time she nailed it perfectly, excited whoops of “All right!” and “Piece of cake!” coming from Harlan, who was now clearly enjoying himself, along with a lot of water-soaked smiles.

“You guys are proving to be tougher than I thought. So next up—” Dani positioned herself to take on the next rapid.

That was when she saw something up ahead along the shore that didn’t seem right.

It was just a flash of red at first, below the third of the Cradle’s rapids, the easiest, called Baby’s Rattle. For a second it just looked like an overturned kayak floating there, which happened occasionally. Everyone else was either paddling or laughing at their drenched raft mates and hadn’t noticed it yet.

But as she drew closer, her worst fears grew real. It wasn’t just a kayak out there, there was something inside. Someone in it. The flash of red she saw turned out to be the rider’s wind jacket. Suddenly the people up front spotted it, too, pointing.

“Oh my God, what’s that! There’s someone in there!” Harlan’s mother exclaimed.

“I see it,” Dani said, feathering the raft closer. “Everyone just stay calm.” Though inwardly she acknowledged that this wasn’t a good sign. “We’re gonna pull in over here and I’ll go take a look.”

She pitched the raft along the easiest route down the next chute, her heart beating anxiously now. She knew most of the people who rode out here, especially the ones who came out this time of the morning.

“I’m gonna pull in over there.” She steered toward a shallow rock bed up ahead along the shore. “I want you to all get out.” That way the raft wouldn’t continue to drift downstream with her team still in it. “Steve, Dale,” she said to the two largest guys, “I want you to help me drag the raft up onto shore. Everyone please wait here. I’m gonna go take a look. I’m really sorry you have to see this.”

They disembarked and dragged the raft up onto the shore bed until it was secure. Dani grabbed the radio out of the nylon gear case and clipped it to her belt. “Everyone, please, wait here. The current’s a little tricky and can take you by surprise. So whatever you do, don’t wade in after me.”

They all muttered, okay.

She ran along the shallow rock bed in her Teva sandals, until she got as close as she could to the overturned craft. It was trapped in an eddy pool, water swirling all around. Some forty feet from where she was. The current was still powerful here, enough to make what she was doing dangerous. Dani traversed her way across the rocks, slick as ice from a few thousand years of water rushing over them, her rubber sandals seeking whatever traction she could find. If she slipped, the current would hurl her down the final leg of the Cradle. She’d be separated from her crew. Not to mention, it was dangerous. She had no helmet. This wasn’t exactly smart.

Once or twice she almost slipped and had to catch herself, whitewater lashing at her legs. The overturned kayak was maybe ten yards from her now, on its side in the swirling pool. No sign of movement inside. The current tugging at her from all around.

Without a rope or a partner, she knew what she was doing really wasn’t the smartest idea.

Finally, she made it across, straddling the eddy where the kayak had come to a stop.

“Can you hear me?” she called out. But whoever was inside wasn’t responding and hadn’t moved. She could see it was a guy, but his face was in the water, the current slashing all around. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, either. Everyone always thought they could take this river without a care. Dani bent down, positioning her legs on the rocks for traction, and flipped the body over on its side.

Her stomach dropped, just as precipitously as if she had plummeted over the falls herself. She stared for a moment, shocked and disbelieving, denial, then sorrow filling her inside.

She knew him.

She stared into the dead rider’s drained, colorless face.

She knew him well.

CHAPTER TWO

Trey Watkins, Charles Alan Watkins III, whom everyone always jokingly referred to as “Your Honor,” because his name sounded more like that of a Supreme Court judge, than someone who could ski the back terrain at Aspen Highlands with the best of them. He’d done a few off-terrain videos in a few Warren Miller ski films—and rock-climbed out at Maroon Bells in the summer. He also used to teach hang gliding off the summit of Ajax.

Dani also knew he could get down this river without a hitch in the worst of conditions, and this surely wasn’t that.

There were abrasions all over his face and a fresh, oozing wound on his skull, and his neck was pitched at a horrifying angle. She grabbed his wrist and looked for a pulse, not finding even a hint of a heartbeat. Oh, Jesus, no … She rested him back down in the river.

