Rant of Ravens (11 page)

“What do you mean?”

“They bury it, like a dog. They dig a hole in the dirt, drop in a morsel, then cover the spot to hide it. It’s rare to locate a cache. The other possibility is finding its nest. It’s late in the season, so most of the raven young have hatched by now. Most have fledged. Still, I think it’s your best bet.” He frowned. “You know, finding one bird in a rant of ravens will be like finding the longest branch on a tree.”

A rant of ravens
. What had Aunt Miriam called them the day Rachel had misidentified a group as crows? An unkindness of ravens. Maybe this one was kinder than it realized.

“Was there anything unusual about the bird?” Harry asked.

Rachel shut her eyes and tried hard to remember. She tried viewing the memory the way she’d study a photograph. The bird flew. The last rays of sunlight bounced off whatever was in his beak, and on his leg. Her eyes flashed open. “Could he have been banded?”

“We’ve banded a few.” Harry thought a moment. “You said the bird flew to Lumpy Ridge?”

“In that general direction. Toward the camel’s back formation.”

“Twin Owls formation,” he corrected, sitting up. “The park conducts a annual raptor observation program to document the nesting sites up there. Last year some volunteers were asked to record any bird activity, and a lot of the records included other sightings. We could check this year’s accountings for a nesting raven.”

Rachel felt a resurgence of excitement. Maybe there was still some hope of finding the disk. “Where are the records kept?”

“In the Raptor House.”

After a short walk, they were rooting around in Eric’s office. Harry came up with the set of binders containing the documentation on nests in the Lumpy Ridge area.

Rachel groaned. “There must be thirty notebooks here.”

“Grab a stack.”

She followed his lead, skimming the daily reports for any notations of raven sightings. She found several, but none that offered any details. After half an hour, Harry jabbed at a page in his notebook. “Eric located a raven’s nest on Twin Owls this year, and he marked the bird as banded.”

“Let me see.”

Eric had drawn a diagram of the nest location beside his notes. The penciled sketch showed the nest perched on an overhanging ledge near the top of the Lower Owl formation on Twin Owls.

“I think this is your best chance. You can see the Lower Owl from almost anywhere on the property. Set up a scope, keep your eyes open. With luck, maybe you’ll spot your bird.”

Rachel impulsively hugged him. Harry blushed, and extricated himself. “Don’t go overboard. More than likely you won’t get what you’re after.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Even if you’re lucky and you spot the bird and find its nest, you can’t climb up there.”

“Why not?”

“The Owls are off-limits because of the peregrines nesting. Climbers scare the birds. Lumpy Ridge is shut down from now until the end of June, maybe early July.”

“I’ll bet that makes the climbers happy.”

“Most are okay with it. We’ve had a few threaten to shoot the raptors. More than likely, that’s what happened to the eyasses’ mother.”

The mention of the stolen chicks reminded Rachel of Aunt Miriam’s disappearance, and she removed the page with the diagram from the notebook. “The sheriff can climb up there.”

“But he won’t.” Harry raked his hair back. “Trust me. It would be political suicide for him. The sheriff is an elected official, and we’re coming up on an election year. Around here the green vote’s crucial. Besides, he needs the support of the townspeople for his juvenile delinquent camp. He isn’t going to do anything to mess that up.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Harry, but Aunt Miriam’s been missing almost two days. What if she’s hurt or needs our help? I can’t just sit here and do nothing. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.” Rachel folded the paper and stuck it in her back pocket. “If I spot the bird, the sheriff will have to listen.”

“Maybe.” Harry stood up, then started for the door. “Let me know how it goes.”

Harry had left, and
Eric never showed up for work. Rachel decided to put her own work on hold, borrowed a pair of binoculars from the office, and dragged a lawn chair around the side of the house. There was a good view of Lower Owl from there. Maybe she’d spot the raven.

She settled down in the chair and tried adjusting the binoculars. First, she maneuvered the spacing between the two barrels, then, once she had gauged the distance correctly, focused the image, using the wheel on top of the glasses. The image blurred. She lowered the binoculars, feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach.

Lark pulled into the driveway, and Rachel tried training the binoculars on her.

