Chapter 47 Ash
ASH
CARO IS STRIDING AWAY down the trail quickly and talking even faster.
“People love this hike,” she says. “Did you know it’s become one of the most LikeMe’d spots in America?
Which is a pain, because everyone knows about it now.
But it is one of the most beautiful places in the world. I’m glad you’ll get to see it.”
There’s something almost manic in the way she’s speaking and moving, and even though Ash knows it’s because of the newly strained feeling between them, she finds it disconcerting.
She knows from looking at the hike online last night that the path is going to get steeper and steeper, including a section of switchbacks right before the saddle that other hikers have described as “brutal.”
“Aidan Stone did a stunt here for one of the Special Forces movies,” Caro says. “You probably already knew that. It was for End Days, and he rode his motorcycle off a cliff.”
“I did hear about that.” They split up to go around a couple hiking up the path. We are moving, Ash thinks. What if we get to the top too soon?
“Okay,” Caro says when they’re back together. “Catch me up on your conversation with Hope’s agent. With Raye. And how did she find you in the first place?”
“She called when I was in my trailer last night,” Ash says. They’ve already texted about this, but she gets the need to talk it out. She’d want to do the same. “She’s arriving at Sonnet this morning, and she wants to meet us at the food truck as soon as we get back from this hike.”
They’ve seen Raye only once before, and it hadn’t even been in person.
“Say hello!” Hope had told them when she was on location in France a year or so ago, and Raye had briefly appeared on-screen for a few moments while they all exchanged So good to meet yous.
At that time Ash had had only a quick impression of dark hair, bright eyes, a warm smile.
“What was your takeaway from the conversation last night?” Caro asks.
“Raye’s super smart, she cares about Hope, and she’s relentless,” Ash says. “She will not let up on the police or the park rangers.”
“That’s great,” Caro says. “Right?”
“Yes,” Ash says, “but she’s also not going to let up on us.”
“So she thinks we might have had something to do with what happened to Hope?” Caro keeps her voice down. They’re coming up on other hikers.
“Yes,” Ash says. “Which makes sense. I mean, I’d think the same.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That we didn’t,” Ash says. “Of course.”
They go quiet for a minute, passing a group of teenagers who have a speaker with them playing music. This, Ash knows, is one of Caro’s pet peeves, but Caro doesn’t even glare at them. She keeps storming up the trail.
“Are we suspicious of Raye?” Caro asks a moment later, when they’ve gotten some distance. “We probably should be.”
“True,” Ash says. “Maybe we’ll be able to get a better read on her at lunch.” The warmth of the sun feels good now, but Ash knows it can get too hot very fast. They should slow down and have a drink. She doesn’t suggest it.
“Do you think Hope scheduled these texts?” Caro asks. “Maybe she knew she wouldn’t be here.”
Ash tries to catch Caro’s eye, but she’s looking dead ahead. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know.” A few more strides. There’s something on the trail ahead that looks like a giant burr, but then it skitters, and Ash pulls up short. “It’s a tarantula,” Caro says. “It can’t hurt you.” The spider disappears into a hole at the side of the trail.
A few yards on, and Caro clears her throat. “Okay,” she says. “I’m going to ask this because neither of us have said it out loud.” She draws in her breath. “Did it look to you like Hope… let herself fall?”
What? Ash stops in her tracks. “She would never do that,” she says fiercely. “How could you think that? You were the one she was saving when she went over the edge!”
They hike in silence. The incline steepens and the path leads them into a kind of crevasse, where the air cools and pines grow green. They start up the switchbacks, zigging and zagging, and for once Ash is the one pushing the pace, Caro the one jogging a few steps now and then to keep up.
Ash is outraged. Hope would never do such a thing.
Would she?
When they reach the lookout at the saddle, they pause, sweating.
It’s a large flat area, a kind of plateau, with a restroom and another trail map mounted on a large wooden signboard.
Slabs of sandstone make natural seats and stopping points.
The trail continues up the ragged spine to the viewpoint, tiny trees lining it in green along the way.
Ash feels like she’s in another country.
Other hikers mill around taking pictures and using the restrooms. For those who don’t have permits, this is the end of the road, and they’re looking wistfully up at the next part of the hike—the narrow clifftop, the chains, the views beyond.
A park ranger stationed at the side of the path waves at them. “Hello,” she says. “Are you planning to hike all the way to the top of Seraph’s Perch today?”
“We are,” Caro says.
“Could I see your permit?” the ranger asks pleasantly.
She’s a slim woman with a wide-brimmed hat and a cheery expression.
Ash unzips the pocket of her shorts and pulls out the permit and her ID.
As the ranger checks them over, Ash has an impulse.
Before she can overthink it or run it past Caro, she’s pulled up a photo of Hope on her phone and is showing it to the ranger.
