Chapter 45 Caro
CARO
“YOU LOOK LIKE HELL,” Ash says as Caro walks up to her. A hiker going past looks over at them in surprise. They’re at the trailhead at Seraph’s Perch, one of the most famous hikes in Eden—deep in the park, miles away from the Underground and less affected by the flash flooding.
“Thanks a lot,” Caro says, but she and Ash both crack up. “You do, too.”
“I know.” Ash takes a deep breath, and Caro feels like she can read her mind. Enough small talk. “So,” Ash says. “Do you think it’s her?”
They’re here at this trailhead—weary, stressed out, missing Hope, worried about their families, everything unraveling all around them—because of the mystery text last night.
Caro had been with her dad and Dan, finishing up at the hospital and deciding whether she should take Henry back to Lookout Pointe or stay with Dan in his hotel room for the night, when the text came through.
Surprise!
It’s me again.
There’s one more thing I need you to do.
Caro had almost dropped her phone.
Great news—I got you guys a permit for Seraph’s Perch!
! The catch is that the permits are timed.
You have to arrive at Scout Lookout, the point right before the final ascent, at the right time.
Or they’ll turn you back and you won’t get to hike all the way to the viewpoint at the top.
TRUST ME, YOU WANT TO SEE THAT VIEW! That means you’ll need to arrive at the trailhead at around 6:30 a.m. and LEAVE ON TIME.
Don’t wait for me if I’m not there on the dot.
“I don’t know,” Caro says. “But if it’s not—”
“I know,” Ash says. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Between Hope vanishing and her dad going missing and seeing Dan at the hospital last night (he was wonderful, of course he was wonderful, and she still didn’t tell him what he deserves to know), Caro is worn out.
She closes her eyes. “Everything’s falling apart.
” When she opens them, she sees that Ash is looking at her with a worried expression.
“I feel horrible when I’m with my dad because I’m not with you trying to figure out how to find Hope,” Caro says.
“And I feel horrible when I’m here because I’m not with him. ”
“Disappointing everyone,” Ash says, and Caro nods. They’ve talked about this before with Hope—how if you’re a friend or a parent or a wife or a sister or an employee or a boss or a caregiver or, really, a woman in the world at all, you feel like you’re constantly failing everyone all the time.
Another hiker walking past looks over at them in concern, and Caro sees recognition dawn on their face. They know who we are. Damn it. They don’t need anyone knowing that Hope Hanover’s friends are on this hike.
Caro checks her watch. It’s 6:35. They need to get going. They should have left by now. They’re both in good shape, but this is a steep climb—they’ll gain roughly two thousand feet in elevation over a couple of miles, and then they’ll need to hike back.
She glances down at the text.
The park rangers WILL ASK to see your hard copy of the permit.
They can ask for it at any time during the hike and they’ll for sure ask to see it at Scout Lookout.
I left your permit at the Sonnet front desk.
Ask for it there. The permit is in Ash’s name in case I can’t make it.
I hope you don’t mind, Ash. Make sure you bring your ID. You’ll need that too.
PLEASE do this for me! xx
“Are you okay?” Ash wraps an arm around Caro. “Are you sure about this?”
Caro shrugs, fiercely blinking back tears. “We have to follow the texts,” she says. “What if it helps us find Hope? What if it helps us find out—” Her voice breaks.
“What if it’s dangerous?” Ash asks. “I didn’t call the police. Did you?”
“No. They haven’t been very helpful so far.” Caro exhales in frustration. “They can’t seem to find anyone who’s missing.”
“I’ll give them a call right now,” Ash says. “I’ll say we got another message and that we can’t tell if it’s from her.” She lifts her phone and furrows her brow. “Never mind. No coverage. Should we drive back into range and call? Sorry. I should have thought of this sooner. My brain is mush.”
“No,” Caro says. “We’re out of time. We have to go.” They start along the trail together, moving quickly. They pass one cluster of hikers, then another. “Did Hope tell you she was doing this?” Caro asks Ash. “Putting the permit in your name and all of that?”
Ash shakes her head. “Maybe she got a permit for herself, too,” she says hopefully. “Maybe she’s planning on meeting us at the top.”
“These permits are famously impossible to get.” Caro feels a rare twinge of optimism. “That’s what makes me think it might be her,” she says. “Hope Hanover magic.”
Below them, the park shuttle winding its way along the road snaking through the canyon gives out a sigh of exhaust. Under the sound of the footsteps and the noise of fellow hikers in front of and behind them, there are quiet sounds, of birds calling and things moving in the early morning.
