Free Fall at Angel Creek, page 4
After River copied the driving directions, she climbed into the beat-up shop truck and headed toward the mountains. She would be searching the foothills of the Cascade Mountain range, in the Mt. Hood National Forest. It wasn’t long before she left the paved roads and bounced along on washboard-like dirt roads. Traveling deeper into the forest, she steeled herself for what she might come across. She most dreaded discovering human bodies, or worse, parts.
She was thankful she hadn’t had to deal with human remains in too many of her previous accident investigations. Most airplane crashes happened near the ground, so there was generally a primary impact site where all the passengers and crew would be found. If it was a slow-speed crash, such as right after takeoff, some of the bodies could be intact. If it was a high-speed crash, not much that was recognizable as human was usually left.
The human factor. This was the most difficult part of the investigation. Not only did she have to experience the horror of seeing mangled bodies, but she had to figure out exactly how these people had died. It wasn’t difficult to analyze broken pieces of metal, but dealing with dead passengers, and especially their surviving family members, was gut-wrenching.
Driving along the road to her target, she visualized the tortured face of Detective Deborah Rawlings again. A wave of remembered grief slowly washed over her, not only for the misery all these survivors would be facing, but especially for this woman. River knew with certainty that her life would never again be what it was.
She crested a hill and saw a lush, green valley with a stream wandering through it. It was beautiful and peaceful—just the place you’d like to stop and rest. Maybe here she could find some answers to ease the suffering of Deborah Rawlings. She stopped the truck, took out her backpack with her supplies, and hiked down toward the water, hoping she would find something.
* * *
Dee drove as fast as she could on the narrow state road to Madras Municipal airport. It was a typical small airport with a few hangars and a single terminal building. She found the receptionist, who assumed Dee was with the accident investigation team, got the driving instructions, and continued tracking her target.
When the paved road turned to a dirt road, Dee followed the fresh tire tracks. Bouncing along the dirt road, she was struck at the beauty of this land. She’d never been in this part of Oregon before because she was usually working and rarely left Portland. The entire state was gorgeous and green, but this area was different.
On a few occasions, Dee had taken time off for a weekend excursion to the Oregon coast. She loved walking on the wide, sandy beaches and watching the ocean waves crash on the dramatic rock formations. She never went into the cold ocean water, but she liked driving along the coast highway, stopping at places like Cape Foul Weather and the Devil’s Punchbowl. She always took her weekend trips alone, wishing she had someone special with her. Now, thinking about those pleasant drives only brought back her despair.
Dee had made such great plans for her time with Naomi. She’d taken a week off and wanted to show her sister the best sights in her adopted state. Those dreams were all gone now, with so much left unsaid. Her heart clutched, her vision grew fuzzy, and her breathing accelerated. She was hyperventilating again at the thought of what had happened to Naomi. She had to stop the car and force herself to calm down before she passed out. Images of bloody crime scenes swirled before her, this time with Naomi as a dead victim. Dee focused all her energy and self-discipline on slowing her breathing. Gradually, the horrible images faded, and her vision returned. Once she was in control, she continued down the dirt road until she came upon a well-used pickup truck.
She approached slowly, scanning the area around the truck for any movement. With no one in sight, Dee looked inside the truck for anything important, then followed the boot prints into the woods. There’d been rain last night so the ground was soft, making the boot prints easy to see. Tracking someone was one of Dee’s best skills, acquired from her time as a US Army military police specialist.
Sneaking through the woods following her subject reminded Dee of her time in Iraq. Protecting her fellow soldiers deployed to the desert had become Dee’s mission in life. She’d seen some of her friends blown to bits by improvised explosive devices and made it her business to find the perpetrators. As she crept through the woods following the boot prints, she could hear the words of her old drill instructor in her mind: “Keep your head on a swivel and one hand on your weapon.”
Dee always had her weapon with her, tucked under her armpit, next to her left breast. She thought of her pistol as her backup, always ready when she needed it. The weight and bulk of it felt comfortable. On the rare occasions she didn’t have it with her, she felt like something was missing. A noise caught her attention and she stopped to listen. She could hear birds singing and wind blowing through the pine trees, then something else. It was the sound of water.
* * *
After River hiked about an hour, she cleared the trees and saw the banks of a small creek. Working several crash sites had taught her the advantage of searching around rivers and streams. Any floating debris, such as seat cushions or foam insulation, that landed on the water would be carried downstream. Also, if she was lucky, the riverbanks had grass instead of trees, making it easier to find objects.
She took a minute to look around at her surroundings. The babbling brook, the sound of birds singing, and the lush green colors combined to give this place a sense of serenity. She removed her heavy backpack to take it all in.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees and danced on the surface of the water. She walked down to the edge of the creek, hoping the water would be clear enough to see into its depths. The water was slow moving and crystal clear, with a good view of the creek bed and even a few good-sized fish. Looking upstream, she spotted a small waterfall with an unusual rock formation. The shape reminded her of something familiar, and a little rainbow appeared in the mist of the waterfall. For a moment, she took a break from hunting for evidence to simply enjoy the beauty. Just then, she heard a noise behind her in the woods. She froze, listening, then heard a twig snap.
