One Step Too Far(Frankie Elkin #2)(59)

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.

“Then he got a series of anonymous e-mails, telling him to stay away from Ramsey. The locals didn’t want him there anymore—he was bad for business. Martin first hired me to trace the e-mails. I couldn’t, as they’d been bounced all over global servers. I’ve seen Russian hacking jobs that were less sophisticated. Which seems out of character for a bunch of small-town shop owners.”