“Having trouble?” called Lark, climbing out of her car and slamming the door. She walked toward Rachel, a blurry blob of blue, red, and yellow.

Rachel lowered the glasses again. The sun radiated from Lark’s blond hair. She wore blue jeans and a red T-shirt. Well, at least the color was good. “I must be binocular-challenged.”

“Want some help?”

Rachel handed her the glasses.

“This is the main focus.” Lark pointed to the knob on the top of the binoculars, then she gestured to a small knob on the right eyepiece. “This is the diopter knob. It’s the fine-tuner, and the last person using these things must have been blind.” She twisted the knob counterclockwise. “Okay, now hold the binoculars up to your face and adjust the width of the barrels to fit your eyes. You want to see everything through one big circle, not two.”

Rachel took the binoculars and followed Lark’s instructions. “Done.”

“Now use the focus on top to focus in on something.”

“That’s better.”

“Wait. Now close your left eye and turn the diopter until the image you see through your right eye is clear.”

Rachel twisted the eyepiece knob and the Twin Owls buttresses came more sharply into view.

“Clear?” Lark asked.

“Crystal.”

“Good.” Lark fidgeted, then pointed at the binoculars. “By the way, there’s a gauge on the diopter. Make a note of the setting. That way, if someone else uses your binos, you can reset them easy.”

Rachel checked. The gauge was numbered clockwise, and the mark fell between the 0 and the 1. “Duly noted. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The silence stretched between them until finally Rachel lowered the binoculars. She might as well be the one to broach the subject. “Why didn’t you tell me Bursau was staying at The Drummond?”

Lark’s chin jutted into the air. “I don’t see how it makes any difference.”

“It probably doesn’t.” Rachel turned away and lifted the binoculars back to her eyes. “It’s more a matter of trust.” Miriam was missing, and Lark had withheld information. Any tidbit, any clue, seemed important, as attested to by the present lawn chair observation.

“I guess I should have coughed it up.” Lark crossed her legs and sat down Indian-style on the ground beside the chair. “By the time it seemed relevant, there wasn’t much point in bringing it up. The Sheriff’s Department had searched the hotel room while you were with Harry in Garcia’s car. Anyway, the maid had already cleaned the room, and Garcia’s guys found squat.”

“How about the maid? Did she tell
you
she found anything?” Rachel already knew from the interview that she’d told the
Gazette
reporter the room was empty.

“She claims it was clean.”

Rachel refocused the binoculars on the Lower Owl, a small, broken outcrop sitting directly in front of the Twin Owls. Less imposing, the Lower Owl was about half the size of the twin buttresses, a giant mass of gray, craggy rock rising over a hundred feet in the air.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Lark asked, twisting her braid.

Rachel first filled her in on the break-in. “But then I remembered having seen two birds the night we found Bursau’s body—the LeConte’s sparrow and a raven. Of course, everyone thinks I’ve lost my mind.” She continued to scan the skies. “But Harry helped me find the records on the raven, and I’m trying to find its nest.”

“Where is it supposed to be?”

“Do you see that overhang on the southeast side, about three-quarters of the way up?” Rachel pointed. “That’s where Eric has the nest marked in his notes.” She handed the paper to Lark. “But I can’t see it.”

“You need to be closer.” Lark waggled the paper in front of Rachel’s face. “Regardless, you’re nuts.”

“Ah, you’re in the majority.”

Lark picked up a pine needle and threw it like a spear at a sprig of red Indian paintbrush. “What are you planning to do if you do spot the bird?”

“Check the nest for something it might have carried off.”

“Like a computer disk?”

“I always said you were smart.”

“But you can’t. Lumpy Ridge is off-limits to climbers, and that includes the Lower Owl. They’ll put you in jail if they catch you up there.”

“Yeah, if I go to Garcia and he refuses to check out the nest, then I can’t climb because he’ll know what I’m planning to do. But this way, we’ll have the element of surprise on our side, and maybe we won’t get caught.”

“We?”

Rachel refused to be deterred. “You do know how to climb, don’t you?”

Lark hooted. “You’re not just crazy, you’re certifiable. I’m not going anywhere near that rock.”

