Backwoods

by Jill Sorenson

  “I read about that,” Abby said. “It was a couple. The girl is still missing.”

  “Maybe she killed him,” Leo said.

  “Ooh,” Brooke said with approval. “Spooky.”

  Nathan caught Abby’s exasperated look. Kids.

  “How many days will we be gone?” Abby asked.

  “Four or five at the most,” Brooke said. “But we’ll be near water the whole time. You don’t have to worry about being dirty.”

  Abby made a noncommittal sound.

  “She’s kind of a neat freak,” Brooke explained to Nathan and Leo.

  “I’m a fan of regular showers, myself,” Leo said.

  Brooke wrinkled her nose at Leo’s lame joke and they both laughed. Nathan wasn’t sure what to think of them. He hardly remembered being a teenager. When he was Leo’s age, he’d been a professional baseball player, married with a kid on the way. These two weren’t children, but he couldn’t see them as adults.

  “Is it settled?” Nathan asked Abby.

  “My dad had all of the supplies delivered,” Brooke said, leaping to her feet. “If we pack up our gear tonight, we can get an early start tomorrow.”

  Leo groaned at her enthusiasm, but Brooke couldn’t be dissuaded. Denying her was like trying to stop the sunrise.

  “What do you say?” she asked, arms spread wide.

  “Okay,” Abby said, giving in.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ABBY WOKE BEFORE DAWN.

  She reached for her cell phone and noted the time. Her alarm would ring in ten minutes. Turning it off, she scooted away from Brooke and climbed out of bed. Nathan and Leo had taken the other two bedrooms, so she and Brooke had shared.

  Last night, Brooke had organized all of the supplies they needed. Two small tents, four sleeping bags, four mats. Miscellaneous food items and dried meal packages. A bear canister, water filter, flashlight, first-aid kit. Toiletries and cooking utensils.

  Brooke was a ruthless minimalist. She wouldn’t allow Abby to bring any makeup or unnecessary clothes, claiming she’d regret every extra ounce. As a result, the packs weighed less than ten pounds each.

  Abby put on the clothes she’d laid out the night before. They’d be stopping at the lake before they reached camp, so she started with her swimsuit, a sporty blue two-piece. Over that, she pulled on basic running shorts and a gray tank top. Her anklet socks and black hiking shoes completed the look.

  After brushing her teeth and pulling her hair into a ponytail, she studied her appearance. Devoid of makeup, her face looked plain and bare. She saw smudges under her eyes, pale lips, freckles and crow’s feet.

  Tiptoeing toward her beauty case, she unfastened the latch.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Brooke mumbled.

  “What?”

  She rolled over in bed and squinted at Abby. “Your makeup will wash off when you swim.”

  “I’ll keep my head above water.”

  “What about tomorrow? I’m not carrying that stuff for you.”

  Abby would give up a couple of meals for her MAC case. Just a little mascara, some lip gloss, a bit of concealer...

  “You don’t need it.”

  That was easy for Brooke to say; she didn’t need any. She had a smooth, even complexion. Her skin tanned easily. Although her hair was blond, like Abby’s, her brows and lashes were dark.

  Brooke propped her head on her hand. “What do you think of Leo’s dad?”

  “He’s very nice.”

  “Nice?”

  Abby glanced at the closed door, hoping Nathan couldn’t hear them. They hadn’t talked about this last night. Brooke had stayed up late playing video games with Leo. She’d fallen asleep as soon as she crawled into bed.

  “Leo says he’s single,” Brooke added in a low voice.

  “How would he know? They don’t get along.”

  “Lydia knows.”

  “Don’t embarrass me.”

  With a smile, Brooke threw back the comforter and rose from the bed in her underwear. She was lithe and lean, pantherlike. Sometimes Abby couldn’t believe this fully grown woman had come out of her body.

