Page 52 of Wilderness Search
“I was fifteen when Dad died. I could hardly look after myself, much less you. And I barely remember Mom. You were the one who washed my clothes and nagged me to clean my room and did all the mom stuff.” He shook his head. “It’s wild, when you think about it. You were only, what, nine or ten when she died? And I remember Dad was a mess for a while after that. You were the one who kept us together.”
“Dad looked after us. I just did what I could to help.” She still remembered the panicky feeling of coming home to an empty house, dust on the furniture and nothing waiting for dinner—as if her parents had simply walked out the door and forgotten to return. Forgotten they had two children to care for. She had done what she could to make sure Gary never had that feeling. And when their father had died when she was twenty, she had carried on looking after Gary. He was the only family she had left.
“Be careful,” she said. “It’s rough country out there.”
“If it’s rough for us, imagine what it’s like for a little girl. Let’s hope she’s a tough kid, like you were.” He patted her back and left.
I wasn’t tough, she wanted to tell him.I just didn’t know what else to do.
Maybe it was the same with Olivia. She had been frightened and had run. Now she was just hanging on—for what, Willa didn’t know. She sent a silent message to the girl:Keep fighting.
Aaron was waitingby Willa’s car when she emerged from the clinic that evening. He was exhausted from searching through the Mountain Kingdom camp all day, his uniform dirty from crawling through attics and moving aside boxes in storerooms. He probably had spiderwebs in his hair. It wasn’t the most attractive picture to present a woman, but if he had taken time to shower and change he would have missed Willa. He wanted to see her, to reassure himself she hadn’t changed her mind about him after last night. He didn’t want to pressure her to spend more time with him or to sleep with him again—though he would have welcomed both of those things. He just wanted to see her. To know things were good between them again and that was one less weight to carry.
“Aaron, you look awful,” she said as she approached. “Are you okay?”
“Just tired. I’ll go home in a few minutes and take a shower, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I was worried you were regretting last night.” He searched her face, trying to read her emotions. “I’m not,” he added.
“No, I’m not regretting that.” She moved closer, and touched his shoulder. “You look exhausted. Gary told me you were helping to search the camp. Did you find anything?”
“We didn’t find Olivia, or any sign of her. I don’t think we found anything else, either.”
“I guess it’s good that you didn’t find her body, but how could she have simply disappeared?”
“It’s easier than you might think, out here. Every few years a hiker goes missing. Some are never found.”
“I’ve been learning about that in my search and rescue training. It’s still hard to imagine.” She took a step back. “Go home and rest. Maybe there will be better news tomorrow.”
“I have to be back at the camp tonight. I was hoping you’d come with me.”
“Why?”
“It’s bonfire night. A camp tradition, every Saturday night.”
“Is the public invited?”
“Not usually. But the sheriff told Scott he wanted to put some officers there to see if they could spot anything suspicious. Last Saturday was the night before Olivia went missing—the night when, according to Stella, she saw something that upset her. We’re hoping we’ll spot something to give us a clue what that something might have been.”
“It was also the night Trevor Lawson died, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“You made that connection, too?” He nodded. “Trevor was at the bonfire. He was supposedly fine then, but now I’m really curious to see what goes on at this thing, if it managed to upset two different people. Will you come with me to the bonfire?”
“Are you really supposed to take a date if you’re working?”
“You’ll be another set of eyes. And the kids like you.”
“Did Scott agree to have a civilian there?”
“You’ll be part of my cover. We agreed to come in plainclothes so we don’t upset the kids. The story is, Scott has invited some guests from town. He’s done it before—usually parents or big donors.”
“The campers have seen deputies at the camp all week,” she said. “They’re bound to recognize some of you.”
“Probably. We’ll do our best not to alarm them.”
“All right. I’ll come with you.” She linked her arm with his. “I won’t think of it as a date. I’ll think of it as helping the police with their inquiries.”
