It was Mitch who found the girl. Iād stopped at a cemetery on the ChicagoāEvanston border to let him and Peppy stretch their legs, and he took off. I ran after him, but Iād left the dogs in the car too long: Mitch was out to prove I wasnāt the boss of him. Cars swerved, honked, brakes squealed as he bolted across Sheridan Road and disappeared down a boulder-covered hill to the lake.
Somehow I hung on to Peppyās leash as she chased him. We crossed the road without being hit, but almost toppled a cyclist on the other side.
I peered anxiously down the rocky hillside, trying to see Mitch, but heād vanished. He still had his leash on, at risk for a broken leg or worse if it caught on an outcropping. There were too many crevices in the rocks and concrete blocks the city had dropped there. I called to him, strained to hear a bark or a cry, but the lake was crashing into the rocks in front of me; cars on Sheridan kept up a steady roar behind me.
Peppy was still straining to follow Mitch. I unhooked her leash so sheād find him for me. She began sliding and clawing her way down the wet rocks and stopped at a spot about twenty feet below me.
A strong spring wind was slamming waves onto the shore, sending spray high enough to wet my legs as I backed down, crablike, holding on to the rocks to keep from sliding into the froth.
When I finally reached Peppy, she was barking at Mitchās hindquarters. His head and shoulders were wedged between two boulders. I shoved her out of my way and pulled Mitch out. I managed to muscle in front of him and stick my own head into the narrow opening. He was whining, even snapping at my ankles in his desperation to get back in.
I shone my phoneās flashlight inside the opening. Iād been expecting some dead, rotting animal, but it was a girl. Young, wearing a thin T-shirt that revealed small breasts. I slid forward, put my fingers on her neck, felt a faint pulse.
I backed out. Mitch instantly ran in again, Peppy slithering in next to him. I tried calling 911 but couldnāt get a signal down there. It would be impossible for me to force the dogs up the rocks, not when they had a mission and I was in slip-sliding shoes. I left them and worked my way back up to the edge of the road and called 911.
A squad car appeared almost instantly. The driver got out and demanded an ID.
āA girl is stuck in the rocks down there. She needs helpāI canāt manageāā
āI got a complaint about a lady and her dogs. You canāt let them run around off-leash. Letās see some ID.ā
āPlease! Look! Thereās a girl trapped down there. I came up to call for help. She needs an emergency crew with ropes and a stretcher!ā
He pressed his lips together, called into his lapel phone that he was investigating a possible emergency. He came to the barrier between the road and the rocks, gripping my arm, but he looked down and saw Mitchās tail. Peppy was smaller; she must have squirmed in front of him.
āThat your dog?ā
āThe girl is barely alive,ā I said, frantic. āPlease! You can see for yourself if you climb down.ā
He looked sourly at the rocks but was saved by his phone. He exchanged a few sentences, then turned to me. āSomeone called in a complaint from the high-rise there.ā He jerked his head at a building on the other side of the road. āSaid a woman was taking her dogs down the rocks here. I guess that was you. Can you call the dogs, get them to come up?ā
āThey wonāt leave the girl and Iām not strong enough to carry them up these boulders.ā
He looked over the side again, communed again with his lapel phone. āWeāre locating a rescue team, but if this is a false alarm, itās a class four felony.ā
āItās not a false alarm,ā I said through thin lips. āHow long until they get here?ā
āFifteen, twenty minutes. You go down and leash up those dogs. You cannot let them run wild in the park.ā
I maneuvered my way back down the rocks. I attached the dogsā leashes to their harnesses and managed to hook the ends around a crack in a neighboring rock so that I could check on the girl. There was a faint fluttering in her neck pulses.
Her face still had some of the softness of childhood. I thought she had fresh welts on her cheeks, but they were so grimy, I wasnāt sure. I was wearing a new jacket, red basket weave, not cheap, but I draped it across her front, tucking the sleeves behind her shoulders.
āItās okay, baby,ā I crooned. āHelp is on the way. Hang on. Weāll keep you warm and get you safe.ā
I took some pictures. When the flash went off in her face, her eyes fluttered open. āNagyi?ā she asked, and then repeated, āNagyi,ā with a little sighārelief, it sounded likeāand closed her eyes again.
