Mountain Rampage by Scott Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

it got blood on it, either.”
    The officer tapped the photograph against the side of his leg. “But you say it’s yours.”
    â€œI’m saying it’s mine because it is mine, or one that’s identical to it, anyway.”
    â€œWhere’d you last see it?”
    Clarence pointed at the group’s packs, lined at the edge of the site. “I keep it in my pack.”
    â€œDo you mind?”
    Clarence led Hemphill and Chuck across the site to the daypacks. Kirina and the students looked on in silence.
    Clarence picked out his backpack, a black North Face with a large compartment for food, water, and clothing, and a small, outer pocket for sundries. He checked the outside pocket and came up with nothing. He rummaged inside the main compartment, extracting his rain jacket, a sack lunch, and a liter bottle of water, but no knife.
    He turned to Hemphill. “It’s gone.”
    â€œYou live in Raven House, right?”
    Clarence nodded.
    â€œAny reason it might be back in town, in your room?”
    â€œI keep it in my pack. I use it to make the crew’s excavation sticks.”
    In response to Hemphill’s furrowed brow, Clarence explained,“They’re for digging out and cleaning found objects. Everyone thinks trowels and dental picks are best, but for close-in work, you want wood because it doesn’t scratch. I make different sizes, with blunt and sharp points.”
    â€œYou know your way around a knife,” Hemphill observed.
    Clarence’s eyes filled with fury. Before he could cut loose on the officer, Chuck jumped in. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
    â€œJust an observation,” the officer said, his voice flat.
    Chuck made no attempt to hide his anger. “Sounds like you’re making use of the same keen observation skills you used last night. Take a million pictures, keep my students up all night, and for what? A little bit of blood soaking into the ground.” He exhaled, attempting to calm himself. “Look, you and I both know what happened. Somebody took a chicken from the cafeteria, cut it up, dropped it, made a mess, whatever. Probably one of the cooks. He doesn’t want to admit to it because he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble.” Chuck pointed at Clarence’s pack. “A guy who would steal from the cafeteria would have no problem stealing somebody’s knife, too.”
    â€œI considered that,” Hemphill said. “Then I got back to HQ, put a drop of the blood we collected on a slide, and stuck it under our microscope.”
    â€œ HQ ,” Chuck mimicked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “CSI: Estes Park.”
    Hemphill’s face flushed, but his voice remained steady. “I was a paramedic before I joined the department. It’s pretty simple, really. Red blood cells are distinctive from animal to animal. Pig to cow, cow to chicken.” He paused. “Chicken to human.”
    Chuck straightened. “I take it your microscope told you something.”
    â€œWe won’t know for sure until we get the official test results back in a few days. But the red blood cells on the slide had thedistinct donut shape that is unique to one creature and one creature only—Homo sapiens.”
    â€œYou’re saying last night’s blood was…is…human.”
    â€œThat’s the early indication.”
    At Chuck’s side, Clarence drew a breath.
    Chuck’s heart thumped hard in his chest. No wonder Hemphill was still on the clock after working the scene through the night—and why he’d deemed it worthwhile to hike all the way to the mine this morning. “But you don’t have a body, right?” Chuck asked. “And no one has turned up injured at the hospital?”
    Hemphill’s silence provided the answer.
    Clarence faced the police officer. “That’s my knife in your picture. You and I both know it.” His voice