Page 12 of One Step Too Far

“The news, which is what brought me here. Or online forums, such as the one where I met Bob. There are entire websites dedicated to bringing attention to such cases.”

“You don’t know any of these victims? Have any personal connection to the families?”

“You never met Timothy O’Day. You’re volunteering your time.”

Nemeth frowns, studies the brown carpet.

“I led that operation,” he says at last. “I didn’t bring Tim home. His fate is still my responsibility.”

“What about the other missing people?”

He glances at me in surprise. “You already gossiping with the locals?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Do you know how big the Popo Agie Wilderness is?”

“I’m going with large.”

“Try fucking huge.”

“I like you more and more.”

“We have woods, mountains, streams, lakes, gullies, cliff faces, wild animals, not to mention some man-eating carnivores—”

“Bigfoot?”

“This is nature,” he says. “Raw. Powerful. Vast. Over a hundred thousand acres. Simple matter of statistics, not all will make it out alive.”

“How very Hunger Games of you.”

“Practical. Man can progress as much as we want. Mother Nature still owns our ass.”

“What are your thoughts on chocolate? I feel like you could use more decadence in your life.”

“You’re not qualified for this search party. Do us all a favor and bow out now.”

I take a moment. I can be too cavalier. I can be a total bitch. But I can also be honest, and I think Nemeth deserves that much.

“I’m not as experienced with camping as you would like. But I’m healthier than Josh and I have decent boots and great socks. If you can get me a pack that fits, I can do this. I won’t complain, I won’t slow you down, and I can help. I don’t know why, but finding the missing? I’m good at it. I just am.”

“You’re damn stubborn.”

I smile. “Thank heavens, right? Otherwise, how would those other sixteen people have ever made it home?” I return my attention to Josh’s pack, pulling out more clothes, pants, long johns, items that definitely won’t fit me.

“Martin O’Day.” I return to our previous conversation. “Grieving father, experienced hiker. You like him? Trust him?”

“I do.”

“Which brings us to the bachelor party buddies. What do you think of them?”

“Decent enough young men. Screwed up, paid the price. Are still paying the price.”

“What exactly was their screwup? Drinking?”

That shrug again. “I’ve been a guide long enough to know most camping parties are carrying more booze than water. Drinking happens. Stupid but rarely deadly. Now, splitting up, on the other hand, losing track of each other—”

“Leaving a man behind?”

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