by Lisa Gardner
Scott stares at me from across the fire. “Julianna dropped out for a semester her sophomore year,” he says quietly. “She was pregnant. Ended up getting an abortion. She never told anyone, including Josh, who the father was.”
My eyes grow wide. I glance at Martin, who appears equally stunned.
“Are you saying”—Martin speaks up slowly—“that Tim got Josh’s sister pregnant?”
“Tim never said anything at the time,” Miguel says, “not even when Josh was going out of his mind over what had happened. His parents took the news hard. They didn’t approve of abortion, but they also didn’t want their daughter dropping out of college. It was a big mess. Josh spent the first half of senior year trying to console his parents one moment, then support his sister the next. He personally drove his sister to the clinic, held her hand while what was done was done. Afterwards, he shut himself up inside his room, didn’t emerge for a week. We were all wondering if we should start sliding food under the door when he finally stepped out. Looked like hell. He never brought up the subject again, so neither did we, but then, that was Josh for you. Still waters run deep.”
“Tim never came clean?” I push.
“Never.” Scott this time. “He was all ‘Let me help you with this, Josh; hey, I can take care of that, Josh. Here are my notes for the exam. Don’t worry about the latest homework.’ Maybe he was too nice? But then, Tim was the guy who stepped up when you needed him most. Gave you a home away from home for the holidays—”
“Planned your sister’s funeral,” Neil murmurs.
“Loaned me a thousand bucks to fix my car.” Miggy’s turn.
“None of us suspected a thing.”
“I don’t understand,” Martin says, but I can tell by the bleakness in his tone that he does.
“We never should’ve opened the Maker’s Mark,” Scott mutters thickly.
“Tim never should’ve opened his damn mouth!” Miguel states more angrily. “Seriously. Ten years later, he magically wants to come clean? Repent his youthful indiscretions? Walk down the aisle with a clear conscience? Did he think about Josh for one second? How Josh would react to learning his best friend had not only gone behind his back and screwed his sister, but had also gotten her pregnant, and never said a word? Of course Josh lost his shit.”
“Tim apologized for his past wrongs against each of you,” I say slowly. “Most of which you already knew, so whatever. Until he got to Josh. Who had no idea about Tim and his sister. What did Josh do?”
“What did Josh do?” Miguel asks incredulously. “What do you think he did? He tried to kill Tim with his bare hands.”
CHAPTER 22
Josh launched himself at Tim,” Miggy continues. “Knocked him to the ground and beat the living shit out of him. Took the three of us to drag him off, though we weren’t exactly moving that quickly on our feet.”
“So damn drunk,” Neil whimpers.
“Tim was taken aback,” Scott provides tightly. “He thought Josh would be mad, but not like that. Water under the bridge, he’d figured.”
“Josh slugged him again,” says Miguel.
“And then it got ugly,” Neil murmurs.
“Then it got ugly?” I’m officially flabbergasted. Martin moans in distress.
“It all came pouring out,” Scott says. “Saint Timothy. The way he’d take and we’d forgive. He could steal jobs and girlfriends and, hell, date the one person his best friend asked him not to. Then smile, shrug, and move on.”
“We ended up screaming and yelling. I don’t even remember . . .” Miguel, holding his head as if still pained by the memory. “Josh said he was done. His and Tim’s friendship was over.”
“I might’ve said something similar.” Scott, looking at the ground.
“Basically,” Miguel says, “we quit.”
“You brawled with my son?” Martin, still sounding completely stunned. “You all . . . quit as groomsmen?”
“Drunk. So damn drunk.” Neil again.
“What happened?” Nemeth speaking up for the first time.
“Tim grabbed his pack. Stormed off into the woods.”
“Which direction?” Nemeth stares at Scott.
“Back the way we came. We didn’t think about it. We just . . . weren’t thinking.”
“We went to bed,” Miguel says. “We knew we were drunk and stupid. So we crawled into our tents.”
“Except for Josh,” Scott interrupts. “He was still sitting by the fire.”
“That’s right.” Neil nods. “The rest . . . it wasn’t so far off from what we later said. There was a terrible noise.”
“Some kind of animal,” Miguel chimes in, shivering.
“And Scott had disappeared.”
“I still don’t know why,” Scott offers. “Sleepwalking, I guess.”
Miggy picks up the story. “By the time it was morning, Scott was still missing and Tim hadn’t returned. We didn’t know what to do. So Neil, Josh, and I grabbed our packs and hightailed it for civilization. We fully expected we’d either pass Tim sleeping somewhere along the trail or meet up in town. But then we got to the ATVs and realized his was still parked there . . . We started to freak out. This was bad, really bad.”
“Who came up with the idea of saying Tim had set out to get help for Scott?” I ask.
Neil, Miguel, and Scott exchange glances. “The story just kind of evolved,” Miguel says vaguely.
I roll my eyes at them, protecting one another to the bitter end. “It was Josh, right? He didn’t want others to know he’d punched out his now missing friend. You were all more worried about Tim than Scott. Why, because you guys had beat up Tim?”
