Vultures circled the sky, diving toward the ground in search of prey. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten to the girl’s body yet.
A coyote howled somewhere in the midst of the thick forest, the moon barely visible through the mist as he shined his flashlight along the path leading to Midnight Ridge. It was the tallest peak in the area and fraught with snakes and wildlife, but it offered a majestic view of the rocky stream and springs below.
People flocked here to climb the ridge and photograph the mountains and valley, especially in the spring when wildflowers dotted the land. A cold freeze had now turned everything brown and brittle.
Although beauty surrounded it, locals had dubbed it Suicide Ridge because a number of people had taken their lives by jumping to their deaths in this very spot. Locals in the area touted the reason for that was that the higher you were on the ridges, the closer you were to heaven. Some held prayer rituals here and brought offerings to God while they begged for forgiveness of their sins. Others claimed they could talk to their deceased loved ones at the top of the ridge and a few had been known to sacrifice animals, especially birds, to prove their love for the lord.
With the Day of the Dead approaching, vigils and ceremonies to honor lost loved ones were already planned.
Judging from the call the ranger station received a little after midnight on a walkie-talkie, the caller had witnessed a young woman throw herself off the ridge.
The sound of the stream gurgling indicated he was close. He broke through the clearing and spotted a lean-to built of sticks and an old tarp. A small fire lit the darkness where an old man with a scruffy beard in a tattered jacket sat hunched over it.
Recluses, mentally ill, drug addicts, some homeless people and occasionally criminals lived in the woods. Cord understood the various reasons. As a teen, he’d been homeless and taken shelter in the woods himself.
He approached the man slowly. “Ranger Cord McClain,” he said. “Are you the one who called about a possible suicide?”
The old man stood, wiped his hands on his faded tattered jeans and offered his hand.
“Roman,” he mumbled with a wry laugh as Cord shook his hand. “Guess my ma thought I’d be somebody.” His handtrembled as he swiped it over his beard. “She got that wrong, huh.”
Cord understood how the man felt. He’d let people down before, too. Course, they’d let him down as well. Maybe something similar had happened to Roman.
“You told the park ranger you saw a girl jump?” Cord asked.
“Sure did,” he said in a gravelly voice. “She’s over yonder.” Roman started to walk over, but Cord noticed his limp and stopped him. “Wait here, sir. You didn’t touch her or anything, did you?”
“No, sir,” Roman said.
Cord nodded. “Good.”
Roman’s eyes looked glassy and his hands trembled, indicating he was either ill or needed food and a fix. Maybe all three. Cord pulled a protein bar from his pack and offered it to him. “Let me check it out, then we’ll talk some more.”
Cord strode across the rocky terrain until he reached the edge of the stream, then stared at the mangled body of a young girl as she lay sprawled on the rocky ground. Muddy branch water trickled over the edges of the stones and weeds bent in the wind, heavy and swaying as they reached through the soil below, struggling for life.
The past month had been dreary and rainy, and the foliage was brown as if it needed sun. He wondered if it ever shined here.
Panning his flashlight around, he scanned the area surrounding her shattered body, hating the fact that insects had already found her as if they smelled death or dinner. A black tennis shoe had fallen into the bushes, he guessed on her descent. A beaded bracelet lay on the dirt, broken, beads scattered in the crevices between the rocks. Four of the beads bore letters: an R, S and two Is.
He guessed the girl was around sixteen or seventeen years old, far too young to die.
Blood had pooled around her face and skull, spattering the surrounding rocks and streaming into the water. Her long tangled black hair looked sticky with blood, arms and legs bruised and mangled, feet at odd angles indicating they were broken, her face obviously crushed from smashing into the jagged rocks face down.
He dreaded seeing her face. The impact from the fall would have disfigured her.
Turning her over would be Ellie and the ME’s job.
“Reminds me of my Teresa,” Roman murmured behind him.
Cord glanced over his shoulder. “Your daughter?”
The old man nodded and wiped at his eyes. “Ain’t seen her in years. Ran off with some hoodlum.”
Sympathy for the man swelled inside Cord. “You said you saw her jump?”
Roman nodded. “Yeah, ’cept… I thought I heard a scuffle, that somebody was up there with her on the ridge.”
Cord narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t seen any other cars in the parking lot when he’d arrived. If the girl had driven here, where was her vehicle? Unless someone else had brought her to the ridge.