  Not so long ago, her daughter had been gap-toothed and giggling, wearing a party hat. She’d been a newborn who refused to latch on for the first two weeks, and then a toddler who’d refused to stop when Abby tried to wean her. She’d always been stubborn, prone to outbursts, quick to laugh and full of energy.

  Brooke flipped open the makeup case and rifled through its contents. “Here,” she said, choosing a single item. She tucked the rose-tinted lip moisturizer into Abby’s palm and closed her fingers around it, as if bestowing a precious gift.

  Abby turned to the mirror and applied it, her throat tight.

  Brooke came up behind her. “Do you think I need boobs?” she asked, covering her small breasts with her hands.

  “Absolutely not,” Abby said, appalled. Brooke had a runner’s figure, strong and sleek. “You’re perfect.”

  “I look like a boy.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “No one important.”

  “Good, because it’s ridiculous.”

  “Were you flat, before?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Brooke shook her head.

  Brooke had been twelve when Abby had her breasts done. Too young to notice the flaws Abby had seen so clearly. “I wasn’t flat...I was asymmetrical.”

  “Like, one big boob and one small?” She adjusted her hands over her chest to demonstrate.

  “Yes.” It wasn’t the only reason for her augmentation; Abby’s self-confidence had taken a hit during the divorce. If she hadn’t been such an emotional wreck, she might not have gone under the knife, but she was happy with the results. “You have a lovely figure, very proportional. Besides, large breasts are a pain for sports.”

  “True.”

  “They also seem to attract jerks,” Abby pointed out.

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Although her implants weren’t that obvious, Abby worried about the example she’d set for Brooke. Until now, Brooke had never complained about her shape or acted self-conscious. She certainly wasn’t shy about wearing revealing clothes. Abby wondered what had prompted this conversation. “What are the boys like at Berkeley?”

  Brooke stopped posing in front of the mirror and dropped her hands. She’d steered clear of serious relationships in high school, preferring to concentrate on sports and academics. “They’re hot, rich and smart.”

  It was a succinct summary, delivered with more cynicism than a girl her age should have. Maybe Brooke had some trust issues of her own.

  Thanks, Ray.

  Brooke scooped up a pile of clothes and escaped into the bathroom. Abby hoped her daughter would come to her if she needed someone to talk to. She also wished Brooke had a better male role model. Too often, her father wasn’t there for her.

  With a frown, Abby left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. The soles of her shoes made no sound on the lush carpet. When she exited the hallway, she saw Nathan and almost jumped out of her skin.

  “You scared me,” he said, removing the carafe from the coffeemaker.

  It took her a few seconds to realize he was joking. “I didn’t know you were up.”

  “I was trying to be quiet.”

  He went to the sink and filled the carafe with water, whistling. After transferring the water to the reservoir, he plugged in the machine and turned it on.

  Abby studied him as they waited for the coffee to brew. He was wearing a faded blue Toros T-shirt with tan cargo shorts and brown hiking boots. The clothes fit well on his body, which appeared to be in fantastic shape. She figured he had to be close to forty, but only
his face showed his age. He had thick brown hair, broad shoulders and a trim waist. An outdoor setting would only accentuate his rugged features.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Abby didn’t want to “rough it” with a man this attractive. She was going to be sweaty and anxious and unkempt. The idea of trekking through the woods and leaving civilization behind intimidated her. She didn’t like feeling out of her element, out of control.

  “You must have been a child bride,” he said.

  She’d heard that one before. It was an odd sort of compliment, but she saw no censure in his expression. “And you were twelve when you fathered Leo, right?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I was nineteen. The same age he is now.”

  “Were you more mature than he is?”

  “Maybe, but not by much.”

  She fell silent for a moment, pondering her own teen marriage. At eighteen, she’d thought she was ready to be a wife and mother. She’d wanted her own family more than anything. Ray had been five years older, and on a fast track to a promising career in medicine. They’d skipped the courtship and gone straight to playing house.

  “Was the pregnancy unplanned?” she asked, tentative.

