Charlie’s hazel eyes bore a hole in Alexa’s. “I heard about the landslide when I got to the hut, and then you didn’t come. I was worried.”
Her heart swelled.
“Each time another hiker came in, and it wasn’t you, and I thought you were hurt, or, I don’t know.” He worked his jaw. “I told that ranger woman you were late.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have a way…”
“So you’ve been hanging out here?” Charlie gestured to the food and her almost-empty wineglass.
“Something came up. I’ll explain later.” Then she frowned at Stead, who should have been stuck on the other side of the rockslide. She thought she’d never see him again. “How can you be here?”
“I walked with your brother.”
The men’s jackets dripped on the hardwood as everyone stared at them.
“But you were at Clinton Hut when I last saw you. You were behind me. Behind the landslide.” His presence didn’t make sense.
“I have friends in high places,” Stead said ambiguously. “I got airlifted.”
Her mouth dropped. Was he buddies with the killer helicopter pilot?
“Ranger Harker called in a copter to assess the landslide damage. I hitched a ride so I could continue my tramp.” He looked around the room, even nodded at a woman staring at him from one table over, her soup spoon halfway to her mouth.
Mark cleared his throat. “Please, gentlemen, take off your coats and join us.”
Stead stuck out his hand to shake Mark’s, and smiled at Debbie and Cassandra. “I’m Steadman Willis. The ranger at Mintaro Hut said there was a missing tramper. Has she been found?”
“No,” Cassandra’s eyes were glittery. “We’re worried about her. Last night at the other lodge—what was the name?”
“Glade Lodge,” Mark said.
“I saw someone lurking in the bushes out my window. I think he was spying on us. Maybe, well, I don’t know. Maybe he did something to Diana.”
“That’s scary,” Debbie said. “Did you report it?”
“When I looked again, he was gone. So I didn’t. But now?”
Alexa wondered if the Peeping Tom story was true. Who in the world would be peeping through a window in the middle of nowhere? Maybe Cassandra sought attention. She’d heard of witnesses making things up to feel important.
Stead broke in. “I’m president of the Greymouth Tramping Club and a volunteer with LandSAR. I can lead a search for the woman.”
Stead was full of surprises.
“What’s LandSAR?” Mark asked, gesturing to the two empty chairs. Charlie sank into one, unzipped his jacket, and helped himself to a piece of bread.
Stead remained standing. “It’s a search and rescue organization. We carry out more than five hundred operations each year for lost trampers.”
“Oh my,” Debbie said. “Do they usually get found?”
“Most do. American, are you?”
Mark and Debbie nodded.
“We had a mother and daughter from the States, the Carolinas, get lost in Tararua Forest Park. They were out for a day hike. It took us four days to find them. The daughter was on the brink. Shared her dying wishes, even.” Stead looked out the window. “Your Pompolona Lodge manager is expecting me. There’s an hour of light left.”
Charlie stood, still chewing. “I’ll help look.”
Alexa cast a sad glance at her pumpkin soup. “Me too.”
Talk ceased as they threaded between tables. “I’ll have them keep your dinner warm,” Debbie called.
They found Vince Bergen pacing his small office, his hair in tufts.
Stead introduced himself. “I’ll take over the search efforts.”
Vince’s shoulders lowered. He looked at Charlie. “You must be Miss Glock’s brother?”
Charlie nodded.
“Fill me in,” Stead said. “The ranger at Mintaro didn’t know much. Who is missing and for how long?”
“Her name is Diana Clark. She’s a medical doctor. She should have shown up here by three or four o’clock.” Vince looked at his watch. “It’s seven now.”
“What have you done to locate her?”
“SAR is on standby. Three people are out searching. My wife, Kathy. She’s qualified in mountaineering first aid. Clint Knight, the Luxe guide—he has first aid training, too, of course—and another bloke. They’re walking toward the river.” He pointed out the route on the wall map.
“Do you have a way to contact them?”
“Both Kathy and Clint have radios.”
Stead studied the map. “Get them back here so we can coordinate.”
Alexa studied the map, too, pinpointing the area where she’d found the bones. She would show the police in the morning.
“But won’t that take time?” Vince asked.
Stead traced the outline of the trail with his finger, and then tapped the Pompolona Lodge dot. “It’s better to waste a few minutes than have one search turn into two.”