Trey.

She knew he came out and did an early run before work sometimes, just to keep his feet in the game, now that he had a regular job. Regular, meaning off of skis, the mountain, or the river. She recalled how a few years back he and Dani had ended up together after last call at the Black Nugget, when Dani had come back after college after her mother had died. It wasn’t much of a relationship, or even what you’d call a fling. Trey wasn’t exactly boyfriend material back then. He was a quiet, rugged guy from a small town up north, and with his long ponytail, his washed-out, blue-eyed smile, and that easy, but confident way, women always seemed to flock to him. As Dani had a couple of times, maybe a little rootless and angry back then over her mom.

But somehow Allie Benton made all that change. Trey settled down, married, cut his hair. He even got a totally “straight” job managing the Outdoor Adventures shop in town. They had a kid. Petey. Who everyone said made Trey a changed man. Dani had last seen him a couple of months ago at the Post Net store in town. He was mailing off an application to the national ski trade show. He’d developed this custom mounting for those GoPro action cameras that skiers and riders put on their helmets, and which they were selling like crazy in the store. Dani remembered thinking, Who’d ever figure Trey Watkins for an entrepreneur? Amazing what having a kid could do.

And here she was staring at him now. Bloodied and crumpled. Those washed-out blue eyes that looked like Roger Daltrey’s of the Who stilled. It didn’t make a bit of sense where they were. Trey could handle a rapid like the Cradle with Petey on his lap. He could do it blindfolded, even with this amount of water being pushed around. Dani inspected his kayak. She didn’t see any gashes or dents. She looked at the oozing abrasion on the side of his head. She just closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.

Poor Trey.

She thought about trying to drag the body out and administer CPR, but he was gone. It was clearly too late. She took out the radio from her belt. The company bus was set to meet them all not too much farther downstream. It was already on its way there.

“Rich. Rich …” she called in. “Can you hear me? It’s Dani.”

No one answered. Only a scratchy static came back.

“Rich, get on the horn, quick, I need you,” she said, trying again. “It’s urgent. Something’s happened here.”

“You at the fords already?” Her tour partner finally came on the line. “God, you’re early, Dani, it’s only—”

“Negative, Rich. I’m at the bottom of the Cradle and we’ve got some trouble here. There’s been an accident.”

“Oh, shit,” he went, imagining the worst. “Everyone okay …?”

“Not us,” Dani said. “It’s Trey Watkins. His raft flipped over. There’s a gash on his head. He’s not breathing, Rich.”

“Trey? Oh my God …” Everyone knew him. “Any sign of a pulse?”

“Negative, again. I can’t believe this, Rich.” Trey could ride with the best of them out here. The most challenging water was all well behind him. She looked back and saw her raft team all gathered on the shore, looking on. “I’m holding him here, Rich. He’s dead.”

CHAPTER THREE

Chief Wade Dunn kneeled down on the rocks overlooking the river, as the Pitkin County Rescue Team pulled the kid out of the water.

Not a kid really. He was twenty-nine. One of those adrenaline junkies around town who did it all. Off-terrain skiing. Paragliding. Mountain biking. The on-site opinion of one of the EMTs who inspected the body was blunt-force trauma to the head and possibly a broken neck. Any one of those rocks could have caused it. No telling how far the raft had continued down. Made you wonder. Wade watched, lifting his Stetson custom cowboy hat. Trey Watkins was also a topflight river rider. This far downriver, he was way past anything that might have been thought of as a challenge. Wade knew his young wife. Allie. Pretty, and must be quite a gal to tame someone like Trey. And things were just starting to take off for the guy. A new kid, and he had this camera-mount business that was just getting off the ground. Allie’s father, Ted Benton, who owned a rib restaurant and a small hotel in town, once joked to Wade that his son-in-law was going to make them all look poor.

Wade watched the rescue boys do their job. Look at him now.