  His brows rose at the personal question. “It’s hard to say that, considering how careless we were with protection. The real surprise was that it didn’t happen sooner.”

  “Did you want to get married?”

  “I did, actually. I had to talk her into it. She had reservations about the amount of time I spent traveling with the team.”

  Abby couldn’t blame her. She imagined a young, beautiful Lydia, taking care of a baby by herself while Nathan “the Storm” Strom hit home runs in front of a roaring crowd. Lydia had gotten the short end of that stick.

  When the coffee was finished brewing, Nathan grabbed a cup and handed it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, disconcerted by his proximity.

  “Isn’t this cozy,” Brooke said as she walked in. She was wearing a red tank top, frayed denim short-shorts and sturdy hiking boots. Her long hair was braided under a baseball cap. “You two should get revenge on Lydia and Dad by hooking up.”

  Abby stepped back from Nathan too quickly and spilled coffee over the rim of her mug. “Brooke!”

  “What?”

  Nathan coughed into his fist, as if covering a laugh. He found another mug on the shelf and busied himself with the coffeemaker. Abby set her cup aside and wiped the floor with a paper towel, her cheeks hot.

  “Coffee?” Nathan offered Brooke.

  “No, thanks.”

  He must have preferred it black, because he left without adding any cream or sugar. “Ladies,” he said, winking at Abby.

  Brooke gave her a triumphant smile.

  Abby opened the refrigerator, half hoping she could crawl inside and die. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Relax. He thought I was joking.”

  Abby took out a carton of soy milk and a jar of orange juice. “Should I make breakfast?”

  “Definitely. Be domestic.”

  Abby rifled through the utensil drawer for a spatula. “You can scramble eggs,” she said, pointing it at Brooke.

  They cooked almost a dozen eggs, along with turkey bacon and wheat toast. Nathan came back for a plate. Leo also roused from his slumber. He was dressed casually in basketball shorts and a T-shirt that said High Life across the front. Nathan’s gaze darkened with irritation when he saw the marijuana logo.

  Abby could cut through the tension between them with a knife. Nathan had said that Leo didn’t like him. It appeared to be true. He was polite to her and Brooke, seemingly indifferent toward his father.

  After breakfast, Leo helped Brooke with the dishes while Nathan walked outside to make business calls on his cell phone. Abby perused the local newspaper, which must have been delivered with the groceries. She found a disturbing story about Echo Lake. A few years ago, a group of teenagers had hiked there for an afternoon swim. When it was time to leave, one of the girls hadn’t returned to shore. Divers searched a portion of the lake but were unable to recover the body. She was presumed drowned.

  Abby read the article out loud to Brooke and Leo. “You’ll have to be careful swimming. There are obstacles in the water. Sunken logs.”

  “We’ll use the buddy system,” Leo said.

  Brooke handed him a plate to dry. “Stop reading that stuff, Mom. You’re going to get all worked up.”

  Abby flipped through the pages with a sigh. Near the back, there was a photo of a smiling young woman hugging a terrier mix. Both were missing. She was last seen at a pet store, buying a leash for the dog.

  Maybe she’d gone hiking.

  Pulse racing, Abby returned to the Echo Lake article and noted the victim’s name. Then she picked up her cell phone and did a quick search for the drowning victim’s name plus the missing girl’s name. They were connected, but only as former residents of Monarch. Both were young, blonde and pretty.

  Curious, Abby looked for more information about missing girls and women in the area. There were dozens of articles about the college student who’d been murdered on the Pacific Crest Trail. He’d been shot in the chest with an arrow from a crossbow. His girlfriend—young, blonde and pretty—had never been found.

  If Abby hadn’t seen the first two women in the same newspaper, she might not have noticed the similarities. She skimmed the other articles for evidence that law enforcement officials were investigating a link between them. They weren’t even trying to find the drowning victim. The woman and the dog could have gone anywhere. Forest rangers and volunteers had combed the woods for the college student’s girlfriend, to no avail.