“We’re wondering if our friend might be meeting us on the hike,” she says.
“Have you seen her today?” She ignores Caro’s startled glance.
The ranger’s face lights up in recognition, and Ash’s heart leaps. But—“I’m sorry,” the ranger says. “I haven’t. This must be so difficult.”
Of course. The ranger recognized Hope because at this point, who wouldn’t recognize Hope Hanover, the famous missing actress?
And even if they hadn’t come across her on social media or in the news, surely the park personnel are among those who’ve been given her information and told to keep an eye out.
“It is,” Ash says. “You haven’t seen her on the trail?”
The ranger shakes her head.
“If you do,” Ash says, around the sudden, immovable lump in her throat, “could you tell her we’re here?”
“Of course,” the ranger says. It’s a lie, for sure—if she spots a missing person, she’ll call the police and the ambulance; she certainly won’t be letting Hope hike her way to the top without reporting it in some way—but it’s the lie Ash wanted to hear. The ranger hands back the permit.
It’s then Ash notices that Caro has gone a few steps away. She sinks down to a sitting position, breathing heavily.
“Caro?” Ash crouches down next to her. “What’s happening?”
“I think,” Caro says, between gasps, “that I’m having a panic attack.”
“Okay,” Ash says. “I’ll talk you through it.” She reaches into Caro’s bag for her water. “Close your eyes,” she says. “Put your hand on your heart. Focus on the sound of my voice.”
The ranger glances over at them. “Everything okay?” she asks. “I have water.”
“We’re fine,” Ash calls over, because they do not want more attention and Caro is a doctor and this will all be fine.
This will all be fine, right? Ash will not be the last friend left standing, will she?
Ash shifts her body to block Caro as much as possible from the view of the ranger and the other hikers.
“My mom died here,” Caro says shortly. “On this hike.”
“What?” Ash rocks back on her heels, stunned. “You never told us that. I thought she died in a car accident.”
“I say accident and then people assume that’s what it is. And I don’t bother to correct them.” Caro’s face is carved out in pain.
Did she fall? Ash wants to ask. Why are you even doing this hike?
You don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time!
she wants to say. But she stays quiet, her hand on Caro’s back, and Caro keeps her hand over her heart, and her breathing becomes deeper, steadies. Around them the world carries on.
“She didn’t fall,” Caro says softly. “She had an aneurysm.”
“Oh, Caro,” Ash says. “I’m so sorry.” She swears she can feel Caro’s heart beating through her body.
No wonder she wants to get this over with.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ash asks. “Back when Hope first mentioned coming to Eden? Or hiking to Seraph’s Perch?”
“Because.” Caro gestures at the view. “It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world. I wouldn’t want to keep you guys from seeing it.”
“Have you been up here since it happened?” Ash asks gently.
“I’ve never done this hike before,” Caro says.
“Never?”
“No,” Caro says. “My dad never brought me. He was with her the day it happened, and he never hiked it again. And I never wanted to.”
“Did Hope know?” Ash asks, because she cannot imagine that Hope would have them revisit the site of such a family tragedy. If Caro did tell Hope, then this morning’s message is definitely not from Hope.
Caro shrugs. “I didn’t tell her,” she says. “But I’m realizing that I don’t know what Hope knew and didn’t know.”
And then, in what feels like one of those heroic moments, where a mom lifts a car off her child or someone leaps from a burning building with a puppy in their arms, Caro stands up.
“Caro,” Ash says. “Wait.”
“No,” Caro says. “I’m fine. Let’s get this done.”
“I really—” Ash says, but Caro is heading for the next part of the hike—the ridge, the sheer drops on either side, the chains.
The chains.
Ash’s stomach sinks.
The formations ahead look otherworldly, like the pictures she has seen of places in China, scrappy trees clinging to jagged cliffs. But these cliffs are Technicolor orange and red in the morning light, and they’re sandstone. So easy to slip. So easy to fall.
“Caro,” Ash says. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Caro says. “I’m steady again.” She stands on one leg, arms outstretched, as if to prove it. She holds fast, she doesn’t wobble.
“Okay,” Ash says. They fall into line a few feet behind yet another group of college-aged kids, who are wearing good hiking boots and moving at what she feels is an appropriate pace.
Hands on the chains, feet on the stone, they make their way along. The ridge is only wide enough for them to walk single file, and so when they get to a slightly wider spot, they step aside and squeeze against the cliff to let the people coming down pass them by.
Ash feels out of body.
The men coming toward them seem familiar. The way they’re moving, their strides, their shoulders and arms. Pressed up against the side of the cliff, Ash realizes the absolute trust you have to have in your fellow hikers, in complete strangers.
But the man coming down toward her along the cliff—close enough to touch, close enough to push—isn’t a stranger.
It’s her husband.