They lowered down a stretcher, then hoisted the body back up the slope, and cut a path in the brush to where the emergency vehicles had parked on the road. Wade stood up and looked at the body as they brought it by. It looked exactly like what it probably was: the kid must’ve flipped and struck his head on the rocks. Enough to cause that wound or to break his neck. Probably trying out some slick new move. Grab some air or a spin-o-rama, or whatever they call them today. And not wearing a helmet. Not as smart as ol’ Ted thought, apparently. These kids, they all think they’re invincible. Come here from all parts, think their life is a fucking X Game. They’d do a drug and alcohol test in the postmortem. Who’d bet on what they’d find?

Thrill junkie.

He was like that once, too, Wade reflected. Invincible, or he surely thought so. That was back when he was the sheriff in Aspen. Not Carbondale, the little commuting town thirty miles down the road where everyone lived who couldn’t afford to live in Aspen. Shit, he could’ve pretty much run for mayor back then. Or governor. Anything he wanted. He knew all the big celebs—Don Johnson, Melanie Griffith, Goldie Hawn, and all the big CEOs flying in on their Learjets and Citations. Now look at him. Divorced. Twice. Widowed once, though they had been living apart. A couple of stints in detox. Running a police force one-tenth the size of what he used to, and lucky to have the damn job at that. Looking a whole lot older than his fifty-seven years. Basically broke. Now he was what, the mayor of the sober community here in town? Younger, more ambitious men all waiting in line for him to retire.

Then there was Kyle. His boy from Wade’s first marriage. Came back from Afghanistan missing a leg and an arm, and his brain rattling around in his head like loose change. What did they expect him to do in life? And who was going to take care of him? His mom was down in Florida somewhere. Working on a cruise ship, last he heard. Kyle was still rehabbing in a VA hospital in Denver, where he’d been for two years. Learning to eat peas with that new bionic hand they’ve given him. Basically the same age as this kid, Trey.

Kyle had maybe five, six more months and then he was out. Who was going to watch out for him? What with the government cutting back benefits every day, and all the mess with the VA hospitals. Wade went down once a week to see him. Someone was going to have to help him in life. Pay for the kind of van to get him around, or retrofit his house to make it easy to live there. And all those bloody therapists …

“Wade.”

Dave Warrick came up from behind and put a hand on Wade’s shoulder. “Just letting you know, I closed down the river to traffic for the next few days. Until we get this fully figured out. I called into Denver.” The Roaring Fork was in a state park. “Parks Service’ll be sending someone around just to make sure.”

Dave ran the Pitkin County sheriff’s force in Aspen now. Wade’s old position. They had jurisdiction here. He was nice enough. Wasn’t his fault his old boss had been mixing bourbon and OxyContin he’d stolen from his own evidence locker. That had taken every friend Wade had left to get behind him. Not to mention every dollar too.

Wade agreed. “Seems like the right move, Dave.”

“I think you know the family, don’t you?”

“His wife’s.” Wade nodded. “He was from up north somewhere, I think. Maybe from around Greeley.”

“I took a statement from Dani. She said the kid was quite the rider.”

Wade shrugged. “Who knows what he was trying to do. Flips, three-sixties. These kids all watch Shaun White and think they’re him, minus the red hair. Doesn’t matter what they’re riding.”

“I hear you. So you want me to go with you? To see his wife. These things are never easy. Never hurts to have someone along.”

“Thanks.” Dave never used his new position to make Wade feel smaller than he was. “But after twelve years in AA, telling people how their life is about to come tumbling down on them, I think that’s one job I’m equipped to do these days.”

“Well, let me know if I can help.” They stood on the rock, looking. “Just seems like a big fat waste of a life to me.” The Aspen police chief shook his head. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Warrick shrugged. “How it was Dani that found him …?”

“Chief, can you come over here …” One of the troopers interrupted them. Dave and Wade both turned, but it was Warrick they were calling. They were getting set to load the body into the van.

“As I said, let me know if I can help, okay …” Dave patted Wade on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch when we have something back from medical.”

“Thanks.”

