A Second Chance at Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

asked.
    He ignored our questions. He handed us a card and turned without speaking. Becca and I shared a look. We’d follow him, wherever he was going. The search-and-rescue team hadn’t been gone that long, they couldn’t be that far away.
    Sergio hiked down the dirt trail toward the river, but took a left instead of a right where Parker and I had fallen from the cliff the night before. He walked with purpose, as if he had intimate knowledge of the trails. We kept our distance and followed him in silence. The trail descended into a small canyon, the ground becoming slick and muddy. I could hear the sound of running water up ahead. Sergio ducked through some bushes, stepping over fallen branches and avoiding protruding shrubs.
    Despite last night’s freezing temperatures, the day was heating up and sweat dripped off my brow as I struggled to keep my footing. In the distance, the dogs were growling and barking. Montserrat’s voice greeted Sergio.
    â€œ
¡Aquí!
” she called.
    Sergio moved forward, his gait steady and even. The trail gave way to a small clearing that was bordered with several rocks large enough to sit on. There was something in the ground, hidden near the bushes; something large, like a heap.
    Something lifeless.
    My heart lurched and I took off in a mad dash. A scream echoed through the canyon that I hardly recognized as my own.
    Dear God, no, no, please don’t be Scott.
    I ran so hard I collided into a bush and then Sergio in my attempt to get to the body. Sergio grabbed me and said “Eh, eh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
    His hand was on my head, pressing it to his shoulder, trying to keep me from seeing the corpse that had already been burned into my retinas.
    It was a woman. Her body was partially obscured by the bushes, but I could make out dark long hair and a polka-dot skirt that seemed gruesomely out of place.
    Equal parts relief and distress coursed through my body. A woman.
    Not Scott.
    I was both elated and disappointed with myself at the same time. How could I be happy over finding a dead body? But the single thought reverberating through my head was that Scott was still alive.
    Montserrat was blocking Becca from coming any further. But one glance at my friend and I knew she’d surmised the same thing as I had: The body was not Scott. Tears were streaming down my face and I pushed away from Sergio.
    â€œIt’s not him,” I said.
    â€œI know,” he said. “The dogs followed his scent up the road.” He jutted his chin toward the hillside, where there was a narrow gravel road.
    â€œThe scent has disappeared from there,” Sergio said.
    The weight of what he was suggesting hit me suddenly.
    â€œScott didn’t harm this woman!” I protested.
    Montserrat came to my side. “Please, miss, we don’t know the circumstances yet. Please go back to camp.”
    The dogs were growling miserably at the woman’s body and hastily unearthed something.
    â€œ
¿Qué es?”
Sergio demanded.
    â€œ
Un reloj
,” Montserrat said. Next to the woman was a watch.
    Seeing it, my mouth went dry and my stomach dropped.
    It was undeniably Scott’s sports watch. Becca flashed me a look.
    â€œIs that your boyfriend’s watch?” Sergio asked.
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. Lots of people have watches like that.”
    â€œYeah,” Becca said, “they sell them everywhere in the U.S.”
    Montserrat and Sergio said something to each other, again in rapid-fire Spanish, their exchange ending with Montserrat turning to us and saying in short, clipped English, “Ladies, let me take you back to camp. Please.”
    Sergio was on his walkie-talkie to another team, presumably the crime scene team. Would they run a DNA scan on Scott’s watch? Did they even do that in Spain? Or was the fact that a dog growled at a watch enough to try and convict him? God help us.
    Montserrat walked Becca and me