Rachel’s fingers squeezed the binoculars. Roger had taken her climbing once or twice, even if it was under duress. She knew how to look for hand- and footholds, and how to belay. “Well, I am.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Rachel forced her fingers to relax, lifted the binoculars, and panned the rock face. “I’m not so sure Lower Owl isn’t climbable without ropes.”

“Right, and Rowdy was a gentle mule.”

Rachel grinned at Lark’s reference to a past fiasco that had her name written on it. “That was fifteen years ago, Lark.”

“My tailbone doesn’t remember it that way.”

Rachel had dared her to climb on a mule that Uncle William was boarding in a pasture near the barn. “He didn’t buck you off until you kicked him.”

“That’s how you get a horse to move.”

“He was a mule.”

“I broke my tush.”

Rachel laughed. “I’m just glad Uncle William didn’t break mine to match. Anyway, this isn’t the same.” The more she studied the Lower Owl formation, the more convinced she was she could climb the rock, with or without help.

Suddenly, something black moved against the cliff. A bird hopped twice, then rose from a crack on the Lower Owl.

“There it is.” She pointed. “Do you see it?”

The bird floated on the thermals, swooping and soaring; a lone, raspy
kaw
echoed softly from the rocks, breaking the stillness.

“Let me have the binoculars.”

“It came from that crack on the right side of the rock.”

“What crack? I see fifty cracks.”

“No, this one’s obvious. You see the Lower Owl formation?”

“Duh.”

“Follow a line parallel to the top and join the bottom of the vee, making a triangle. There’s a hole on that line, about two-thirds of the way across, that looks like a cave. Imagine it’s the pom-pom on a clown’s hat. The brim of the hat is the crevice the bird flew out of.”

Lark burst out laughing.

“Just shut up and try it.” Rachel watched Lark scan the cliff face. She stopped panning, swung the binoculars back, and moved her gaze down a fraction.

“I think I’ve got it.”

“Now all we have to do is climb up there and—”

“I already told you, I’m not going up there. I don’t do heights.”

“Lark, it’s dangerous to climb alone, and Eric’s nowhere around. Harry’s in Boulder. That leaves the other EPOCH members, and I can’t picture Gertie climbing up there.”

Lark grinned, then pulled her mouth into a hard line. “The mountain is off-limits for a reason.”

“But this could be the clue we need to find Aunt Miriam.”

“What about the peregrines and golden eagles? They have nests on the buttresses. If we disturb them, they might abandon their young.”

“Then we’ll be careful.” Rachel pushed herself out of the chair. “Fine, if you won’t go with me, I’ll go by myself.”

“What about EPOCH ethics? You took an oath when you joined the group.”

“Aunt Miriam signed me up.” Rachel held up her right hand. “I swear, if we see any nesting peregrines, we’ll steer clear, go the other way. Besides, Harry told me most of the birds have fledged.”

Rachel started to walk away. Lark grabbed her arm. “Everyone in Elk Park can see Twin Owls. We’ll be arrested before we can climb halfway to that crack, provided we don’t fall and kill ourselves first.”

“We don’t have to climb to the top, only partway. That section can be seen by only half of Elk Park. Besides, we’ll be back down before anyone notices.”

Lark pinched her lips together and twisted her braid. Rachel sensed she was wearing down.

“You said you’d teach me things.”

“I meant about birding, not playing mountain goat.” Lark flipped her braid off her shoulder. “I must be out of my mind, letting you talk me into this. Let’s go before I chicken out.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Rachel clambered out of her chair and clapped Lark on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you beside your car in two minutes.”

She scooted into the house before Lark reconsidered, grabbed two water bottles, and changed into the hiking boots she’d worn on the last trip she’d taken with Roger. The one to Yellowstone. Lark was leaning against her car when Rachel charged down the front steps a few minutes later. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Lark said, slipping a coil of rope over her shoulder and pointing the way to the start of the trailhead. “I figure we might need it.”

Rachel pushed ahead up the short, steep section to the base of the Lower Owl. She knew they were taking a risk. But what other way was there? The longer Aunt Miriam was missing, the less chance they would find her unharmed. Rachel was just relieved Lark had agreed to come along.

