Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [57]
She wanted to see the spot where Devin had found Drew Cameron.
She hadn’t known Devin then, but she believed the horror of that day was key to whatever was going on with him. Maybe if she could understand, she could help him—even if he had stolen money from her.
“Which he didn’t,” she whispered aloud, getting on her hands and knees and smoothing out her sleeping bag as best she could. She’d been lucky to find the campsite before nightfall. She could have hiked longer, but she hadn’t wanted to trip over a rock or a root in the dark and break something. Then what would she do?
Pitching her tent hadn’t taken her as long as it might have if she hadn’t practiced after she bought it for her class with Elijah. The poles were color coded, which had made things easier. She’d eaten up daylight trekking from where she’d left her car. Everyone would think she was on the east trail—it was one of the easiest and most popular—but she’d cut off onto a seldom-used spur that intersected the falls trail. And she hadn’t stayed on it, either. Going off trail was a huge risk, but she didn’t want anyone to stumble on to her—including Devin, she thought, feeling guilty at her disloyalty.
She’d started up the mountain too late in the day to get to the north side before nightfall. Even at a moderate pace, she could cover maybe a mile an hour hiking in the rugged terrain, but her heavy pack and the conflation of a thousand different emotions—fear, grief, shock, everything—had slowed her down.
She sniffled, crawling back to the head of her sleeping bag. She’d taken off her boots, but her feet were dry and warm in her socks—wool with a moisture-wicking liner. The tent was tight quarters, but Elijah had explained how a smaller space was easier to warm up and keep warm. He’d emphasized all the ways not to freeze to death.
Like his father did.
Nora pulled off her gloves—she’d put them and a hat on once she’d gotten up on the mountain—and tucked them back in her pack, her teeth chattering, although not from the cold. It was her jumble of thoughts and all the different scenarios that her mind kept throwing out to her of what was going on.
She wished she could just stop thinking.
There was, mercifully, no wind where she was, although supposedly her tent could withstand high winds. She could hear the rush of the waterfall straight down from her campsite and an owl in the nearby spruce tree, its rhythmic hoot eerie but not scary. It was as if it were calling to her, trying to reassure her that all would be well.
Fully clothed except for her hiking boots, Nora slid deep into her mummy-style sleeping bag. It was rated to keep her warm in temperatures as cold as minus twenty. It’d be cold tonight, but not that cold. She’d be fine. She’d eaten a couple of energy bars and drunk plenty of water; Elijah had pounded in the importance of staying hydrated.
She lay on her back, not feeling as claustrophobic as she’d expected. She adjusted the sleeping bag’s hood up over her head, another way to prevent heat loss.
Shutting her eyes was the same as keeping them open. Everything was black. Her tent had a little mesh stargazing window that she could open, but she thought looking up at the night sky would only make her feel smaller, more alone.
Alex is dead…Melanie hates me…Mom doesn’t care about me…
“Don’t think,” she whispered, wriggling inside her sleeping bag. She hoped she didn’t have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She’d dug a cat-hole outside her tent, but she hated—hated—the idea of having to use it, especially in the dark. Such niceties wouldn’t faze Devin.
Maybe she should have trusted him.
She clutched the silky sleeping bag from the inside.
You’re in shock.
She wished Alex hadn’t been killed, but she didn’t delude herself. She’d never loved him and resented how he had treated her father. Ever since her mother and Alex got together, Nora had tried to be neutral about him. Devin didn’t understand why she’d