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“I didn’t get close enough for a prolonged observation. I noticed someone was there. I realized it was a man on his own, mining. He seemed to be minding his business, and so I noted the location and have been avoiding it.”
“How long has he been there?”
“I found his tent two weeks ago. The last time I was in the area was about a month previous, and I didn’t see it.”
“Anything else you can tell us?”
“No, Officer.” Her lips twitch again. “Please tell me I am right in that guess. This feels very much like an interrogation, however polite.”
“I have experience in law enforcement,” I say.
“I am pleased to see that you continue to protect your people, but whatever you think happened out there, I only found a man who appeared to have taken a tumble into a gorge. Nothing suspicious about it.”
“Let’s hope so. Can you point us in the right direction?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
We are in the spot where Bruno fell. It’s at the top of a gorge carved out through rock with a stream thirty feet below. Lilith had found Bruno by walking from the other direction, where the gorge opens up into flatter landscape.
While the other route would be easier, we needed to see where he fell from. She told us exactly what landmarks to look for and then she left.
We’re in the spot, and it’s nasty. Not a straight drop, but a jagged one, with plenty of jutting rocks to hit on the way down. Yet if you stepped off it accidentally, the slope is gradual enough that you’d probably land on your ass and slide down.
“Definitely pushed,” I say. “No one’s going to step over this even in the dark.”
It’s open land up here. Rock covered in moss and lichen, and while someone could slip on that, it’d have the same effect. You’d hurt yourself, but it’d be a slide down rather than a drop.
“He must have been here, on the edge, looking down. His companion snuck up and gave him a shove.”
Dalton’s pacing along that edge. Every few moments, he stops and peers down.
“He went over here.”
Dalton points, and I come closer. He motions for me to bend, and when I’m low enough, I can make out the crushed moss. I scan the area, now that I know what I’m looking for. There’s that spot near the edge, where the moss has been trampled and dislodged from the rock. There is another spot, about two feet over, where it’s been crushed underfoot. From the person who shoved him? Digging into the ground to brace for that push?
I point it out to Dalton and tell him what I think, and then add, “I’m not seeing anything useful, though. No prints unless I’m missing them.”
He surveys the area beyond, and we fan out to check the spots where dirt has accumulated enough to collect impressions.
“Got a boot print here,” I say. “It’s Bruno’s, though.”
“Another partial over here, but it’s smudged.”
I walk over and crouch. It’s definitely a print, and it looks thinner than Bruno’s, but there’s no visible tread. I still take photos. We keep looking, and then I set Storm on the trail. She finds where they walked in from the bush, but the ground there is hard, no prints to be seen. We follow until she loses it on more rock.
“Time to go down,” I say.
Dalton looks off to the east, where there’s easy access to the spot.
I shake my head. “I want to take Bruno’s route. Preferably without the pushing-and-falling part.”
“That shows a lack of proper job dedication, Butler. I’m disappointed.”
“Add it to my next job evaluation.”
“You want me to actually start doing job evaluations?”
I shake my head and walk to the spot with the trampled moss. “I’d like to climb down this way, in case there are any clues.”