While Vince made contact, a tentative knock made them turn. Rosie stood uncertainly in the doorway and cleared her throat. “Any word on my sister?”
“No word,” Vince said.
“When is the last time you saw her?” Stead asked.
Rosie’s cheeks were blotchy. “At Prairie Shelter for lunch. Around one o’clock. Who are you?”
Stead introduced himself.
“She finished eating and left,” Rosie continued. “She should have beat me here.”
Stead tapped the spot on the map. “Has anyone seen her since?”
“Dr. Salvú hiked off with her,” Rosie said. “He’s searching for her now.”
“It’s crucial to establish her point last seen. Describe your sister. What’s her age?”
Rosie slipped her phone out of her pocket and fiddled. “Diana is forty-six. Here’s a picture from yesterday.”
Stead took the phone, studied it. “She looks fit, eh? Is this what she’s wearing?” He passed the phone to Charlie, who shared it with Alexa. Diana beamed by the MILFORD TRACK sign.
“She wouldn’t wear the same outfit two days in a row,” Rosie said. “I know she’s wearing the yellow Luxe Tours raincoat.”
“That will make her easier to spot. What color is her backpack?”
Rosie thought for a moment. “Blue, I think. Yes.”
“Does she have a PLB?”
Rosie nodded.
Alexa had learned about Personal Locator Beacons in her last case. “It’s an emergency device that can send an SOS to Search and Rescue,” she told Charlie.
Stead frowned. “Odd that she hasn’t used it. Do you know if it’s registered?”
Rosie shrugged. “I have no idea. She always has the latest and greatest gadgets. That’s why I haven’t been worried. If she were in danger, she would have set it off.”
“Does she have any medical conditions?”
“Not that I know of.”
Stead hesitated, scratching his chin. “Does she suffer from depression or another mental disorder?”
Rosie studied her silver and white tennis shoes. “Arrogance isn’t a mental disorder, but it might be what has gotten Di in trouble,” she said quietly.
Stead nodded. “I know people like that. Think they’re invincible. Does she have food and water?”
“She has a water bottle and snacks.”
Stead’s flow of questions impressed Alexa. Her confusion at seeing him evaporated. He appeared to be a take-charge guy. Impressive, even.
Vince broke in. “Kathy says they’re ten minutes away. No sign of Diana. We’ll meet them on the porch. That’s better than everyone traipsing through the lobby, setting off a panic.”
“I need you to contact SAR again,” Stead said. “See if anything has come through via the PLB. Check if her device is registered. If it is, see if it has GPS tracking. That would tell us where she is. Or rather, where the PLB is.”
Vince grabbed a pencil.
Stead addressed Rosie, Charlie, and Alexa. “We’re all this woman has right now.”
“I’ll go change into my boots,” Alexa said. “And get my raincoat.”
“Grab a torch, too,” Stead said.
“Charlie, you can come with me. I’ll show you our room.” She wanted to tell him about escaping the landslide. And about the bones and the helicopter pilot.
He avoided her gaze. “I’ll see it later.”
Alexa’s heart sank.
Rosie looked down. “I better change shoes, too.”
Laughter and talk flitted from the dining room as they scurried by, the sounds incongruous to the task ahead. Alexa glanced at Rosie. “What do you think has happened to your sister?”
“I think she’s lost, but doesn’t want to admit it.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Princess Di never admits to being wrong. She’s out there somewhere clawing her way back.”
The image was unsettling.
The boot mat was empty. Alexa unlocked the door, flicked on the lights, and looked around. No signed, sealed, delivered dry boots. She tried to stay calm about her missing boots. She grabbed her raincoat and flashlight, ate the remaining chocolate, and wondered why the room was so chilly. She snatched back the drapes. The window was wide open. My bad, she thought, remembering it had been open when Silas showed her the room. Someone could climb right in. She closed and latched it.
Maybe her boots were in Guest Laundry. She locked the room, passed the next guest room—Takahe—and poked into the laundry. There were two washers, one spinning clothes in a swirl of suds, and two silent dryers. No boot-drying contraption. Dammit. She missed Clinton Hut where no one touched her boots, though that woman had admonished her for wearing them in the hut. Who ever heard of boot etiquette? And now boot theft. She’d find Silas and ask where they were, or hike in her Tevas.
