Page 18

18

Union Hill

D iana Mercer tilted her head, using her peripheral vision to track the server weaving through the crowded rooftop deck of Vines & Vibes. The tapas and wine bar’s prime corner table had an unobstructed view across the courtyard to Rory’s apartment, where the impromptu exhibition continued to command the attention of the growing crowd. Diana, unable to appreciate the photographs from this distance, focused on the reactions of the rest of the onlookers.

“Another glass?” The server appeared at her elbow, gesturing toward her empty wine glass.

“One’s my limit.”

She gave her yellow-tinted glasses a soft tap as if reminding herself that she’d be wise to keep her intake moderate, no matter how tasty the reds on offer might be.

Julie Mason, seated to her right, lifted her own glass. “I’ll take another tempranillo.”

“And I’m fine as well,” Evan Jeffries said from Diana’s left. The history professor leaned forward, resting his leather-patched elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on Rory’s photos across the courtyard. “Extraordinary work. The juxtaposition of light and shadow, the raw emotion in the subjects’ faces—it demands a response.”

Julie snorted softly. “You can say that again. Though I question her tactics.”

Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d known both Julie and Evan since high school, and some things never changed. Julie was the ambitious girl who escaped to the city, only to return to their tiny town years later as its self-proclaimed savior. Evan was the idealistic do-gooder who went off to college to soak up knowledge like a sponge and returned to his hometown to share it. She wondered idly what that made her.

As Evan huffed, Diana’s musing was quickly supplanted by a silent hope that Julie and Evan wouldn’t start one of their interminable debates. Evan, a democratic socialist and activist, and Julie, the consummate capitalist, were locked in an eternal battle as opponents over the proper direction of Union Hill’s ongoing evolution.

While Evan was still winding up for his lecture, a stranger appeared on the deck. A lanky man with a tangle of dark, shoulder-length curls mounted the stairs and stood, scanning the crowd. He wore dusty hiking clothes and had a backpack settled on his shoulders. He carried a messenger bag in one hand and, incongruously, held a shoe in the other.

“Excuse me,” the man said to nobody in particular in a deep, rich voice that carried across the now-hushed patio. “I’m looking for Diana Mercer.”

As Evan and Julie turned to look at her in surprise, she lifted her hand. “Over here.”

A path opened in the sea of bodies to allow the man to make his way to their table. He edged through the crowd with economical movements and stopped beside Diana’s chair. She sensed, more than saw, tension in his posture.

“Ms. Mercer? I’m Bodhi King.” He eased his pack off his shoulders and set it down beside the table but kept a tight grip on the messenger bag and the shoe. “I’ve just come from the police station.”

What had Ron done now?

The question was still forming in her mind, when the man continued, “I went there to report a missing person, but the chief of police was disinclined to investigate.”

She glanced at the bright digits on her oversized watch face. “Well, it’s nearly time for his siesta,” she deadpanned.

Julie snickered into her fresh glass of wine, and Evan shook his head.

Bodhi King gave her a patient, steady look.

Diana felt compelled to explain. “Chief Mercer is my ex-husband. He’s never been accused of being proactive—or energetic.” Then she frowned. “Although even Ron would ordinarily respond to a missing person’s report. Especially one involving a tourist. Have you lost a hiking companion?”

“Not exactly. I found this.” He rested the messenger bag on the table.

She leaned over it for a closer inspection, turning her head so she wasn’t looking at it straight on. Julie leaned in, too. “That looks like Rory’s bag.”

“If Rory is Aurora Westin, I believe it is her bag. Her driver’s license was on the ground beside it, along with some camera equipment.”

“Where exactly did you find this, Mr. King?” Diana asked.

“Bodhi’s fine. I’m hiking the trail from Pittsburgh. Today’s mileage was Clarksville to here. I stopped at the Western Trail History Center this afternoon.” He paused to nod at Evan, who snapped his fingers as if realizing that he recognized the hiker. “After I left there, I crossed a stream, approximately eight miles into my walk, and spotted an unattended bicycle off the side of the trail.”

“A mountain bike?” Evan asked. “Bright red?”

Bodhi nodded. “Yes. I searched the immediate area for the owner. That’s when I found this bag and its contents, along with this single cycling shoe, in a secluded cave.”

“Just one shoe?” Diana murmured.

“Just the one,” he confirmed. Then he went on, his voice resonant and somber, “There was also blood on the cave floor.”

“Blood?” Julie echoed.

Evan sucked in a breath.

Diana drew her eyebrows together. “You reported all of this to the police chief?”

“Yes,” Bodhi confirmed. “He informed me that the department didn’t plan to waste resources on what he called Ms. Westin’s publicity stunt.”

She tightened her jaw and clamped her lips together to keep her inside thoughts inside.

“I pressed him and tried to explain that the situation could be serious. But he told me I was welcome to form a search party of volunteers if I was so concerned. Then he invited me to see myself out. As I was doing so, an officer named Sarah pulled me aside and suggested I find you. She said you might be here. She didn’t explain why I should look for you.”

Diana felt the weight of his gaze on her as if it were a physical thing. “Sarah sent you to me because before the current Chief Mercer was in charge, I led the police department for almost a decade.”

She reached out and ran a light finger over the black messenger bag’s strap. It was definitely Rory’s bag. She rarely left her studio without it.

