Wild theories abounded. Amateur sleuths became obsessed with the case, the young, wide-eyed, innocent-looking boy in the photo, the baby-faced felon who had escaped and brilliantly faked his own death, some assumed, to live life as a criminal off the grid. Fear spread, and the manhunt was massive, combing miles north of Mount St. Helens, the way they’d assumed he’d gone by the trail of breadcrumbs left behind.
Months had gone by. The leads dried up, and the news stations moved on to the next big thing, most people assuming that Nico had indeed met some grisly end out there in the remote wilderness. Eventually, his name faded into oblivion, but all this time…
“Are you really him?”
Another log popped in the fire, sending up a flurry of red sparks that lit Daniel’s eyes for a moment as he nodded.
Annie had a decision to make. Right now.
On the one hand, there was what sheshoulddo, the thing she’d scream at any woman in this situation to do.Run for your life. Do whatever it takes to get as far away from this man as you possibly can.
Daniel was watching her, his expression unreadable.
Annie did not run. She did not scream. Instead, she leaned forward in her chair and met his eyes with every scrap of courage she could muster.
“Tell me everything.”
Chapter 18NICO
Nico trailed the group, lagging a few meters behind the rest as they hiked along the single-track trail towardthe sound of rushing water. His pack was sitting uncomfortably on his narrow hips, and it was much heavier than the packs carried by the other boys.
Nico’s was stuffed with as many freeze-dried meals, granola bars, and packets of oatmeal as would fit inside, plus first-aid supplies and tools far beyond what the troop’s weeklong outing called for. There were also his drawing pad and the new set of charcoal pencils his mother had given him for his last birthday, and the most precious thing of all, hidden deep in a zippered pocket. A wad of bills bound by a rubber band. Every last dollar he’d scrounged for during the past year. Dozens of lawns mowed, dogs walked, and even babies sat. He’d busted his butt for that few hundred dollars, which would have to last him for as long as he could possibly stretch it.
Nico yanked on the straps of his pack to adjust the weight on his hips. He’d just have to get used to being uncomfortable. A lot more hiking was ahead of him in the days to come, but at least he’d be alone and could move at his own pace. Keeping up with the group had been a struggle for the last two days, but now even more so as the trail tilted upward toward the falls.
The sound of rushing water was growing louder by the second, and Nico strained to see over the heads in front of him. There, to the right of their troop leader, Mr. Sorenson, he spotted a metal sign.
RUBICON FALLS .2 MILES.
For the third time in five minutes, Nico glanced at his watch: 11:08.
They were early. Much, much too early.
He swore under his breath and quickly fished the itinerary out of his back pocket, opening it again as he hiked.
12pm. Lunch at Rubicon Falls
They were almost an hour ahead of schedule. Mr. Sorenson might decide to have the boys put in another few miles of hiking before they stopped to eat. They might pass right by the falls without breaking stride, and then this whole thing would be blown. They had to stop for lunch here. They justhadto.
Around the next bend in the trail, the falls came into view: a snow-white wall of water tumbling over a slick dark lip of rock, churning up mist in the pewter pool below.
The troop crossed over a wooden bridge, boots echoing hollowly across the old boards, and Nico’s hands balled into tight fists, fingernails digging into his palms.
Please…he willed Mr. Sorenson as the troop leader stepped off the other side of the bridge.Please!
A single, mossy picnic table sat below the trail in the mist off the falls, and Mr. Sorenson turned toward it.
Nico let out a breath of relief and unsnapped the front buckle of his pack.
“All right, men,” Mr. Sorenson called, setting his pack on the ground and turning to face the gathered troop. “You have thirty minutes. Eatand filter water here, too. Make sure you’re full up before we get going, we’re not stopping again until we reach camp.”
There was a gentle murmur of conversation as the boys pulled the packs off their shoulders and rummaged in them for lunch. Nico carried his pack to a shady spot beneath a feathery hemlock and dropped it there.
Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he pulled out the single sneaker waiting in the top pocket and wedged it into the waistband of his pants, hiding it under his shirt. Then, he lifted the orange plastic trowel from the side pouch.
His heart was racing as he made his way through the boys to Mr. Sorenson.
“Watch it, loser,” Bradley grumbled, catching Nico’s shoulder as he passed. He stumbled, but kept moving forward and did not take the bait. He had no time to engage with Bradley or any of his basketball buddies, whose second favorite sport was pushing Nico around.