Silas wasn’t behind the bar. No one was. Through the windows Alexa could see Stead and Charlie under the porch, and mist from the woods stretching to swallow them. She stepped out of her Tevas, whipped off her socks, stuffed them in her pocket—they were her only dry pair—and pulled the Tevas back on. At least they were better than the Crocs one of the nurses hiked in. She slipped her Maglite into her raincoat pocket and the first aid kit strap over her shoulder. She joined the men on the porch as the search trio climbed the steps.
Stead, wearing a backpack, explained who he was. “I’ll be acting coordinator.”
Kathy removed her hood and introduced herself as co-manager of Pompolona Lodge. Her face was drawn. “We made it halfway to Pompolona Creek. No sign of her. At least the rain has stopped. I’ll go check in with Vince. Be back in five.”
“Bugger,” said Clint. “This whole thing is alarming. Where is she? I remember you from the boat ride,” he told Stead. “Clint Knight with Luxe Tours.”
Stead nodded, and turned to the remaining searcher. “Are you the person who last saw Diana Clark?”
“Me?” He shook his hood off, and swiped his dark bangs to the side. His face was flushed. “Dr. Salvú. Call me Larry.”
Alexa, remembering how he had swirled an olive on a toothpick at the bar, wondered how many mixed drinks he’d consumed.
“When did you see Dr. Clark last?” Stead asked.
“We ate at that shelter. The rain, don’t you see? What time was that, Clint?”
“Half past one.”
Around the time I discovered the skeleton.
“We work together,” Larry said. “I’m Diana’s anesthesiologist. I’ll help you get through your surgery. Tell me when you can no longer feel your wallet.”
Alexa couldn’t believe the guy was cracking jokes.
“Always in a hurry, Diana is,” he continued. “Least amount of pain meds, so patients don’t need much recovery time. Get them in, get them out. Same with lunch. Diana left the shelter first. I never caught up with her. ”
This statement snagged Alexa’s attention. Rosie had said Larry and Diana hiked off together. One of them was mistaken.
“Is there anyone else who saw her after that?” Stead asked.
Larry shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a freedom hiker.”
Stead gave a sharp nod. “For now we’ll say Dr. Clark’s last contact was the shelter at one thirty. That’s six hours ago and three kilometers from here. Statistically, the doctor is either lost or hurt.”
“But how could she be lost?” Charlie asked. “The path is well marked.”
“Maybe she stepped off the path to take a wee,” Stead said. “She takes a left instead of a right, and she’s lost in thick bush. It happens.”
Rosie and Kathy rushed out the door. “Vince has notified SAR,” Kathy said. “They haven’t received any signal.”
“I had a rescue once—a lone tramper was crossing a swollen river and got swept away,” Stead said. “His PLB was in his pack, which washed away.”
“Did he die?” Alexa asked.
“He got out of the river, but without his PLB, he couldn’t signal for help. He died of hypothermia.”
Alexa hated sad endings.
Stead removed his hiking poles from his pack and extended them. “Here’s the plan. We’ll split into three teams.”
Alexa stepped close to Charlie.
“I’ve divided our search range into segments.” He looked at Charlie and Alexa. “Segment one is Pompolona Lodge to Pompolona Creek. One of you,” he looked at Clint and Kathy, “give them a radio.”
Kathy handed Charlie hers.
“That’s where the swing bridge is, right?” Charlie asked. “How far away is it?”
“Twenty minutes.” Stead looked at Kathy. “You and the two gentlemen”—he indicated Clint and Larry—“will take between here and halfway to Mintaro Hut. Rosie and I will take the High Floss side trail.”
Kathy nodded. “Be careful. It’s steep and slippery.”
Up until this moment, all Alexa could think about was human remains and the whizzing of the bulk bag coming at her head. But on the cusp of night, fear for the missing woman slipped to the head of the line.
“Search ten feet on either side of the trail, when safe,” Stead ordered. “One on each side. Stay within voice range of your search partner. Trampers usually take the course of least resistance, so if the terrain looks dicey, avoid it. Every five minutes, call her name, stop, and listen for ten seconds.”
“How long do we stay out?” Charlie asked.
“It’s coming on dark. One hour. Walk thirty minutes, then turn. If you find her, use the radio. We’ll come fast.”
Alexa looked at Charlie, who pulled his hood up. “Ready?”