“Ah, that makes sense.”

She peered at him. “Are you sure it was blood you saw? Could it have been something else?”

“I’m sure. I’m a forensic pathologist.” He paused to let this information sink in. “It was blood, fresh blood. It was still wet, only just beginning to turn tacky to the touch.”

“How fresh?” Evan wanted to know.

“Less than an hour old at that point.”

“In a cave,” Diana mused.

There were at least a half-dozen caves between here and Clarksville. She hoped the forensic pathologist could find it again. She also hoped they wouldn’t be in need of his pathology skills.

“I might know the cave,” Julie said quickly. “Rory photographed a cave last year for a tourism brochure I was putting together. She said most people walk right past it.”

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses, thinking. “You know where it is?”

Julie grimaced. “Well, not exactly.”

Diana fell silent for a beat. Then she recovered her manners. “Bodhi, this is Julie Mason, she’s a local developer.”

“CEO of Mason Property and Development,” Julie interjected, reaching for Bodhi’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said before turning to Evan. “And we met at the history center, but we weren’t formally introduced.”

“Ah, yes. You’re the gentleman I shooed out of the exhibit so I could close up. Evan Jeffries. Apologies for chasing you out.”

Bodhi laughed. “No apology needed. I was there for a long time. The exhibit had a powerful effect on me.”

Evan’s face lit up with pride. Then he blinked at Bodhi from behind his glasses and gestured toward Rory’s apartment across the way. “Are you aware of what’s happening here?”

Bodhi shook his head. “No. I couldn’t miss the crowd, but I don’t know what all the excitement is about.

Diana gazed across the courtyard. Dusk had crept in and she could no longer make out the photographs in the dim light. Apparently, neither could anyone else.

Evan leaned forward, eager to explain. “Rory created a guerrilla exhibition of her work after her gallery show in Pittsburgh was canceled. She’s been documenting displacement along the Great Allegheny Passage—families and businesses pushed out by developers.”

Diana didn’t miss the sideways glance Evan gave Julie. Neither did Julie, who stiffened but said nothing.

“This afternoon, she unveiled the exhibit across the way in her apartment and then posted on social media that she planned to document more sites along the trail. That explains why she’s out on the trail,” Evan finished.

“It doesn’t explain why she left her bike and camera behind,” Diana said. “Or why she’d wander off wearing only one shoe.”

“There’s no way she’d leave her camera voluntarily,” Julie agreed.

“It also doesn’t explain the blood.” Bodhi gave voice to what the rest of them wouldn’t or couldn’t.

After a beat, Diana said, “No. It doesn’t.”

“You didn’t find her phone?” Evan asked.

“No phone,” Bodhi confirmed.

Evan pulled out his cell phone and tapped a number eagerly, activated the speakerphone function, and placed the device on the table. They all leaned over it, waiting for it to ring. But the call went directly to voicemail without ringing.

“You’ve reached Rory. I rarely check my messages. Please text me instead.”

Evan deflated as he jabbed the phone off. “It didn’t even ring. It’s either turned off or she doesn’t have coverage.”

“Or her battery’s dead,” Diana added. “Go ahead and text her anyway, Evan. It can’t hurt.”

As the professor thumbed out a text, Bodhi dropped his voice. “Did she have any history of mental illness? Depression? Suicidal ideation?”

“Not that I know of,” Diana said.

“She wouldn’t hurt herself,” Julie said firmly. “That’s not Rory.”

“So if the police won’t look for her, what do we do now?” Evan asked as he stowed his phone in his pocket.

“We look for her,” Diana responded simply. “Do you think you could lead us back to her, Bodhi?” She asked the question to the table in general instead of attempting to make eye contact with the man in the fading light.

He turned toward her, positioning himself so that he was in her line of sight. Then he answered her question and asked one of his own. “I can find the cave again. If you don’t mind my asking, how advanced is your AMD?” he asked.

His directness startled her. “What gave it away?”

“Small things. The way you track sounds rather than movement. How you oriented your head just now to use your peripheral vision as if you have a blind spot in the center of your vision. The yellow-tinted glasses to help with contrast.”

“The dry form. Stable for now.” She matched his matter-of-fact tone.

“Are you sure you’re up for leading a search party?”

She pushed back her chair. “I’m up for joining it, but I won’t be leading it. You will.”

Before he could respond, Julie popped to her feet.

“I’m coming, too. I know this area better than most.”

“Count me in as well,” Evan added, buttoning his cardigan.

Bodhi surveyed the group. “It’ll be dark by the time we get to the cave.”

“We’ll stop by the OAC store for gear. Headlamps, jackets, first-aid supplies, maybe some food,” Julie suggested, signaling for the check.

Then their little group of four made their way through the thinning crowd and down the stairs. Bodhi offered Diana his arm, but she waved it away in favor of the railing. She counted the steps silently as they descended so she’d know when she hit the pavement.

By the time they reached the street, the sun had slipped below the horizon, and the retro street lamps and string lights blazed brightly. Diana realized they’d need more than headlamps if they wanted to start the search tonight.

As if he’d read her mind, Bodhi said, “We don’t have luxury of waiting until first light, unfortunately.”

“I know,” she said simply.

Rory was alone, bleeding in the woods. With each passing hour, the odds of finding her alive decreased.