“Josh didn’t hit him that hard,” Miguel grumbled. “But . . . we were just plain scared. Tim had taken off and was now God knows where. Scott had disappeared around the same time as those terrible animal sounds. We needed help. And we thought . . . we thought if we admitted what we’d done, people would be less likely to want to search.”
“We always step up.” Nemeth frowns at them. “Even when the lost are idiots, we still commit to finding them.”
Martin steps closer to the fire, peering hard at the three men. “You lied about the happy evening.”
As a unit, they nod.
“You lied about why Tim left.”
More nods.
“But he headed back toward the main trail. You’re sure of it?”
A slight hesitation. Miguel nods.
“Did he have his headlamp on? Windbreaker, pack full of gear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Martin swings his gaze to Scott. “You really wandered off in your sleep? You honestly don’t remember anything after that?”
“I truly don’t. I wish I did. You have no idea—”
“Shut up.” Martin raises a hand. “You understand what your lies cost the original search efforts? We thought we were looking for an experienced hiker in a sound frame of mind. Not a half-drunk and injured young man stumbling around in the dark. Every minute matters in a rescue operation and you cost us years.”
Neil, Scott, and Miguel don’t say a word.
“Did you know?” I ask Martin.
“About what?”
“About what really transpired that night?”
“Hell no. If I did, I would’ve taken that into account when planning my own search efforts. And maybe have had success.” He glowers at the former groomsmen again.
Good point. I can’t see Martin sabotaging his own expeditions just to cover up his knowledge of their lie.
“Who have you told?” I address the trio in general. Because someone must know. Hence the food tampering, Neil’s bashed skull. Not to mention the sense of being watched. That we’re here, but we are not alone.
Scott finally raises a hand. “I told Latisha. Everything. Before we got married. I felt
I had to.”
“So you’re a better husband than friend,” Martin comments bitterly.
Scott returns the man’s stare. “I wasn’t that bad a friend. I’d never blamed Tim for Latisha. And once we all sobered up, I’m sure we would’ve sorted this out, too. Maybe not Josh and him, but . . .” Scott shakes his head. “But the rest of us . . . Tim wasn’t the only one who could be an asshole, not to mention, most of his ‘sins’ happened when we were young and stupid. He’d grown up since then. I liked to think we all had.”
Except Tim hadn’t made it out of the woods and they hadn’t told the truth and now, five years later, they were still living with the guilt.
“How did Latisha take the news?” I ask Scott, very curious about this woman who’d captivated three different friends.
“She understood. She forgave. Some people know how to do that.” Scott’s turn to glare at Martin.
“You two tell anyone?” I look at Miggy and Neil. Both shake their heads. Which leaves us with: “What about Josh?”
“Don’t know,” Miggy provides. “He’s pretty much gone his own way since.”
Clearly, Josh’s path involved a lot of drinking. Which is worth considering. Drunks talk.
“This changes nothing,” Martin states finally. “Either way, Tim vanished in these mountains. And now, for the first time, we’ve discovered signs of his passage. Nemeth says your dog picked up scent near the cave.” Martin regards Luciana.
“Daisy picked up a trail, but I can’t say of what, given we weren’t able to trace it back.”
“Tomorrow, then.” Martin’s tone is firm. “We’ll head back to the cliff. Give ourselves plenty of time to search.”
“Daisy are I are leaving in the morning.” Luciana’s voice is equally resolute. “This isn’t what I signed up for. I need to put myself and my dog’s safety first.”
“Now, wait a second—”
Luciana doesn’t let Martin finish. “He needs real medical assistance.” She points at Neil, then changes her focus to Nemeth. “When I get down, I’ll notify the sheriff. There’s plenty of places to land a chopper in this canyon. They can medevac him out.”
Nemeth nods.
Martin gets flustered. “Just wait. No need to make any decisions right now. It’s been a long day; we could all use some rest.”
Nemeth is looking at me. “Are you going with her?”
“No.”
“No one should be hiking alone, especially on backcountry trails.” He turns to Bob. “You?”
“I’ll stay.” His gaze slides to Martin as if for confirmation. What is the deal with them? Five-thousand-dollar donation to the Bigfoot Society, my ass.
“We’ll stay with Neil.” Miggy and Scott speak up without being asked. “We learned our lesson about leaving a man behind. We’re not making that mistake again.”
Nemeth nods, purses his lips, clearly still moving the players around in his head. I understand him wanting someone to go with Luciana. I even have an idea on the subject. But I’m already guessing Nemeth is the kind of guy who likes to arrive at solutions on his own.
“Let’s sleep on it,” Nemeth says at last. He stands, stretches out. “You two, take turns monitoring him. Wake him up every hour.” Miggy and Scott nod.
“Keep your eyes out,” I add. “For anything moving in these woods, sounds that don’t belong. Something else is going on here.”
Everyone glances at Nemeth, who slowly but surely nods. “These aren’t the woods I know,” he says.
Luciana climbs to her feet, Daisy appearing happy to be moving.
I follow them to our tents.
“I’ll touch base with you in the morning,” Luciana says, “in case you change your mind.”
“How long before this chopper arrives?”