The sun hasn’t yet crested over the massive monoliths reaching up around them, so the sky is palest blue, deepest pink, and the colors of the sandstone are rich and ancient.
It’s different from the Underground. Here, they begin on a valley floor, choosing to climb up to the tops of the enormous formations.
They aren’t descending into. They are rising above.
But there is risk either way. The park’s official website has plenty of warnings about how strenuous and dangerous Seraph’s Perch is.
Especially when you reach the saddle and then head up a slippery sandstone path along the thin ridgeline to the viewpoint.
There, the park service has even affixed chains into the sandstone so that hikers can hold on along some of the more precarious parts.
“What if Hope didn’t send this text?” Ash asks softly. “What if it’s our lurker?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Caro scrubs the heels of her hands against her eyes in exhaustion. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“I’ve been reading about Seraph’s Perch online,” Ash says. “People die every year hiking it.”
“Do you think our lurker would bring us here to try to kill us?” Caro asks, stunned.
“I don’t know,” Ash says. “Maybe. Why would Hope send us on a hike without her? Why wouldn’t she just show up and tell us she’s okay?”
“Maybe these are pre-prepared texts,” Caro says. “Like emails you can have automatically sent at certain times?”
“Can you do that with texts?” Ash asks.
“I don’t know,” Caro admits.
They pass a couple holding hands and a group of college-age boys who have stopped to take a drink and look out at the increasingly broadened view. The parking lot already looks small, the cars like toys.
“Hey,” Ash says. She’s as fast as Caro, but her legs are shorter, and every now and then she has to do a few jog-steps to catch up. “I wanted to ask you about this.” She pulls a paper from the back pocket of her shorts and hands it to Caro.
They both keep up the pace as Caro glances down at the postcard Ash has handed her.
Hey Dad,
I was thinking about the Devil’s Backbone Drive and how you and I used to go eat at the grill in Story after. I remembered how they served everything on mismatched china and had fresh rainbow trout on the menu. Do you? Should we try to go there again?
I love you.
Caro
“I found it in the Buick after you left,” Ash says.
There’s a chill to her tone, and at first Caro can’t figure out why—or why Ash has the postcard in the first place. Caro glances down at it again, puzzled, and then she sees.
It’s postmarked. It’s been sent.
Oh. That explains Ash’s coolness. They promised Hope they wouldn’t mail the cards until the trip was over.
But how much does that matter now? Caro can’t keep up with anything anymore, with what might be important and what might not.
“I didn’t mail it,” Caro says. “I swear. Someone else must have sent it.”
“It reveals our location,” Ash says.
“I know,” Caro says. Is this really that big a deal?
Everyone knows where they are now, thanks to the pictures posted all over LikeMe and online—but then she realizes.
For Henry to have received the postcard in the mail—to have had it in the Buick to leave it behind—it would have had to be sent while they were in the Underground, wouldn’t it?
She looks closely at the image. There’s the Sonnet logo in the corner of the photo, superimposed over a picture of the bluffs near the resort.
Yes. It’s certainly her handwriting, and it’s definitely from Sonnet.
Which means that’s how Henry knew where Caro was. It’s her fault he left Lookout Pointe. But how on earth did he get all the way from St. John to Sonnet?
And Caro has another realization.
Oh no.
Did someone send all of her postcards?
Caro stops, fixing her gaze on Ash. “Do you think I’m lying? I swear I didn’t send it.”
Don’t doubt me, she wants to say to Ash. We have to keep on trusting each other for any of this to turn out okay.
Instead, what comes out of Caro’s mouth is, “Do you know where all of your postcards are? When was the last time you saw them?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Ash starts walking again, and now it’s Caro’s turn to jog a few steps to catch up. “I think mine were on my desk in the tent. I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen them since I’ve been in the Airstream.” She exhales. “Does this mean someone was sneaking into our tents?”
Oh no. Even though that’s the obvious connection, Caro’s scrambled brain hadn’t yet made it.
“But why would anyone send them?” she asks Ash.
“What’s the point? Freaking us out because then we’d know someone was in our rooms?
We already knew there was a lurker. Do you think they knew that we knew?
What we were doing?” She can’t seem to stop asking questions.
“How many postcards did you write? What did yours say?”
Ash doesn’t answer the questions. She just keeps hiking, one foot in front of the other on the steep path. Caro can’t believe this. Everything is going so wrong.
“Who do you think sent them?” she asks Ash.
Finally, Ash answers. “You know who it could be,” she says.