Funny … What was funny was that for twenty years, Wade felt like his life was running down his own set of rapids. Lying to everybody. Hiding what he’d done. Losing his wife. Then his town. Knowing one will capsize you in the end, just like Trey here.

Charles Alan Watkins III. Sounds like some judge somewhere. Wade watched them load the body. You can only make it through so long, right? Riding through life that way. Without a helmet. That’s the truth.

Wade scratched his head and headed back to his car.

He knew sure as anything, one time he wouldn’t make it out of those rapids, either.

CHAPTER FOUR

There was a kind of memorial gathering that night at the Black Nugget, the bar in Carbondale where a lot of the river riders and top skiers hung out. A few of them had already gone over to the house and paid their respects to Allie. No one could believe what happened: the bottom of the Cradle getting the best of someone like Trey. Everyone agreed that it had to have happened farther upstream, like at the Falls or Slingshot, and the current carried him down. That was the only way anyone could see it.

Allie told a few people that her husband had gone out the previous night. A friend of his from the shop was getting married and a bunch of the guys took him to Justice Snow’s, a bar in Aspen, for shooters and kamikazes. Apparently he made it back home around midnight. Allie said maybe he was a little tipsy when he came to bed, but in the morning he was up at half past six pumped to catch a run or two before work. All that new water out there, two thousand cubic feet per second. “Be back before nine, hon,” he said and gave her a kiss.

Same ol’ Trey.

At the bar, a bunch of them were still sitting around after nine P.M., going through their favorite Trey stories. His good friend Rudy was there, whom he’d ski off-terrain with for years. And John Booth, a paragliding instructor and sometime river guide, and his girlfriend, Simone. Alexi, a ski rep, and couple of others sat around, everyone trading stories and pitching in for beers. Dani was on her third Fat Tire. Rudy was telling one how he and Trey were once skiing out of bounds behind Highlands, trying to map out some new terrain for a Warren Miller film.

“The snow was pretty loose back there. The mountain had issued an avalanche alert, but Trey said the powder seemed pretty firm. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘Roots, you and I can outski whatever comes down that mountain. Look at it,’ he said, talking about all the fresh powder. ‘It’s once-a-season quality, Roots. One hundred percent pure.’”

“That was Trey,” said Alexi, lifting his drink.

“That was Trey, pre-Allie,” John Booth clarified.

“Totally pre-Allie,” Dani said. “Post-Allie, Trey wouldn’t even cut to the front of a lift line.”

“You got that right,” John’s girlfriend, Simone, said.

“So we’re zooming down this fall line,” Rudy went on, “and Trey’s ripping down the slope at full speed, eight feet of air at a time. I’m just doing my best to keep up, maybe twenty yards behind. And suddenly the ground shakes and I hear this rumble … I look behind and it’s this wall of white coming at me from the summit. I didn’t even have a second to react. Only to think to myself, Okay, Roots, this is the day that you die! It just slammed into me and took me away. I figured I’m gonna hit some tree at a hundred miles per hour or be buried under ten feet of snow, and Trey and I are goners. Finally it stops. I’m completely covered up. Not a sound. No one around. I don’t even know which way is up. I’m yelling, trying to make an air pocket around me and I got my GPS, but who knows if Trey’s got his. Or if he’s in the same boat. I’m pretty scared, but I’m also so f-ing mad at him for dragging me down there. I still had one of my poles and I’m jamming it in the direction I think up is, screaming holy hell, trying to show anyone around I was there.

“Suddenly, I hear someone calling my name. ‘Roots. Roots? Are you there?’ Guess who? I’m going, ‘I’m here! I’m right fucking here, you sonovabitch. You’re alive!’ I’m jerking my pole around like this.” Rudy thrust his two arms in all directions.

“So he’s standing right above me. Trey, bless his soul. I’m going, ‘Get me out of here! Get me out!’” The sonovabitch has got to hear me. Then I hear, ‘Listen, dude, I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I gotta meet someone at Starbucks. I’m gonna head back up to the lodge for a bit. Hey, you want a latte, man? I’ll bring one back for you. You like yours with or without froth …?’ I’m screaming, ‘Get me out!’ I start jerking the pole around. I wanted to kill him. Suddenly I break through. Turns out I was only about two feet under. He said he could see my boots the whole time. Who the hell knew …”

“Just be glad that it was Trey you were with and not me,” John Booth said, grinning; “otherwise you’d still be down there.”

