Pitch Black by Susan Crandall Read Free Book Online

discernible trail of prints led up the narrow path toward the camp. Of course, with the rain arriving this morning, only the tracks made today would have left deep depressions in the mud.
    He saw nothing that would contradict the theory that this was an accident. “Carter, bag the jackets and the T-shirt. Then you can go back down with Dr. Zinn.” He turned to the four rescuers shifting restlessly nearby. “All right, let’s get him off this mountain.”
    While the SAR team secured McPherson’s body to the stretcher, Gabe continued to look around. He started at the body and worked his way out in a spiral pattern. The woods thickened quickly as he moved away from the creek. About twenty feet from the body, he knelt down, inspecting the broken branches of a mountain laurel. The injury was fresh, the green wood still moist, and the foliage showed no signs of wilt. There could be any number of reasons for broken branches—an animal; J.D. had said Jordan was running around in a panic—it might have no significance at all.
    He moved a little deeper into the woods, slipping on the wet, uneven ground more than once. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his attention. Then, just as he was about to loop around and return to the falls, he saw something small and light-colored on the ground near a two-foot-diameter boulder. He moved closer.
    Cigarette filters, discolored from use and swollen from the rain. Impossible to tell how old they were. Brand marking said they were Marlboros—probably the most popular cigarette in town. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ziplock baggie. He turned it inside out, placed his hand inside, and picked up the butts without contaminating them with his touch.
    He remained kneeling, the slope of the land making him work at keeping his balance. He examined the ground around him carefully, then scanned the surrounding foliage and trees. Once he was satisfied that he wasn’t missing anything, he straightened, stretching the knots out of his back. After spending the next several minutes working an increasing circumference from the spot of the cigarette butts and not finding anything noteworthy, he worked back toward the body in a zigzag pattern.
    The light beneath the heavy canopy of trees was dimming rapidly. By the time Gabe reached the falls, the rescue team had already left with McPherson’s body. For a moment, he stood alone and admired the beauty of this place. It was easy to be seduced by such splendor, forget that beauty sometimes disguises danger. Had Steve forgotten that most valuable of lessons? Or had it simply been an odd twist of fate, one of Mother Nature’s little ironies?
    He made one last pass around the area, then started back down the mountain himself.
    ETHAN WAS BEGINNING TO THINK M was never coming back. How long could it take to call somebody to pick them up and find out where Jordan was?
    His stomach tightened with nerves. What if Jordan had snapped out of it and started talking?
    He was just throwing off the covers, determined to go find Jordan himself, when M reappeared. She had a paper bag in her hand and didn’t look happy.
    “What’s wrong?” Ethan’s mouth went dry.
    “Jordan doesn’t appear to have any real physical injuries, but . . . ,” she said slowly, as if hesitant to speak the words, “he’s still uncommunicative.”
    Ethan nearly pissed his pants with relief, but he tried to look unhappy, too.
    M gave him her “sorry to disappoint you” look. “Maybe we should come back later. I’ll bring you—”
    “No!” He jumped off the bed and faced her. “No! You said no bull!” He punched a finger in the air between them. “You said I could see him.”
    Her eyes widened and she leaned back, away from him, as if he’d startled her.
    He dropped his hands to his sides and added more quietly, “You promised.”
    “Take it easy,” she said. “I did promise. And you
can
see him. I just thought it might be better for you to