  What if all three women had fallen prey to a killer?

  Abby didn’t voice this concern out loud. It was far-fetched, she supposed, and Brooke would accuse her of obsessing over nothing, which Abby did often. She continued to browse for clues, mapping the distances between the pet store, hiking trail and lake. They were located within a twenty-mile radius.

  When Brooke clapped her hands for attention, Abby glanced up, startled. Brooke and Leo had finished with the dishes. Nathan had just come back inside with his cell phone. Leo was sitting on the couch, disentangling the cord to his earbuds.

  “I’m calling a family meeting,” Brooke said.

  Leo snorted at the announcement. “We’re not a family.”

  “For the next four days, we are,” she said, gesturing for Abby to join them. “Bring it in, Mom.”

  Nathan sat down on the couch next to Leo. Abby took the space beside Nathan. Brooke’s assertion that they were a family, if only for a few days, made Abby’s chest tighten with an unknown feeling. It was a warm sort of discomfort, like...longing.

  She hazarded a glance at Nathan, whose throat worked as he swallowed. He wasn’t immune to the lure of togetherness, either. He seemed to want to repair his relationship with Leo. Abby understood that desire; her life would be empty without Brooke.

  “Say goodbye to your cell phones,” Brooke said. “They aren’t going to work in the backcountry, anyway.”

  “What about emergencies?” Abby asked.

  “I have one with GPS, just in case. But I’ll keep it turned off to save batteries.”

  Nathan set his phone on the coffee table. “Fine.”

  “I need my music,” Leo said.

  “Don’t you have another player?”

  “Not with me.”

  Abby didn’t want to give up her phone, either. She was ten times as attached to it as her makeup case. Her cell phone was her crutch, her comfort, her only connection to civilization. The last time she’d left it behind, she’d become physically ill. Abby still wasn’t sure if she’d been seasick from kayaking or if crossing open water had triggered an anxiety attack. />
  “I’ll sing you songs by the campfire,” Brooke said, fluttering her lashes.

  “Right,” Leo scoffed, but he couldn’t resist her flirty smile. Shaking his head, he placed his phone on the table.

  Abby had no choice but to follow suit. Nathan was studying her with interest. Stomach churning, she surrendered her cell phone to Brooke. She felt like a police officer being divested of her badge and weapon.

  “Okay,” Brooke said, clasping her hands together. “I want everyone to wear a hat and drink lots of water during the hike. It’s going to be hot out there. I know we’re all at different fitness levels so I’ll try not to go too fast. Don’t be afraid to ask for a break, Mom. Tomorrow will be more difficult if you overexert yourself today.”

  Leo squinted as if her sunny enthusiasm hurt his eyes.

  “Any questions?” Brooke asked.

  “I have one,” Leo said. “How much coffee did you drink this morning?”

  “None, smart-ass. I stay away from mood-altering substances.”

  “You should try that,” Nathan said to Leo.

  Although Leo and Brooke had been joking around, Nathan’s comment was dead serious. And it didn’t go over well.

  “Fuck you,” Leo said, rising from the couch. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  Nathan rubbed a hand over his mouth, not responding to the provocation. He seemed perplexed by Leo’s attitude. Maybe it hadn’t occurred to Nathan that criticizing his son in front of Abby and Brooke would embarrass him.

  Abby felt bad for both of them. Nathan obviously had no idea how to deal with Leo, and she couldn’t blame Leo for acting out. He was a troubled kid from a broken home. His father was a recovering alcoholic, his stepfather was a jerk and his mother had probably faked a sprained ankle to avoid conflict.

  “Chill out, Leo,” Brooke said. “At least your dad is here, making an effort. Mine didn’t even bother to show up.”

  Abby watched a mixture of emotions cross over Leo’s face. He didn’t want to spend time with Nathan. She suspected that he was being forced to by his mother. Otherwise, he’d leave. Brooke was the only highlight of the trip, but he didn’t have a chance with her because of their family connection.