“I think we’re all going to find a way to be on Whitney,” Raine agreed. “Tell her tomorrow after your dream. That way you’ll know whether the couple dropped their backpacks at Trail Crest and have their day packs on. I’ll try to find permits and go through them for couples that might be planning to summit Whitney in the two days after tomorrow to see if we can get ahead of him. That’s all we can do, Stella.” She glanced out the window. “The dogs have been patient with us. We can take them for a walk and get all this out of our heads for a little while.”
Stella was more than happy to do just that.
MOMMY, DADDY’S DOING the bad thing again.
There was no mistake about it, the two backpackers were making their way up to the top of Whitney, day packs on their backs. Stella could make them out in the early morning light. Gray streaks glimmered through what had appeared as unrelenting darkness and both turned off their headlamps as they continued at a steady pace.
Occasionally the woman seemed to call out to him to stop and both would look at the wide, sweeping views. Stella had been there more than once and she knew what they were experiencing. The climb was worth every strenuous moment. There was nothing like the beauty of the Sierras, and from atop Whitney, aside from the achievement, the breathtaking views felt like sitting on top of the world. The trail was only two or so miles from Trail Crest to the summit. There was only the one switchback left that could give the two climbers any trouble, and so far, Stella didn’t feel the killer’s presence. He hadn’t followed them from Trail Crest. Perhaps he was waiting for their descent?
Her heart started to accelerate and she immediately calmed herself. This might be the last night for her clues, but she wouldn’t panic. That was the point of all this, gathering every piece of information she could get in order to save these two individuals. She forced herself to be that onlooker, taking in every single detail, looking for the tiniest shape of a rock or an outcropping she might be able to make out in the dim lighting so she could sketch it and hopefully find the exact location if they missed them at Trail Crest.
The female hadn’t shown any signs of altitude sickness. She might be a relatively new backpacker, but she had trained for this hike. Her partner must have stressed the importance of it, or she was a natural at this kind of altitude.
Altitude sickness was nothing to mess around with, and many seasoned hikers fell prey to it. One had to recognize the first signs of it. Headache, nausea, shortness of breath. Legs refusing to cooperate no matter how hard you commanded them to move. Stella knew, she’d had it happen. She’d been careful, going slow, eating the right foods, but still, anything over eight thousand feet was always a risk, a fifty-fifty shot for her. She would try to camp every thousand feet or so if she could when she was preparing for a mountain like Whitney, but it didn’t always guarantee she was going to dodge the altitude sickness that sometimes prevailed, even if it was mild.
The woman said something again to the male and he stopped, came back to her, and they looked out toward the early morning sunrise. It was still too early for the sun to climb high enough to illuminate the granite. He indicated the summit, clearly telling her that if they could make it to the top to watch the sunrise, it would be worth it. She nodded and they started out once again.
Stella felt him then. Just a thin, ominous threat carried on the wind blowing across the open trail. He was like a dark film infiltrating the beauty of the early morning. Sly. Cunning. A sinister presence creeping into the picturesque setting. She couldn’t tell where he was. Behind them? In front of them? She should be able to see him. Why couldn’t she?
She took several deep breaths in an effort to remain calm. It wasn’t like there were places to hide. The early morning light was beginning to reveal more and more, and the killer couldn’t hide in the shadows for much longer. She found herself straining to see through the gray, looking for him.
The couple continued upward toward the summit, and as they came around the last switchback, there was a person huddled right on the edge, rocking back and forth, head in hands, pack beside him, clearly suffering altitude sickness. It wasn’t uncommon to get so close and not be able to make even the last five hundred feet, or think one couldn’t make it. She’d had it happen where her legs just refused to work.