He counted the change in his pocket, glanced through his wallet for Chris and Renee’s phone number, then got back in his van and drove to the Village. He found a payphone, dropped in a dollar’s worth of quarters, and called them.
“That will be one dollar and fifty-five cents, please,” a voice said in his ear.
He dropped in the additional change, hoping Chris or Renee was home and would answer quickly.
“Calder residence.”
“Chris, it’s Mitch calling from Yosemite. Megs and Dean haven’t—”
“Thank God! She’s in Palm Springs. She had a bad fall.”
Blood rushed into Mitch’s head. “What?”
“Dean is with her. It sounds like she was pretty beaten up. She has a broken arm, a mild concussion, and a few bruised ribs. Dean said she was testing some new gear, and it failed. They’re at the Palm Springs Suites in Room Two-Oh-Four. She was discharged from the hospital a few days ago, but Dean didn’t think she could handle a long drive.”
“When did this happen?”
“About a week ago. Dean called your parents and left a message with your mom.”
A week ago, Mitch had been home. His mother hadn’t passed the message along. Well, he would deal with her eventually.
Damn it!
“Thanks, Chris. I’m on a payphone. If they call again, tell them I’m on my way.”
“I will. Drive safely!”
“Thanks.” A knot in his chest, Mitch climbed back into his van, drove back to camp, and shared the news. “She was testing some new gear, and it failed. I’m headed to Palm Springs.”
Gridwall shot to his feet. “I’m coming with you. Someone has to make sure you stay awake and follow the speed limit.”
“Okay, but no weed or LSD or bullshit like that.”
“Fine.” Gridwall ran back to his tent.
By the time he returned, wearing a clean shirt and a pair of jeans, Mitch had his gear together and was ready to go.
It was a six-hour drive, but Gridwall proved to be a capable navigator—and better company than Mitch had imagined. It was almost ten when they reached the hotel. They made their way through a vacant lobby to the elevator.
“They’re in Room Two-Oh-Four.” Mitch punched the button for the second floor a half-dozen times in quick succession.
“You’re going to see her in just a minute, so take it easy.”
Gridwall was right.
Mitch drew a deep breath.
The elevator doors opened, and Mitch saw that their room was just across the hallway. “There it is.”
He knocked.
Dean opened it, glared at him. “Where the hell have you been, man?”
“My mother didn’t give me the message. I found out what happened when I called Chris to see if he knew where you two were.”
“Jesus!” Dean stepped aside. “She’s in bed. She’s having a hard time sleeping because of the pain in her ribs. They gave her narcotics, but…”
Mitch walked down a short hallway, found Megs propped up on pillows, her hair tousled, yellowing bruises on her cheek, her left arm in a cast. “Megs, honey?”
