22
BEFORE
Hi!
Its Page.
I thought that I should rite you a letter. How are you? How is colege?
My school is bad not good because Brad Wilton is still mean and most of the boys are mean to most of the girls but Brad Wilton is espeshuly mean to me. Gram says that is becusase he likes me but shes wrong. He is the kind of mean that is only mean.
I miss you. I wish you didn’t leave. Everyone goes. First mom and dad. Now you but I know colege is good and I would like to go someday too. I wish there were a colege in Spring Creek.
I love you. Please rite to me. I love you. I miss you.
Page
23
ASH
A SWARM OF GUESTS FILLSthe reception area in the main Sonnet tent, but they part like the Red Sea when Ash and Caro enter. Ash brings her hand to the bandages on her face, self-conscious of them and of her dirty clothes. At the hospital she’d washed up and combed her hair with the cheap plastic comb that a nurse brought her, but she knows that she and Caro still look rough. The Lyft driver had looked askance at them when they’d climbed in the car at the hospital, clearly wondering what was going on.
People might not know that we were trapped in the canyon or that our friend is missing,Ash thinks,but it’s obvious we’ve been throughsomething. A teenage boy who’d been complaining loudly shuts up and steps back.
“Come with me,” Page says before either Ash or Caro can speak. She nods at the other staff who are manning the reception desk: Gareth and a kid whose name tag readsMAL. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try to get in touch with Colby again.”
Page leads them out the back door and into another large white canvas tent.This must be the staff tent, Ash thinks, noting the bulletin board with photos and announcements tacked to it, the long counter holding a microwave and coffee maker, the tables dotting the room with chairs surrounding them. One of the tables has playing cards scattered across it, as if theplayers were interrupted mid-game. Page gestures to two squashy-looking couches facing each other across a low coffee table piled with brochures and magazines. “Please, sit down,” she says. “We’d have come to get you from the hospital if you’d called. I’m so sorry.” The wild-eyed girl from the rescue site is gone, and she’s back to the composed resort employee. Or she’s trying to be. There’s a worried look about her that tugs at Ash’s heart.
“It seemed more efficient to get ourselves here,” Ash says. “You must have your hands full.”
Caro has no time for small talk. “Have you heard anything about our friend?” She doesn’t say Hope’s name, real or fake. Once word gets out that Hope Hanover is missing, it’s going to be even more of a zoo than it already is. They talked about what to do regarding Hope’s identity when they were at the hospital, but so far they haven’t been able to figure out the best course of action.
“No,” Page says. “I’m sorry. Are you in contact with the police?”
“Yes,” Caro says. “We spoke to an officer at the hospital. But if you hear anything, we want to know. In case you find out anything first.”
“Of course,” Page says, and Ash thinks,She’s a kid. How old is she, twenty?
“We need the key to our friend’s trailer,” Ash says. “It’s number 18.” She feels something kicking in, her boss babe. Or her mama bear. Theyhaveto figure this out. Theyhaveto get in touch with their families and theyhaveto find Hope. The rest they can deal with later. “We put our phones in there for safekeeping during the hike, since the tents don’t lock. We need to get in touch with our families.”
“Oh,” Page says. “I’m sure you can use our phones to call out. I’m not sure about letting you into someone else’s—”
“She came with us,” Ash says. “She’smissing.” Her tone brooks no argument. Caro gives Ash a sideways glance. Caro hasn’t fully seen this side of her before, Ash knows. She tries to keep it hidden, to make things comfortable for other people, to keep themlikingher. But right now, she can’t help herself.
“Let me try to get in touch with Colby, our manager, again,” Page says.
“I don’t—” Ash says, but Caro puts a hand on her arm. “Thank you,” Caro says, and Ash, until this moment so electrically charged, so tightly wound, sags back briefly in the chair, exhaustion coming over her. She’s thinking of her kids, of how she and Hope and Caro never should have come here in the first place; she’s thinking ofHope, who is who knows where going through who knows what, or, worst-case scenario, not going through anything, because—
Because they’ve lost her.
Because she’s dead, or gone.
24
CARO
CARO CAN’T STAY STILL.While Page holds the phone to her ear and Ash puts her head in her hands, waiting, Caro paces the room, desperate for any distraction. Her gaze lands on a bulletin board, and she walks over to look at it. There are the usual things tacked to the board—announcements, a reminder about the holiday schedule for the Fourth of July, a copy of the notice that is framed in the reception area of the main tent—WEAREONPAIUTEANDPUEBLOLANDS—and there, something else. Caro leans closer. A few photographs are tacked to the board. They seem to be pictures of staff doing different things—here in this room celebrating, out on a hike together among orange-red rocks—and then another shot, printed from a computer. It looks like—