My phoneās light showed holes in her jeans, the edges scorched. They were caused by fire, not scissors. Pus was oozing from her wounds. An extreme form of self-mutilation, or a hideous form of torture. Either way, she needed medical attention.
Mitch and Peppy were pawing at my legs, desperate to return to the girl. I scooted out of the opening and let them go in. Perhaps not hygienic, but they would keep her warmer than I could.
It was almost half an hour before the rescue team appeared. They dropped ropes and jumped down to meet us. They pulled the dogs out, handed the leashes to me. Keeping them away from the rescuers took my last bit of strength.
āShe has burns on her legs,ā I warned the rescue team. āMaybe on her face, too.ā
The team moved quickly. They set up a rope sledge and slid the girl out, wrapped her in blankets, and strapped her shoulders and hips in place.
āSheās still alive, isnāt she?ā I asked.
āBarely.ā The speaker didnāt look up from the stretcher. āGood thing you and your pooches came when you did.ā She and her partner tugged on their ropes to let the team above know they were climbing back up.
The dogs were frantic as the crew took the girl away. They barked and strained at their leashes, desperate to get to the girl. I went on my hands and knees, still clutching the leashesāMitch and Peppy could easily jump the barrier between rocks and road and fling themselves into traffic in an effort to reach the girl. I held them until I heard the siren above me signal that the ambulance was taking off.
When we emerged at the top, my legs were shaking and the skin of my palms was rubbed raw. I leaned against a tree to catch my breath. Now that the rescue had succeeded, I felt the cold. My clothes were damp from the spray, and I was wishing Iād grabbed my jacket before the EMTs wrapped the girl in their blankets.
The cop whoād arrived first was still there, directing traffic around a series of TV vans. Of course. Newsrooms monitor police frequencies and show up, eager for gore.
Beth Blacksin was there from Global Entertainment. āVic! When I looked over the edge, I was sure that was you down there with your dogs. What happened? What can you tell us about the girl they brought up? Is it true she was in a cave? We tried to get our GlobalCam in play, but it crashed into the rocks.ā
āGlobalCam?ā I echoed.
āOur camera drone. Costs a fortune. Theyāre going to try to find it.ā
āWhat, the CPDās rescue team will rappel down for you?ā
āNo, we have some divers.ā
āOn the payroll just to rescue errant drones?ā I asked.
āOh, Vic, youāre so literal-minded. We have a couple of guys in production who scuba dive for fun. Theyāll take care of it. I hopeāI didnāt exactly have permission to authorize the launch, but it would have made great footage.ā
I bit back another snarky retort. I was wet to the bone, my clothes were covered in dirt and whatever slime grew on the rocks, the heel had come loose from my right shoe, and my car was at least a mile away. I would play nice in exchange for a lift in the Global news van.
Beth agreed, if I gave her an exclusive. We spoke with the wind whipping our hair into our faces and the camera getting nice footage of the waves and the spray. Also of the dogs, who were whining loudly.
āMost Chicagoans know V.I. Warshawski as the go-to detective when life or the law have trapped them between a hard place and a rock. Today she found someone trapped literally in a hard place in the rocks. V.I., we watched the Chicago Police search and rescue team bring a teenage girl up on a stretcher. We understand they got her out, probably in the nick of time, thanks to you. Tell us how you came upon herāno sane person would climb these rocks for fun.ā
I stepped her through Mitch and Peppyās heroic work, omitting the fact that Mitch was a hero because Iād lost control of him.
āAnd you know this girl?ā
āI never saw her before,ā I said. āThe rescue team said sheās alive, barely. Iām sure her parents must be scared sick. Did you get a picture of her face to put out on your site?ā
The cameraman gave a thumbs-up for that. Beth had him take more footage of Mitch and Peppy, some B-roll of the lake and the rocks, and then the heroic dogs were bundled into the vanāwhich had global mobal etched on the sideāand the crew drove us into Evanston to my car.
I didnāt tell Beth about the burn holes in the girlās jeans or the strange word sheād said. I didnāt say I hadnāt seen signs of food or water. Nor did I add my biggest question: Had the girl been seeking refuge, or had she crawled down the rocks to die?
