“Let’s take a look at that foot,” I say, lowering myself to one knee.
He starts to take off his boot.
“I’ll do that,” I say. “Just relax and keep your weight off it. You twisted it in a fall?”
“Yeah,” Blake says. “I was being stupid. Gretchen blames testosterone. I told myself if I could get out farther on this narrow ledge, I would absolutely see a landmark we needed. I couldn’t see a damn thing more than I could back where Gretchen was. Then I stumbled and fell.”
At least his story matches hers, with extra detail. As a former police detective, I know what to look for in corroboratingstories. I also note that she’s beside him, drinking from the canteen, where she can’t sneak him body-language messages. His gaze is on me. She’s relaxed and making no effort to interject or add to his story.
“How far did you fall?” I ask as I remove his boot.
“We were hundreds of feet up, but it was only about an eight-foot drop to the next ledge, which is why Gretchen didn’t forbid me from trying for a better look. The problem was how I landed. At first, it seemed okay. The kind of thing you can just walk off. I popped a couple of painkillers, and we got down the mountain no problem. Then we decided to call it an early day, made lunch, and when I went to put on my boot again, it wouldn’t fit.”
I glance at the boot… which had been on his foot. “This boot?”
“We found a stream,” Gretchen says. “Ice-cold water.”
Blake nods. “I got the swelling down enough to pull on my boot. That’s when we heard your pup here.” He smiles and reaches to pat Storm, who tolerates it. “At first, we weren’t sure what it was. That’s one deep bark. I started worrying about bears.”
“’Tis the season.”
He makes a face. “I know. It’s the wrong time of year to be hiking. But we’re careful, and we have spray. We’ve never had a problem.”
“Yes,” his wife murmurs. “That’s what everyone says before they have a problem with grizzlies. And once they do, it’s the last problem they have.”
“It’s fine,” Blake says firmly. “We haven’t evenseena grizzly on this trip.”
Gretchen’s expression suggests she’d been nervous about a backcountry hike at this time of year. It’s a dynamic I’m alwaysgrateful Dalton and I don’t have—where one partner raises concerns and the other dismisses them as overreacting.
It’s a common friction point, though. Suggesting they really are a couple?
My suspicion meter dips a little. Then I see Blake’s ankle. There’s a bit of swelling, but no more than you might see after a long day of hiking. I palpate the foot, and he jumps as if I’ve stabbed him.
“Tender?” I say, my tone neutral.
“Yeah.”
I try pressing my fingers in, but he pulls from my grip.
“I was checking to make sure it isn’t broken,” I say.
“It’s not.”
“Blake, let her check please.”
“It’s not broken. I couldn’t walk on it if it was.”
“That’s actually a common misconception,” I say as I sit back on my haunches.
“Well, it’s not broken. I can tell.”
Huh. Interesting. Is he afraid I’ll realize he’s not actually hurt?
If their goal is to get into Haven’s Rock, wouldn’t they play it up?
You’re right. It does seem broken. I really should get to a doctor.
“I would like to test it for usability,” I say.