“Funny.” Rudy sneered at his friend, taking a swig of beer.

“I actually saw him at Starbucks, just after that,” Alexi, the ski rep, said in his French accent, but with a completely straight face. “He said he left you back there and asked should he go back and dig you out? I said, ‘Aw, what the hell.’ He asked if he should bring you a latte and I told him, ‘Look, don’t go all crazy now …’”

“That was Trey,” Artie, his ski tuner in the shop, said.

They all clinked mugs again.

“It just makes no sense.” John Booth shook his head. “Where this happened. The Falls, maybe. Or even Catapult. Trey could do the Cradle with Petey on his lap.”

“Or why he was out there without a helmet?” Dani said.

“Trey didn’t wear a helmet,” John Booth said. “Off-terrain maybe, or if he was doing tricks.”

“You’re wrong,” Dani said. “I saw him lots of mornings out there. Since Petey was born he damn well did wear one.”

“Anyone find one?” John Booth looked at her. “The rescue team was all over the place out there.”

Dani shrugged. She had waited around to see after she gave her deposition to the police. “No.”

“So there you go. Probably trying a one-eighty or a rollover, or something, and all that water got to him. Maybe his reactions were a little dulled from the night before, who knows? Anyway, here’s to my man.” John raised his mug. “To Charles Alan Watkins the Third.”

“To Trey!” Everyone at the table joined in.

Through the crowd, Dani saw Geoff Davies come in.

Geoff was the owner of Whitewater Adventure, where Dani worked. He was thirty-four, from Australia, had a master’s degree in psychology, and had moved out here from L.A. after a divorce and bought the business. He built it up, with a clothing line and videos and state-of-the-art equipment. He and Dani had been seeing a bit each other for the last few months. Not a big thing, and probably not the smartest. either. Taking up with the boss. But it was only now and then, and Geoff was an upbeat, good-hearted guy, and smart. And anyway it wasn’t like this was some Fortune 500 company and there was a whole corporate hierarchy where it could get around. Whitewater Adventures had eight full-time employees.

“I heard this was where you could lift one up to Trey Watkins?” Geoff came over to the table.

“That it is,” John Booth said. “One more round,” he said, motioning to Skip behind the bar. A few of them had already had four or five, and that was becoming clear. “Sit right down.”

“Thanks.” Geoff grabbed the empty chair next to Dani. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She shrugged back. Though everybody probably already knew, they always kept things cool and gave each other just a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“So how’re you doing?” He gave her an affectionate stroke to her hair, which Dani had tied back in a thick ponytail. He had wiry brown hair and soft, gray eyes.

“Hanging in there. Everyone get back okay after Rich picked them up?”

“Not exactly how we normally like to end our deluxe Roaring Fork River Thrill Experience … But yes. I gave them all a full refund, of course. Not that anyone really wanted it. Up until then they all had a terrific time and they all said you were great. And how you handled it. They even left some tips for you. It just seemed the right thing to do. Especially with the kids in there.”

“I think it was the right thing.” Dani squeezed his thigh under the table. “That was nice.” The new round of beers arrived and they all toasted Trey one more time, Geoff as well. Dani downed a long swig, maybe a quarter of the mug.

“I heard his father’s coming down tomorrow,” Geoff said. “He’s a farmer from up north somewhere.”

Rudy nodded. “Trey always said he came from a small farm. He mentioned once that lately it had fallen on hard times.”

“There’s been a pretty long drought up that way,” John Booth added.

“Two or three years.”

“Sometimes your luck just runs out.” Rudy shook his head, enough beer that he was growing melancholy. “He just hit a rock the wrong way and … Just a freakin’ accident. Could happen to any of us the same way.”

