One Step Too Far(Frankie Elkin #2)(57)

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.