Embers glowed in the grate. He saw empty wine bottles on the floor and jars of wildflowers on the windowsills.
Del Rio called out, “Is anyone here?”
There was no answer.
There was a light on in the hacienda-style kitchen, another designer-inspired room, bright with Mexican tiles. Iron hooks hung from the beamed ceiling, holding pots and pans. There were dishes in the sink and plates with remains of chocolate cake sitting on the counter.
He could almost see Danny and Piper cutting up right here.
Del Rio found the bedroom down a short hallway. The bed was king-size, made of birch saplings, and took up most of the room. He noted the rumpled sheets, the pillows that had fallen between the mattress and the wall, and the calico quilt in a heap on the floor.
Piper’s sundress, the one that she had worn for her scene that day, was over the back of a chair. Feminine underthings were on the seat and a pair of flat shoes was underneath it.
Didn’t need to be a genius to see that sex had happened here. In fact, the entire place had the look of a nonstop party. Too bad Piper was sixteen and Danny was twenty-four.
Del Rio continued his quick tour of the cabin. The bathroom was empty. Damp towels were hanging over the shower curtain rod. He opened closets, found men’s casual clothes and shoes.
Relieved not to find bloodstains or any other signs of violence, Del Rio returned to the kitchen and exited by way of the back door.
The deck cantilevered out over the canyon. It was furnished with a grill and comfortable chairs. Beyond the deck, a spot of light bobbed along a trail and then was blocked from view by a thicket of trees.
Del Rio went down the steps to the path through the scrub dotted with trees. He walked fast, ducking under branches, and caught up with Justine.
She spun, startled by his touch on her shoulder. “Find anything, Rick?”
“Looks like the kids were having a good time. That’s it.”
“How could Danny be so stupid?”
“Call him. Now,” Del Rio said.
Justine did. “Danny. Danny, where are you? It’s Justine.”
Her voice echoed across the canyon. Del Rio said, “Listen.”
He heard a man’s voice saying, “I’m here,” coming from far along the path. And then there was the sound of car doors slamming behind them, back at the cabin.
CHAPTER 76
THERE WAS ZERO visibility.
Del Rio thought that the night was so black, even dawn couldn’t break through the moonless and overcast sky.
While Justine went back to the cabin, Del Rio pushed ahead, following the narrow path through oak and sycamore and chest-high scrub in the direction of Danny’s intermittent cries, until the trail ended in a clearing.
He flashed his light around, and there was Danny, just ahead. The kid was wearing only his boxers, lying facedown on the ground, pretty much hysterical.
Del Rio went to him, stooped down, shook his shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“Nooo,” Danny cried.
His voice was slurred and he stank of booze. Del Rio saw that he was clutching a shoe, like a ballet slipper. Danny’s flashlight was turned off or dead, lying an arm’s length away.
“Where’s Piper?”
Danny rolled onto his side and pointed to where the trail ended and the steep drop into the canyon began.