The first section was a relatively easy climb along a ridge of trees that angled up the base of the rock. Rachel stumbled once, grabbing a branch for support. The rough bark scraped her hand, and gummy pine sap smeared her fingers.

Soon the trees grew closer together. Rocks cropped up on the downhill side and the cliff face rose sharply on the other, forming a trough that grew steeper with each footstep. The sun beat down on them. Heat rose in waves off the granite rocks.

Rachel stopped as the ground leveled off and flapped her shirttail, cooling her sticky back. She glanced at her watch. They’d been climbing an hour. “This isn’t so bad.”

“How much further do we have to go?” The tremor in Lark’s voice revealed her anxiety. She threw herself against a large boulder, pulled long on her water, and wiped her mouth on her shirtsleeve.

“I think this is where we cut up.” Rachel pointed toward a lone tree growing fifty feet above them. “I remember that tree. Another fifty feet above that is the ledge where I spotted the raven.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Rachel had grown up in the city, but she’d climbed rocks in the park and on vacations. “Didn’t you ever climb rocks as a kid? I’ll race you to the tree.”

“Lead on, oh fearless one.”

Rachel pulled herself up the first boulder, aware that from here on out, they could be seen by anyone in east Elk Park. She had worn a beige shirt and tan jeans, hoping to blend in, but her red hair flamed against the rocks. A dead giveaway. Add that to Lark’s bright T-shirt and blue Levis—invisibility was something they had not. “Try and stick to the crevasses wherever possible.”

It took nearly another hour to reach the lone tree. Rachel threw herself on the ground, and watched Lark struggle the last five feet. Elk Park stretched out below them, the lake shimmering in the distance. The Drummond Hotel loomed on the ridge, and downtown bustled with life. The summer onslaught of tourists had begun.
Let’s hope they’re all too busy to look up
.

Lark crested the ledge, stuck out her tongue, and panted. “And I thought I was in pretty good shape.”

“Not!” The muscles in Rachel’s calves cramped from exertion, and her arms ached from pulling against the rock. Even working out three times a week on the stair-stepper at the gym hadn’t prepared her for this. Still, she liked the heightened senses that came with exhilaration, and the view. She now understood what Roger saw in the sport. “But we’re almost there. We can do this.”

Her companion eyed the cliff above them dubiously. “That’s pretty steep, Rae. More like a technical climb. I think we should turn back.”

“Not now that we’re this close.” Doing something to help find Aunt Miriam had assuaged her worry, if only temporarily. Besides, they’d come too far to give up.

“How are we supposed to get up there?”

Rachel studied the rock, sighting the ledge. The raven swooped in, something gripped in its beak. A few moments later it flapped away. “He looks bigger up close.”

“They’re known to protect their nests, you know.”

“Don’t even think you’re going to dissuade me.”

“Then I’ll follow.”

“Great.” Rachel gripped a knobby chunk of rock, wedged her toe into a knee-high crevice, and reached up. Hand over hand she climbed, the rock biting into her fingers, scraping her knuckles raw. She glanced down once to check on Lark, and the ground wavered below her. The cliff tilted. Rachel closed her eyes and held on.

“What I want to know,” called Lark, “is how are we going to get down?”

Rachel pressed her face to the rock, clenched her eyes shut, and pondered the question. Climbing up was one thing; climbing down was another. Going up, she could see where to place her hands and feet, and she didn’t have to look at the ground. “Carefully?”

“We’re going to die.”

“Stop it, Lark.” Panicking now served no good purpose. Rachel was already terrified. “We’re almost there. Just a few more feet to go.”

“I’ll wait for you here.”

Rachel opened her eyes. The ground steadied, and she could see Lark clinging to a ledge halfway between herself and the lower ledge. Lark’s fingers gripped the rock so tightly her knuckles appeared as white as her face.

A loud crack above her made Rachel look up. A rock dropped from the sky. She startled and her foot slipped. Rachel flinched as the rock glanced off the upper ledge. Then she struggled to regain her foothold. The rock tumbled past, crashing to the canyon floor.