Chapter 26 Caro
CARO
ASH STOPS NEAR THE main firepit. “Caro, it’s Spencer.”
Caro spins in the direction Ash is pointing. There, coming out of the main tent, is a man who looks like Spencer, but is it? The walk is right, the frame tracks. Her body recognizes the truth while her brain is still wary of accepting such good news, and she’s running toward him.
“Caro!” he calls out, breaking into a jog, too.
They stop short of embracing each other.
Up close, Spencer looks like Caro imagines she does—he’s clearly cleaned up some from the events in the canyon, but his face is—well, wrecked.
It’s not only the bruises, but the haunted-eyed look of someone who has been through something and has not come out on the other side of it.
“Spencer,” Caro says. What the hell. She throws her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Same,” he says, hugging her back. They pull apart and hold each other at arm’s length.
Caro feels the deep relief of being with someone who has known you for a long time.
She remembers his face; she doesn’t know all the lines, the way she does with Dan, but there’s familiarity there, and it’s very, very welcome.
Spencer glances at Ash, who’s caught up to them. “Is everyone else safe?” He looks worried and Caro realizes she’s feeling the same thing. If he’s alone, does that mean…
“No.” Caro’s throat aches around the word. “Hope’s missing.”
“Oh no,” Spencer says.
“What about your group?”
“Kevin’s okay.” She can see Spencer’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Tony’s missing.”
“I’m so sorry,” Caro’s trying to remember which one’s Tony and which one’s Kevin. Tony had the tattoo. Right? She had them straight earlier. Her brain is exhausted. “What happened?”
“We couldn’t get across the river,” Spencer says. “So we climbed up our side of the canyon as far as we could.” He closes his eyes, opens them, the memory still only hours old. “What did you do?”
“We made it across the river,” Caro says. “We climbed up on the bench. Then Hope fell.” She finds she can’t say much more around the lump in her throat, the ache in her heart. When she says it like that, when she pictures it again, she knows the score.
“We lost Tony in the river,” Spencer says. “I think. It was dark and we couldn’t see a thing. We didn’t have time to grab our headlamps. At some point I realized he had… disappeared.”
“Oh no,” Caro says.
“I feel so guilty,” Spencer says. “Kevin and I were leading out, since we ‘knew’ the hike and Tony hadn’t been down the Underground before—” He breaks into a rough laugh, shakes his head. “As if we knew a damn thing in that situation.”
“I know.” Caro remembers the way the others looked to her. The way they followed. She did something because doing nothing seemed like the best way to die, but what if she’d found a better way? Been more careful? Would Hope still be with them?
“What about Ed and Jean?” she asks, though she thinks she knows.
“We left them.” Spencer’s voice is heavy. “There wasn’t time…”
Caro puts her hand on his arm. “We did the same.”
Spencer exhales. “We were in a bad place in the canyon,” he says. “Our campsites were right where a bunch of flooding came down from the plateau, and the river was swelling from the runoff upstream, too.”
“Do you know anything about the college kids who were farther down from us?” Ash asks. “And the teenagers?”
“They’re all okay,” Spencer says, and Caro’s knees turn to jelly, she’s so relieved.
“I heard the SAR team talking. The college kids didn’t end up camping the second night.
They decided to keep going because they wanted to get back for a party.
” He laughs without any mirth. “In theory, that should have been an insane decision. But it likely saved their lives.”
“Thank heavens,” Ash says.
“Thank heavens,” Spencer agrees. “And the leaders for that group of younger kids knew a higher spot to climb to in the canyon. They had a hell of a night, but nobody died.”
“I’m so glad.” Ash has tears in her eyes.
This is enormously good news. In fact, if Caro was ever inclined to use the word miracle, this is the time. She straightens up. There are still things they have to get done, no matter how unbelievable this all feels. “We need to talk to our families,” she says to Spencer.
“Oh man, you haven’t yet?” He looks surprised. “I’d lend you my phone, but it’s long gone in the canyon. Did yours get ruined, too?”
“They’re in here.” Ash holds up the lockbox.
A quizzical look crosses Spencer’s face, but Caro will explain in the car.
Right now they have to get moving. “We lost the key and we need to go into Spring Creek and find a locksmith,” she says.
“Our cars are up at the trailhead and at the end of the hike, in the opposite direction from Spring Creek, so if we go get one of them we won’t have time to make it into town before things close.
It’s almost five now.” Spring Creek is a small town, and while the restaurants and other tourist spots stay open later, the other businesses shut down at five sharp.
It’s forty-five minutes closer than driving into St. John, and they have to get into that box.
They have to find Hope. Since they can’t be up in the canyon searching, this feels like the next best thing.
“Do you have a car here at Sonnet? Or did you use it for the hike?”
“I’ve got my truck here,” Spencer says. “You’re welcome to take it. You can drive stick, right?”
Caro and Ash both nod. “I probably shouldn’t drive right now,” Ash says. “I’m kind of woozy from the pain meds. Nothing bad, but—”
Caro doesn’t want to admit it, but she feels the same way. And she doesn’t want to take Spencer’s truck and leave him alone after what he’s been through. “Where’s Kevin?” she asks.
“He’s at the rescue site,” Spencer says. “But I’m not family, so they cleared me out of there.”
“Can your truck fit three?” she asks. “Can we all go?”
“Sure,” he says.
Right then the phones start jarring around again in the box, and they all jump.
“Shit,” Spencer says. “What if that’s Hope?”
“I know,” Caro says. “Let’s go.”