Someone, or something, is following me.
She didn’t have anything to defend herself with except a can of bear repellant and her heavy backpack. Assuming she was being watched, she pretended to walk upstream, then darted into the woods again. She thought about running back to the shop truck to escape, but finding out who was following her seemed more important.
She silently looped around behind the area where she’d heard the sound and saw movement. A dark figure slipped from tree to tree, hiding in the shadows. She was definitely under surveillance. She should have continued to quietly work her way back to the truck, leave the area, then come back with a couple of security guards, but now she was pissed. Who was following her? What did they want? Her heart was pounding and she approached the dark figure from behind, bear repellant in hand.
The subject spun around and hit her right hand, knocking the bear spray away. The barrel of a big gun was pointed right at her face. River put her hands up in surrender.
“Jesus! I almost shot you.”
River was face-to-face with Detective Deborah Rawlings. She lowered her hands. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The woman put her gun away. “First of all, don’t ever sneak up behind a cop. You’re lucky I didn’t blow your head off. Secondly, I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“I have to do something, or I’ll go crazy. Please let me help. I’ll do anything.”
River locked eyes with her for a moment. “Look, Deborah. I’m not trying to be difficult, but you can’t be here.”
“Don’t ever call me that. My name is Dee. Why can’t I assist? I’m a trained police detective.”
Just then, River noticed something green next to Dee’s white tennis shoe. “Freeze.”
She reached down toward Dee’s right knee. “Put one hand on the tree and slowly raise your foot.”
It was a lime-green piece of sharp metal. River pulled her camera out of her pack and took pictures of the metal in the ground and the surrounding area. She took a numbered white flag out of her backpack, stuck the metal shaft into the ground, then recorded the flag number, location, and description in her logbook. After putting on a rubber glove, she took a plastic evidence bag out and carefully placed the metal in the bag.
“Can I put my foot down now?”
River examined the area around Dee’s feet. “Yes, but step over here.”
“See? I helped you find something already.”
“Dee, this is not a police investigation. It’s different, and you don’t know what you’re doing. This entire area is an accident scene, and you’re walking right through the evidence field. What would you do if a victim’s family member came walking through your crime scene?”
Dee didn’t answer.
River took a step closer to her. “You’d tell her she had to leave so you could do your job, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
River felt a twinge of sympathy, but she had to be firm.
“Then you need to leave me alone so I can do my job. I gave you my word I would contact you if I find anything, and I will. Go now, and don’t come back. I will report you if I see you again.”
Dee glared at her with a look that said, “This is not over,” then turned and walked away.
Chapter Six
Dee got into her car and drove back to Portland. River was right to demand she leave the accident site, just as she would’ve done, but she still didn’t like it. She was hoping she’d have something to report when she called Naomi’s husband, a duty she was still avoiding. It was easier to work on the case than to face this crisis with her sister’s family. She didn’t even know what they looked like. Naomi had texted only that she had a husband, Bill, and two daughters, Brin and Taylor. She’d also promised to bring pictures and that they would talk about everything that had happened in the sixteen years they’d been apart.
By the time Dee reached her small apartment in downtown Portland, she was exhausted, hungry, and furious. She ordered Chinese-food delivery, then started cleaning her home. The new vase with a dozen yellow roses in the middle of her kitchen table mocked her with their cheeriness. She wanted to hurl the whole thing out her tenth-story window and curse God. But she couldn’t endanger an innocent citizen walking by on the sidewalk, so she grabbed the stems, letting the thorns pierce her palm, and dumped the flowers into the trash.
She ate her food without tasting it and decided she desperately needed a shower. The hot water gave much-needed relief to the spasms in her shoulders, and then it mixed with her own tears as the grief flowed from her in endless waves of pain. She had lost the person she loved most in the world and had been completely powerless to prevent her sister’s death. She slid down the tiled wall to sit on the floor of the shower and let the hot water pelt her.
After the water turned ice cold, she dried off, put on clean clothes, then sat in her darkened living room, immobile. How could she go to sleep tonight, or any night, ever again? She feared her own dreams. And how could she possibly face tomorrow feeling so numb and empty inside? She’d go mad if she sat here, did nothing, and thought about everything she’d lost. She picked up the phone and called her partner, Marcus Lasalle.
“Hey, Dee. I heard the news that your sister was on that plane. Kim and I are so sorry for you. We’re here for you if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Marcus.” She had a hard time speaking. “I do need help with one thing.”
“Name it.”
“I need a phone number for Naomi’s husband, Bill Williams. They,” she paused, “he lives near Chicago.”
“Got it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I get his number. Anything else I can help with? You’re always welcome to stay here if you don’t want to be alone.”
