Page 61 of Race With The Devil

“No. Absolutely not. He’s a lover, not a fighter. Once he came back with a condom wrapper. Okay, this cliff looks pretty steep.” He set the quadcopter down after taking some protective plastic cups from its feet. “Here. You go.” He handed the control panel to Tanner.

Tanner grinned like a boy. “I’ve used these before. Not one this new and high-tech though.”

Wolf shrugged. “Well, you’re the pilot. Now you’re the drone pilot. Okay, we turn both on . . . “

As the quad beeped several times, Wolf inserted an iPhone into the holder at the top of the control panel. He connected to the drone’s wifi, then launched the app. I was more interested in Tanner’s face. He looked so smoothed-out and youthful playing with that toy. The iPhone had turned into a camera now and Tanner was practically giddy with glee to be calibrating a compass, whatever that meant. I sort of crossed my arms and leaned against the rock wall that was farthest away from the sheer drop.

I mused at how horrible Lavinia’s last moments must have been. Even if she’d been happily unaware of Tutti’s intentions the whole way to this path, the millisecond he shoved her over the edge it would take her a hellalong four seconds to fall to her death. What was going through her mind at that time? Where did my life go? Would she die of a heart attack before she hit bottom? Or if she lived, for how long before she died of exposure or animals picking away at her?

I had a feeling we’d soon know these answers . . .

“I like to calibrate the gimbal,” said Wolf.

“Oh yeah,” agreed Tanner. “That’s always a good idea.”

“We got seven or more satellites available?”

“Yeah, looks good.”

Now I knew what to get Tanner for Christmas. “Ooo!” I cried involuntarily when the drone raised itself ten feet in the air, buzzing like a weed whacker.

Tanner played with turning left and right, up and down, using the controller’s joy sticks. Wolf went to the trail’s very edge, which must’ve been a doozy because there was actually a railing, and looked down. He made hand signals to Tanner that made no sense to me, but now the drone was moving out over the canyon. I stood behind Tanner, looking at the screen. Now a whole mile’s worth of trail could be seen onscreen, as twisted as a tapeworm. Of course, Tutti wouldn’t have left Lavinia on a path, but the drone could now descend and search both sides of the trail below.

Wolf crowded me aside. “Let’s take a video in case we need it for evidence.” He pushed a red button on the phone’s screen. “Go wherever you think is best. Left, right, we need to peruse each side of the trail, especially where it looks like a steep drop-off.”

“Cool,” said Tanner. “Almost like flying a glider.”

“Except louder,” I said.

Tanner was speeding over the ridges and ice-covered monoliths of the canyon. It was like watching the opening credits of a movie. But Wolf did not approve.

“Slow down! You’ve got to investigate each little slot canyon—go back! You just passed a real deep one.”

Tanner pouted. “Just having fun.”

Wolf was stern. “Yeah, well, ‘having fun’ will not find our body. There. Go down. Don’t hit that tree! Good. Good. Good. What’s that bit of red?”

“Just someone’s fucking coke can,” said Tanner.

“Ugh. Wish we could pick up trash with this thing.”

I’d never known Wolf to be such an environmentalist. Maybe some of Tanner was rubbing off on him.

They checked out both sides of the trail, high and low. There was no cave, grotto, or indentation that the drone could not visually check out. We found a lot more garbage, which was disheartening, mostly cans of beer or soda.

I held the official map out over the void below. “You’re reaching the Coconino Saddle,” I said. “That’s a thousand feet below us. You couldn’t pay me to go on that trail.”

Tanner said, “The trail’s about three feet wide there.”

Wolf said, “Like nightmares I’ve had. There. Go straight down from the saddle. It’s hairy.”

I wandered a bit down the trail to get a better view of the drone, which I could still see—or maybe I just heard it in the profound silence of the canyon. Some kind of bird of prey cawed like an ancient pterodactyl, and a small rodent rustled a crispy bush. I jumped when, in the corner of my peripheral vision, something like a coyote appeared on our trail, about ten yards in the distance.

It was no coyote. It was Beetle.

Relief washed from me. “Beetle!” I cried, squatting and holding out my arms.

He had something in his mouth. He was proud of it as he trotted forward.