“Sure, I did. That was no spirit. That was just a hiker, taking in the view. It’s a national park, Will.” She put her hands on Willow’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Willow looked up at the cliff again, then sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m glad we did this.”
The guides came back, and it was time to go. They all got back into their canoes, and as they paddled away from shore, Willow felt oddly reluctant to leave. She kept looking back through tears. Her cousins wereallwatching her now, not just Drew. The family was worried.
As they rounded a gentle bend, she could see how rough and fast the water became up ahead. They were going to ride the small stretch of rapids. The shuttles to take them back to their van would be waiting on the other side.
As she looked at the white water, she thought that even if her brother had survived this far, he wouldn’t have made it any farther.
“Shoot, my phone!” Maria-Michelle cried.
Willow turned to see her cousin’s phone bounding away from her in its plastic zipper bag. “I need that phone!” she cried.
She wasn’t being dramatic. She was the town vet. Her being without her phone was not an option. Being the Brand man nearest, Baxter sprang into action, bracing his arms on the sides of his canoe and vaulting over the side into the water. He let out a hoot, so it must’ve been cold, sank out of sight, but then popped up again.
The water rushing past him was neck deep, and he was dang near as tall as Ethan. Still, he half-swam, half-waded toward the phone.
The phone, however, was faster.
“It’s not going far!” the guide from the boat they shared said.
Everyone angled their boats into a small strand that split off from the side of the river, and Baxter continued wading into the calmer shallows.
“See?” the guide called.
Sure enough, the air-filled baggy floated straight into that gathering of garbage on the shore. There were pieces of clothing, a shoe, a backpack with its straps torn off, multiple beer and pop cans, and dozens of other things.
“Everything that doesn’t sink winds up here,” said Graham, the guide between Trevor and Orrin.
Willow sat in her canoe, which was resting in the shallow inlet, and stared at the pile of garbage in the water along the shore. “This must be where they found the blanket,” she whispered on tight vocal cords. “Maybe the baby washed up here, too.”
“Baby?” Lupe sounded so stunned it made Willow turn to look at her. Her eyes were round and horrified.
“I’m—”
“Writing a screenplay,” Drew filled in.
Willow said, “Yeah. Writing a screenplay.” What a joke. She could barely stand to write arrest reports. Then she looked at her cousins all around her, and for a second just appreciatedthat theywereall around her. Each acknowledged in silence that they’d heard the lie and would support it. “A baby gets swept away in a flash-flood, and somehow, survives.”
“Right,” said Trevor. “So the first bit of research is to find out how that could’ve happened and whether it’s even possible. Right, Willow?”
“Exactly, Trevor.”
“I thought you were a police officer.” The guide was concerned. She probably feared she was aiding and abetting some baby-dumping ring.
“Deputy sheriff.”Not the same thing.“The writing is…a?—”
“Side gig,” said Drew.
The guide frowned, looking at her colleagues as Baxter grabbed the phone and waded back to the boat. He handed it up to Maria-Michelle, then climbed back in his own canoe, while Ethan and their guide Matt kept it upright.
“Thanks,” Maria said. “But now you’re soaked.”
“He’ll be okay,” Lupe said. “It’s only another twenty minutes to the van. You all ready?”
Everyone looked at Willow, including Baxter, who was soaking wet. “Let’s go then.”
The current picked up, and then the roar of the water got too loud for conversation as the cousins were swept into the rapids.
