Chapter 2 - THE STORY DANA TOLD FIRST
Alan saved Emily.
Not neatly. Not heroically in the movie sense.
He braced one knee against the rock, dug both boots into the dirt, and dragged her up inch by inch while Dana clawed for the phone and Noah screamed for help toward an empty trail.
By the time another hiking couple came jogging from the parking area, Emily was half on the ledge and half on top of Alan, sobbing against his jacket.
Dana was crying too.
Loudly.
Convincingly.
That turned out to matter.
By the time county deputies and a rescue crew arrived near the Black Canyon trail spur outside Grand Junction, Dana had a story ready.
Emily lost her footing.
The rope caught on the rock.
Dana only pulled out her phone because she panicked and wanted to record the position in case rescuers needed to see what happened.
Emily was upset and confused.
Emily had hit her head.
Emily was angry because they had argued in the car.
Every true thing Dana could use, she used.
Emily had argued in the car.
She had hit her head.
She was angry.
What Dana did not say was that the argument was about money, mail, and a locked desk drawer back in Lakewood.
Or that she had leaned down when Alan turned to call 911 and whispered, “One less mouth to feed.”
Emily repeated the whisper to Deputy Serrano while a paramedic wrapped her ankle and checked her pupils.
Serrano listened carefully, but Emily could see the limits immediately.
There was no obvious stab wound.
No blood.
The rope would have to be examined.
The phone had cracked when it hit the rock, and nobody could tell at the ledge whether the video had saved anything or how clear it was.
Alan said what he saw: Dana with the phone, Dana blocking him, Dana diving for the device after he mentioned the knife.
Dana cried harder and said Alan was in shock.
Noah, pale and hiccupping, only said, “Mom had the little silver thing.”
Dana clasped her hands to her mouth and told the deputy he meant her nail file.
By sunset Emily was in a Grand Junction emergency room with a fractured ankle, a separated shoulder, bruised ribs, and rope burns on both palms.
Dana stood in the hall telling hospital staff that teenage girls could be “so dramatic after adrenaline.”
Alan sat inside with Noah asleep against his side.
He still had Dana’s broken phone in a paper evidence bag the deputy had left for later review.
Emily turned her face toward him.
“Do you believe me?”
Alan didn’t answer right away.
That pause hurt worse than the fall.
Finally he said, “I believe something is wrong.”
Emily looked at the ceiling.
May you like
She already knew that.
The question that mattered now was whether anyone would believe how wrong it really was—and why her mother had been ready for the story before Emily had even been hauled back onto solid ground.