“It wasn’t no accident.” They all heard a voice ring out from behind them.

Everyone looked around. A guy named Ron was at the bar—Rooster, everyone called him, because he had long, straggly hair, a pockmarked face, and a pointy chin. He was a balloon operator for one of the sightseeing companies in Aspen that took tourists up for a view of the valley. Rooster was in his fifties, a heavy drinker, who was always running his mouth off somewhere. No one cared for him much.

“What are you talking about?” Rudy shifted around.

“Just that it wasn’t no accident,” Rooster said again. His eyes were bright and kind of intense, either from the beer or with mischief, and he sat there, looking at them, seeming kind of pleased. “All I’m saying.”

“What do you mean, it ‘wasn’t no accident’?” John Booth said, mocking Rooster’s grammar. “What the hell was it then?”

“Not for me to say.” Rooster shrugged. “Just that he wasn’t alone.”

“Wasn’t alone …” John shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And you know this, how, Rooster …?”

“’Cause I was up there. This morning. Just after light. And I seen it. I seen what happened.”

There was silence. “You got something on your mind, Rooster, better let it rip,” said Rudy, shifting around in his chair.

For a moment, Rooster puffed out his chest like he was about to. The guy was always a weird duck. He always said he’d been a roadie for the rock group Boston; clearly they’d invited him to the party room one too many times. He didn’t have a whole lot of friends and mostly hung out alone. Dani had seen him drunk once or twice and it wasn’t a pretty sight. He’d been let go from his job by the owner of the tour company, but one of the operators had quit and it was summer, so apparently he was back on a temporary basis. Mostly, she just felt sorry for him.

“We’re waiting, dude …” Rudy tapped his finger. Rudy was large and had had a couple, and was known to have a short fuse. It had been a long day, and they had all lost a friend. It wouldn’t take much for him to let it go. “Now would be the time …”

“All I’m saying is, you didn’t see what I saw.” Ron backed down. He glanced around, looking for a way to get himself out of trouble. “He just wasn’t alone out there, that’s all.” He sat there, bouncing a leg against the barstool, as if thinking, maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing.

“You’re saying someone did this? So who was with him?” John Booth pressed.

Rooster saw that he was sliding headfirst into a mess. He cleared his throat, and stammered a second, evading the question.

“Ron …?” Dani pitched in, seeing he had gotten all nervous. “It’s okay. What did you see …?”

“Nothing,” Rooster finally said. His eyes hung, seeming both shot down and defeated, and they seemed to settle on Dani’s with a kind of contrite, regretful smile. “Nothing more to say.” He raised his glass to Rudy and John. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“C’mon, Rudy, that’s the end of it …” John Booth pulled his friend back around by the arm. “Just Rooster being Rooster. Sit back down and have a wing. We’ve all had a bunch to drink.”

“I ain’t drunk,” Rooster chimed in again. “Been clean for fifteen days now. It’s ginger ale. See …?” He held up his drink. “Anyway—to your friend.” He tilted his glass.

“To Trey …” Rudy nodded grudgingly, turning back around. Under his breath, he muttered, “Asshole.”

“I think you’re right,” Dani said to Geoff, sensing the shift in the mood. “Time for me to move along.” She went into her jeans pocket and came out with a couple of twenties.

“No way,” John Booth and Alexi seemed to say as one. They pushed her money back. “Your money’s not good here. Not after what you had to do today.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“You want to stay with me?” Geoff asked. “It’s a long way back.”

“I’m fine,” she said. She put her hand lightly on his thigh and smiled. “Thanks. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Besides, Blu will get me back.” Blu was her three-year-old yellow Lab, who went with Dani everywhere. She stood up and said, “It’s a work night, everyone, or at least it is for somebody out there … Time for me to get back home.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Blu got up from snoozing in the back as Dani climbed into her Subaru wagon. “C’mon, Blu, baby …” He stepped up to front, wagging his tail happily. “You’re shotgun, dude. Time to get me back home.”