“It’s a solid eight-hour hike out, given the terrain. Then Daisy and I will need to hitch a ride to town, contact the sheriff. Depending on chopper availability . . .” She wags her head, considering. “My guess, as early as tomorrow evening or as late as the following morning.”
“Roughly twenty-four hours,” I murmur. I’d like to think I can survive anything for twenty-four hours. “Sleep tight,” I tell her.
“You, too.”
But we both know that’s not going to happen.
* * *
—
When I finally tumble into sleep, it is a train wreck of old fears and new anxieties. I’m stumbling through a pile of bones, struggling to climb out while skeletal hand after skeletal hand latches onto my ankles.
I can hear the bones whispering in glee. I belong to them. This is my home. Then I’m staring at a grinning new skull as Timothy O’Day pulls me into his bony embrace.
* * *
—
I jerk awake, breathing hard. First I check that my knife is still tucked under my pillow. Then I take a long sip of water. Finally, I realize the walls of my tent have brightened with daylight. I’ve never been so grateful to get up.
I unzip my tent and climb out to discover three things at once:
Neil is still alive.
Luciana is packing up her tent.
And our remaining food is gone.
CHAPTER 23
You didn’t hear anything? You didn’t see anything? Are you sure one of you stayed awake all night long? You didn’t doze off, abandon your duties?” Martin is practically foaming at the mouth as he drills Scott and Miggy.
Both men shrink back. It’s already clear that whatever they say, Martin won’t believe them. Martin swings away, pacing furiously in front of the fire.
“Goddammit!” he explodes at last.
“We need to leave.” Nemeth, the voice of reason. “Remember, most injuries occur on the way down. We can’t afford to be too weak or hungry given the hike out of here.”
Scott and Miggy exchange glances. Miggy must lose the bet, because he grimaces, then raises a tentative hand. “I don’t think Neil can do it. Look at him.”
We all turn our attention to Neil. He’s awake, kind of. His face is drawn and pale, his eyes squinted tight against the onslaught of sunlight. If I had to guess, on a scale of one to ten his headache currently scores an eleven. Miggy’s right. No way Neil’s going to manage a grueling all-day hike over rough terrain and down treacherous descents.
“We’ll wait with him.” Scott this time, still desperate to make up for past mistakes. “You guys can go. I still have some PowerBars and granola in my pack. It’s enough to make do if there’s just three of us.”
Miguel speaks up. “I’ve got some snacks as well.”
Which makes Nemeth grimace: So much for his speech on basic bear safety. But thank God we’re all poor listeners or we’d be completely screwed.
“We can manage till you guys reach town and arrange for a chopper,” Scott continues.
Martin’s already shaking his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re going to stay with Neil—” Nemeth starts.
“I’m not babysitting. I don’t care what the rest of you do. But I’m going back to the cliff face. Tim was there, I know it. Like hell I’m giving up now.”
“You’re willing to risk your life and the lives of others for the sake of someone who is already dead?” Nemeth growls.
“He’s my son!”
“What about your wife? She needs you, too.”
Martin thins his lips. For the first time, his anger breaks. Beneath it is something far more awful to see. “I can’t help her anymore,” he whispers.
Nemeth frowns.
“She’s reaching the end. She and I both know it. It’s just a matter of time now.”
None of us know what to say. Even Nemeth is clearly shocked. He recovers first. “Patrice is dying, and you’re a thousand miles away in the woods?”
“Yes! And this is exactly where she
wants me to be, fulfilling her dying wish! You think I don’t want it to be otherwise? That I haven’t begged God to take me instead? But in case you haven’t been paying attention, God isn’t listening to me these days. Or maybe he listened too well the first time around, when I promised him anything if he’d just let my wife live. But I didn’t mean my son. I never meant our son.” Martin’s voice breaks. He whirls away from us angrily, stalking back several steps.
It all makes more sense to me now, Martin’s relentless drive over these past few days. All obsession comes from pain, but Martin’s anguish isn’t just the five-year-old grief over losing his son, it’s his current agony over losing his wife. Where there was once a family of three, soon there will be only one.
“I’m staying,” Martin repeats, his back still to us.
“If he’s continuing his search, then we still need to take care of Neil,” says Scott.
Nemeth turns to Bob. “Then you go with Luciana and Frankie. Get back to town, contact Sheriff Jim Kelley. He’ll know what to do.”
Bob sighs, a massive rumble in his chest. “I can’t.”
“What the hell—”
“I only take orders from my boss. And that’s him.” Bob points to Martin. And finally I get it. What I’d been missing all along.
“You’re no biology teacher in real life!” I sputter. “You’re a private investigator, aren’t you? Wait, who brings his own PI on a wilderness hike? Unless . . . Oh shit! You two, start talking. Now!”
* * *
—
Martin’s still not in a speaking mood, but he nods at Bob to do the honors. He reveals that Martin hired him a few months ago, after a string of disturbing incidents.
“First, his house was broken into. These things happen.” Bob shrugs. “But it’s not so common for the thieves to take mostly sporting goods equipment, including camping gear.”
Martin’s pack is in excellent shape. I’d figured he owned top-of-the-line products, given his passion. I didn’t realize the piece is also brand-new.
