One Step Too Far (Frankie Elkin #2)(102)

I find Nemeth first. Marge Santi occupies the chair next to his bed, holding his hand. Of course. It was clear to me even from our brief interactions earlier that Marge was Nemeth’s other half. Like calls to like, and these two seemed not just a logical pairing, but a natural fit.

I don’t want to intrude. Marge is totally, completely fixated on Nemeth, as if she can single-handedly fix his wounds, will him to survive. I don’t want to interrupt that kind of magical thinking and I’m not sure what to say anyway. Half of Nemeth seems to be covered in bandages, the other half hooked to machines. Luciana is right—it doesn’t look good.

In the end, I offer up a mental salute. I’m not sure Nemeth ever liked me, but by the end he respected me. And if I was little more than a grunt on our expedition, well, he was one helluva general.

I discover Scott next. Compared to Nemeth, he’s the picture of health. Except, of course, for the deathly pallor and the look on Neil’s face as he sits curled up in a chair at the foot of the bed.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” I ask Neil sharply.

“Shhh.” He turns his face toward me, his eyes scrunched tightly shut. Against the glaring light and nearly glowing white walls, I assume. I can barely handle it, and I haven’t had my brains scrambled twice in twenty-four hours.

“How is he?” I ask more quietly.

“He kept me warm,” Neil murmurs solemnly, his eyes still closed. “When night came, he folded himself around me. He said I could make it. Just wait, help would come. He didn’t say the same about himself.”

“But he did make it. You, too.”

“Frankie? I never want to go into those mountains ever again.”

“Okay.”

“I want Scott to be better and Miguel to regain his health and Nemeth to recover. Then I want to go home to Anna, slip a ring on her finger, and never look back.”

“Okay.”

“Would you come to my wedding?”

“I will think of you on your wedding day,” I promise him.

“I’ve decided not to wear a tux.”

“Excellent.”

“And there will be no groomsmen or bridesmaids. We’ll do it our way.”

“Perfect.”

“That man, Martin really killed him?”

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Good,” Neil says fiercely. “Really fucking good.”

I smile. “The police are going to need your help,” I inform him gently. “With Martin’s body and, eventually, with Tim’s.”

“Okay.” No hesitation at all, just as I thought.

“Do you need anything more?” I ask him.

“For Scott to open his eyes. For Miguel to breathe on his own.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

I stay with him a bit longer. Then I find a nurse who assures me I can sign out, but I definitely don’t want my old clothes back, not to mention the police seized them all as evidence.

An hour later, I’m sitting in a rental car with Luciana at the wheel and Daisy grinning from the back seat. Luciana has brought me a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes, items from my suitcase, which she must have commandeered. I had no idea I could be so grateful to be reunited with my meager belongings.

It’s bright and sunny outside. I find that disorienting. It should be nighttime, but maybe that’s just my mood. And so many people, milling about the parking lot, climbing into their vehicles. The world, still turning, as if nothing happened. As if eight people hadn’t gone into the woods, but not all eight of them made it out again.

Luciana takes me straight to a hamburger joint. We order everything. Cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes. Even Daisy has her own meal. I find myself nearly in tears over the concept of pulling up to a window and being handed hot food. If I ever do settle down, pick a residence, I’m gonna install one of these. Definitely.

After stuffing our faces—we eat at the same speed as Daisy, and I take pride in finishing first—we drive the hour back to Ramsey in near silence. The food resolved the first issue, leading to the second—bone-deep exhaustion.

Luciana leads me to the motel room. Same as before. Two double beds and simple adjoining bathroom that features hot water and indoor plumbing. Paradise.

Against the far wall sits an entire pile of backpacks.

“The search teams have been bringing them in,” she tells me, following my line of sight. “No one was sure what to do with them, so I took over. When Miguel, Scott, Neil, and Nemeth get discharged from the hospital, I’ll reunite them with their gear.”

I nod, spying my own, or really Josh’s. There’s blood streaked on the outside. I don’t look at the backpacks anymore.

“Shower,” Luciana informs me. “Sleep. Drink tons and tons of water. Daisy and I have a SAR team debriefing. We’ll be back shortly.”

She hands me a key, stifling a yawn. Then she and Daisy backtrack to their car, leaving me alone.

I step into the bathroom. I shed my clothes and turn the shower on as hot as it can possibly get.

Then I climb feebly over the lip of the tub. I turn my face straight up into the needling spray. It stings my bruised and battered cheek but I don’t care. I will the water to cleanse my body. Erase my mind. Free my soul.

But I won’t forget. I never do. I just head for the next town.