Carbondale was thirty miles northwest up Route 82, and there were always a bunch of cops out at night. And Geoff was right, she’d probably had had one more than she should. She turned on a CD, a local cover band named Wet Spring. She made the turn onto Main and then went on through the rotary, heading onto 82. She settled in for the forty-minute ride.

Sure, accidents always happened, she knew. And that was likely what it was. John Booth was probably right, he could have been trying out some old spins or flips. He could have been going down backward. There was so much beautiful water, he could have easily hit his head a million ways, with no helmet. You pitch into a rock, or get sucked under by an eddy or thrown by a hole. Anything could happen on the river. They all knew the risks. Trey more than any of them.

Dani sighed. “What did it really matter anyway, right, Blu?” How Trey died. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. It’s a lesson for them all. He was dead.

That’s all.

Around the turnoff for Snowmass, she winced at the thought of Allie and Petey having to suddenly go it alone. To have their world ripped from them. Just like that. Like soldiers in the war, talking one minute, who drive over an IED. One day you’ve got a beautiful family and the sky is blue and the whitewater is rushing. The next day you’re gone.

Her mind flashed back to Rooster: You didn’t see what I saw, that’s all.

That Ron was a hard one to like. An even harder one to put stock in and believe. But what he had said seemed to stay with Dani. It wasn’t no accident?

Well, if it wasn’t an accident, what the hell was it then? Was there another rider out there? Did someone else ram into him, and cause him to spill? Or did someone come out from the shore? There was that rock bed down there by the Cradle.

She tried to imagine Rooster in the air gliding by. Then she let out a sigh of disappointment, suddenly realizing he was totally full of shit. There was no way to see the Slaughterhouse Falls run from anywhere near where the balloons went up in Aspen. Even on a perfect day like yesterday. It was at least a couple of miles away. Whoever had said it was right: the guy was basically a quarter short of a dollar between the ears. And always starting trouble.

Rooster being Rooster again.

That was all.

Wet Spring was singing their hit, “Misunderstood,” which she’d seen them do a couple of times, and Dani couldn’t stop herself from singing along. Blu had his front paws on the divider and his hind legs in the backseat.

From there it was another fifteen minutes to Carbondale. She pulled off Route 82 and into town, which mostly dark now—nothing much happening here after ten P.M.—and turned onto Colorado Street and into her apartment complex: eight attached units facing Mount Sopris. She shared it with Patti, who worked at the yoga clinic, but Patti was away in L.A. doing some certification seminar. Her neighbor’s calico cat, Cici, was slinking out on the lawn. She never strayed very far and sometimes walked along the fence that separated their decks when Dani was drinking her morning coffee or doing her sun salutations. And who, defying conventional wisdom, Blu seemed to get along with rather well.

“Hey, baby.” Dani bent down and picked her up. Cici was purring. “How was your day? Mine was pretty terrible.”

The door opened and Dawn stuck her head out. “Oh, Dani, sorry, she must’ve snuck out. We’ve been calling her.”

“No worries,” Dani said, handing the cat over. “I never mind a visit from my friend.”

“We’ve got a zin open.” Dawn was a massage therapist who worked at the St. Regis, and her boyfriend, Jerry, was a chef at the hotel, too. “You and Blu want to come over? Watch Jon Stewart?”

“Thanks,” Dani said, “but I’ve had enough. Rough day.”

“I know. We heard. So horrible. Did you know him?”

Dani shrugged, opening the door for Blu to go inside. “A little. More a while back than now.”

“You’re sure you don’t want that glass of wine? It’s a good one.”

“Thanks, Dawn. I think I’ll just crash. We’ll do it another time.”

“I understand.” Dawn smiled. “Let me know if we can do anything for you, okay?”

“Thanks, doll. I will,” Dani said back.

Inside, she peeled off the shell she’d had on since this morning and stepped out of her jeans. She threw herself down on the couch and took out the scrunchie from her ponytail and shook out her hair. She massaged her neck a little and blew out a weary blast of air.

Yes. Rough day.