His kindness made her choke up. He was a great partner. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay. Talk to you tomorrow.” She hung up before she burst into tears again. She trusted him with her life, but she still didn’t want to cry in front of him.
She would call her brother-in-law for the first time tomorrow to discuss his dead wife, her dead sister. The waves of loss descended on her again. Too weak to fight them anymore, she did the only thing she could think of and went to the cabinet, grabbed a quart-sized sports cup, filled it with ice, then poured it half full of Seagram’s 7. After she topped it off with a can of Coke, she chugged the entire drink. She needed oblivion tonight. Maybe tomorrow she would wake up from this hideous nightmare.
* * *
River drove the shop truck back to Madras airport to meet Mike for the flight back to Redmond. She kept thinking about Dee. How in the world did this woman find her in the woods? How was she even able to function right now, much less hike through such terrain? Dee Rawlings was clearly a very capable and determined police detective. River was also impressed with how easily Dee had disarmed her and shoved a gun in her face. This was a woman who demanded to be taken seriously, much like herself.
Back at Madras, River returned the shop truck and thanked the receptionist for her help. Then she took out her terrain map and pointed to the spot where she’d been exploring. “Do you know this place?”
She looked at the chart. “Does it have a waterfall with a weird rock on it?”
“Yes. It does.”
“Then that’s Angel Creek. It’s on the edge of the national forest.”
An angel. That’s what the rock formation on the creek looked like. “Thanks. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
River took out her plotter and drew a line from the engine site to the point where Dee had stepped on the metal. She shifted her plotter along the line, extended it north, and marked it with a dashed line. This was the flight track of the DC-10 across the ground. She corrected the track for magnetic variation to give her a heading.
Mike taxied the Civil Air Patrol airplane to the front of the terminal building and shut down the engine. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes, but I need you to fly us to these coordinates so I can see it from the air.” River gave him the latitude and longitude of Angel Creek, then showed him where it was located on the chart.
They took off, turned northwest, and River used the binoculars to scan the area around the creek. It was five p.m., and the summer sun wouldn’t set for several hours, but the ridge line of the mountain range blocked the sun, casting long shadows across the foothills. The late rays of sun might glint off some more metal.
“Can you fly an ‘S’ pattern over the creek?”
“Like a lazy eight?” Mike asked.
“Exactly, but not so precise. I want a good look at both sides. Just keep flying along the creek.”
After a few miles, Mike climbed the plane to clear a hill, and River saw a flash of light to her right. She pointed to it, and Mike turned the plane. As they got closer, River focused the binoculars and was able to make out a white triangle shape.
“It may be part of the upper rudder. Can you climb to a higher altitude?”
She saw a second flash, farther away, then another. The last light of day glinted off more metal, and the land before her looked like it was sprinkled with glitter. Broken metal parts littered the ground for miles in every direction.
“Oh my God. Look at that,” Mike said.
“I think we found the main debris field.”
* * *
Day 3
The next morning, the jarring sound of a ringing phone woke Dee from a dead sleep. She sat up, fumbled around for the phone, and was greeted with a screeching headache.
“Yeah?”
“You sound like you’ve been run over by a Mack truck. Got a pen?” Marcus asked.
“Go ahead. Ready to copy.” Dee wrote down the phone number and address for Naomi’s husband, Bill.
“Have you heard anything yet?”
“Nothing so far. They think it exploded in flight.”
“Aw, Dee. I’m so sorry to hear that. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Not for now, but I’ll let you know. Thanks for the info, and I’ll call you later.”
Dee had to steady herself before she tried to stand up. She was suffering from the world’s biggest self-induced hangover and would be feeling bad all day because of her poor judgment last night. But she had achieved her objective of oblivion. She was grateful she hadn’t dreamed last night.
After several cups of coffee and plain toast, she was able to function, sort of. Her eyes were still swollen and red, her mouth tasted like hell, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She was still numb inside. How could she possibly get through this day?
She went to her front window and watched the people and cars moving about on the street below. They were hurrying along, busy in their daily lives, oblivious to the fact that her life was crushed and her future was over. Why would any of these strangers care about her pain? The only person who ever truly cared about her was gone forever, and she had no idea what to do next.
She couldn’t allow herself to fall into a pit of despair again. It didn’t accomplish anything except to overwhelm her with grief. She had to take action, or she would go mad. She looked at Bill’s phone number and started to enter the first few numbers on her phone, then stopped herself. What could she possibly say to him that didn’t sound lame? “Hi. I’m your sister-in-law. We’ve never met, but let’s talk about Naomi’s death.”
She hung up. She couldn’t bear to hear his voice, or his tears, right now. She had no idea how to comfort him, or his daughters, and she didn’t want to hear him try to comfort her. She didn’t want sympathy from anyone. She didn’t want to talk about her feelings. She wanted to do something, anything, to get some answers.
