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 exchangedSo 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.
“Doyou 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…letherself fall?”
What?Ash stops in her tracks. “She wouldneverdo 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, whowouldn’trecognize 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.
