The Thunder Keeper(70)

He was already pulling, praying Eddie would hold on. Delaney’s body started to rise over the edge: the light matted hair, the red jacket scrunched under his arms. And then the man was on his belly, legs extended into the darkness. Father John managed another hard yank, then another, until Delaney was sprawled motionless across the ledge.

He dropped down on one knee. The pain hit him like a bolt of lightning. There was no air. Seconds passed. Finally his breath started again, hard and fast, each breath like an inhalation of fire. He could hear his heart pounding. The thunder boomed overhead, a cacophony of sound that shook the ledge. “Wentworth’s dead,” he heard himself say.

“Thunder killed him,” Eddie said. He was standing at the edge looking down. “Thunder came and destroyed the evil.”

Below, a light was moving through the darkness. There was no question now: the light was coming up the path. Father John felt a surge of relief. Slinger had gotten the message.

Delaney was sobbing beside him, a low, guttural noise. Father John laid a hand on the man’s shoulders. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said. Then he crawled over to the girl. The ledge was wet and cold beneath his hands. He picked up the thin wrist and probed once more for a pulse.

“They hit her pretty hard,” Eddie said behind him. “I thought they killed her.”

Delaney’s sobs rose into a long-sustained howl, like that of a wounded animal.

The pulse was there, faint but regular. “She’s alive,” Father John said.

“O’Malley. You up there?” Slinger’s voice sounded fuzzy in the rain.

“We need help!” he shouted down at the light wavering below.

There were the sounds of boots scratching over wet rock, someone gasping for breath. A minute passed before Slinger hauled himself over the boulders and onto the ledge, shining a flashlight about. The light stopped on the girl. “Medic!” the detective shouted.

A couple of uniformed officers were coming up behind him. One of them bounded forward and went straight to the girl. He checked her throat and wrist, then shone a flashlight onto her face. She looked like a sleeping child, eyelids flickering a moment before she awoke.

“No!” she screamed. The small body began to shake, pulling back toward the cliff, as if she could disappear into the sandstone with the spirits.

Father John leaned closer. “It’s okay, Ali. It’s over.” She stared up at him out of eyes wild with disbelief.

“Eddie?” she said finally.

“I’m here.” The Indian moved between Father John and the medic and took the girl’s hand.

“You want to tell me what the hell happened up here?” Slinger said.



“I need a phone, Slinger,” Father John said.

The overhead light flickered inside the detective’s cruiser. Outside was only the darkness and the rain pounding on the roof.

Slinger lifted his head from the notebook balanced on the steering wheel. He’d been scribbling for the last five minutes.

It had taken almost an hour to walk down the path. An officer leading the way, shining the flashlight ahead, then Eddie and Delaney and two officers carrying Ali in a tarp.

Father John had followed the tarp, every step sending shock waves through him. Slinger was beside him, grabbing his arm from time to time to steady him. He must’ve been stumbling, he realized. He felt weak and dizzy with pain.

On the way down he’d managed to tell the detective about the diamond deposit in the valley, about the boss in Denver—Baider—ordering Buck Wentworth and Jimmie Delaney to kill anyone who found out about the deposit, about the fight on the ledge and Wentworth’s body somewhere below on the cliffs.

After the two officers had gotten Ali into the back of a van, the medic insisted on taking a closer look at him. He’d crawled into the van beside the girl. The soaked jacket came off, then the shirt that clung to his skin. Fingers probed at him. “Got a broken rib, maybe two,” the medic announced. Finally the tape, tightening around him. Father John had groaned with the pain.

“You’ll want to get an X-ray at the hospital . . .”

He had no intention of going to the hospital. He’d managed to get out of the van and stumble through the rain, past the sedan with Eddie and Delaney in the backseat, to another sedan where Slinger was bent over the notebook.

He’d crawled into the backseat. “I’ve got to warn Vicky Holden before—”

“Before what?”

“Before Baider kills her.”

“Look, Father, we’ve got a team coming up to try and retrieve whatever’s left of Wentworth’s body. Soon’s we wrap this up, we’ll send an official report to the Denver police.”