She got up to make herself a cup of tea. Her cell phone vibrated on the counter. Part of her felt like she didn’t even want to look who it was. She already knew who it was anyway. Geoff, making sure she’d made it home. He was a gentleman like that. Part of her just wanted to take a long shower and go to bed and wake up and better things would happen tomorrow. She listened to the buzzing a third time.

She looked at the screen and saw a name she couldn’t place at first. Ronald Kessler.

Who the hell was that? Probably some marketing call. She was about to just let it go to voice mail when curiosity got the better of her and she just answered. “Hello?”

“Dani?”

By the time she put it together who it was he’d already told her. “It’s Ron.”

“Ron?”

“Rooster.”

“Jesus, Rooster … Ron, how’d you get my number?”

“I had it once. Remember, you recommended some customers to us a year or two back.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” It struck her as a little creepy that Rooster had kept her in his phone all this time. “Listen, Ron, it’s a little late and I’m just getting ready—” There was a lot of noise in the background.

“I know it’s late, Dani. I don’t mean to bother you,” he said. “There was just something I had to say. About what happened back there at the bar.”

“Look, we all had a little too much to drink …” In a weird way Dani always had a soft spot for Rooster. In the same way you might feel sorry for a stray cat. The guy was an outcast. But he didn’t mean anybody harm. John Booth was probably right, he’d just taken one too many hits of something back in the day. “But Rudy was right, Ron. Trey had a wife and kid, and you can’t just go around riling people up making accusations that you can’t support.”

“I wasn’t making anything up. And I wasn’t lying. About what I said I saw out there this morning.”

He hesitated just like he had at the bar. She put on the kettle for her tea.

“Ron, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Or else take it to Chief Dunn.” She knew Rooster knew Wade. Wade was once his sponsor in AA, and that didn’t go so well. Rooster had slipped several times and had a reputation of not being honest in the program. “And just so we’re real here, you can’t even see that part of the river from where the balloons go up. You know that better than anyone.”

“I can’t take it to Chief Dunn. There are some things between us. I know he thinks I’m a few of bricks short of a wall. Everyone does. And maybe I am. Plus, I wasn’t supposed to be where I was out over the river earlier. I was the only one up today and this nice couple, they handed me a hundred-dollar bill to stay up there a while longer and let it drift. That’s why I’m calling you.”

Dani started to grow impatient. “Me?”

“You can take it to Chief Dunn, Dani. He’d want to know this.”

“Ron, please …” Dani put in the tea bag and poured water into the mug. “It’s been a rough day for everyone. And I’m getting ready for bed. So what is it you saw?”

“All I can say is, your friend wasn’t alone out there on that river.”

“I know, that’s what you’ve been saying. Look—”

“He was wearing a red windbreaker, right?”

That took her by surprise. He was.

“And his kayak was blue …?”

Dani didn’t answer, but her hesitation seemed to give Rooster the sense that he’d struck something with that.

“So I’m not so crazy after all, am I? I didn’t know it at the time, but it had to be him, right?”

“So who was out there with him, Ron?” Dani’s attention was suddenly aroused. “Ron, it’s crazy in there. You still at the Nugget?”

“How about you meet me at the balloon field in the morning.” Near the Aspen Industrial Park where the balloons went up from. “I got a ride at seven and we’ll be all tethered back by eight thirty.”

Dani didn’t have a tour in the morning. And, yes, she could take it to Wade. Whatever Ron claimed he saw. He did have the color of Trey’s kayak right, and what he was wearing.

“Will you be there?”

“All right, I’ll be there,” Dani said. She suddenly felt the hairs on her arms stand on edge. She didn’t even like the idea of being alone with him.

“I know he was a friend of yours, Dani. But you were always a fair person to me. Not like some.”

“Yes. I know that, Ron.”

“So I’ll see you at eight thirty, then. After my ride.”

“Okay.”

“And Dani …”

“Yes.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t drunk tonight and I surely wasn’t this morning, either. You believe me, right?”

“Yes, I believe you.” Before she’d left the bar, she checked with Skip, the bartender. To be sure. Rooster had been drinking ginger ale.