When I opened my eyes, the window shade was a pale rectangle in a wall of black. I listened for the sound of Charley’s breathing but heard only distant noises elsewhere in the building—footsteps, vague creaks, the sound of water running through pipes. I tried to make out the time on my wristwatch, but the luminous numbers had lost their glow. After a minute, I ventured to turn on the lamp. Charley and his trapper’s pack were gone. Somehow he had managed to make the bed without waking me. The sheets were as tight as those on an army cot.
I saw that it was just after five o’clock. My joints were so stiff, I had a hard time bending my knees. My forearm was itching, and I realized it was from the horsefly bite I’d gotten the previous morning at Popham Beach. The memory of the cottage seemed clouded already. I put on the clean uniform pants I had brought with me and then went into the hall bathroom to shave. The porcelain sink had an orange rust stain under the tap and an ancient mirror, cracked and flecked from age. I did my best to avoid glancing into the toilet bowl. It didn’t pay to look too closely at anything in this hikers’ hostel.
I found Charley in the dining room, sitting across a long table from an old man, drinking coffee.
“Good morning!” said Charley.
“G’morning.”
“This is Ross. He’s the proprietor of this establishment.” He pointed at me as if I were surrounded by people and needed to be picked out. “Ross, this is the young warden I was telling you about.”
Mr. Ross wore steel-rimmed glasses, sported a neatly trimmed mustache, and had the sleeves of a crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He looked more like a barber than the owner of an inn for free-spirited adventurers. His rugged features suggested he had once been as handsome as a matinee idol—some women would have said he still was.
“You must be starved,” he said, rising to his feet. “How many, and how do you like them?”
In my sleepy state, it took me a moment to realize he was referring to eggs or possibly pancakes. “Just some coffee, please.”
Mr. Ross appeared heartbroken.
“You should eat something,” Charley said. “The food’s a helluva lot better than those store-boughten doughnuts you’re going to get back at the fire station.”
I noticed that my friend had a yolk-streaked plate in front of him.
“I guess I’d have some of whatever you’re making, if it’s not too much trouble,” I said.
Ross laughed and disappeared into the kitchen.
I poured myself a mug of coffee from the carafe and sat down in one of the mismatched chairs across from Charley. “Are we the first ones up?”
“So far, but Ross said that most of the thru-hikers are early risers. They’re all eager to get back on the trail. They’ve been hearing about the Hundred Mile Wilderness for months. Ross had twenty-one people staying here last night, including a couple of other wardens. I don’t know how he and Steffi manage this place, just the two of them.”
I rubbed my eyes and took a sip of the strong, hot coffee. “I was out cold last night.”
“Has anyone ever told you you snore like a bear?”
“Did I keep you up?”
“My mind was active anyway,” he said. “I was preoccupied with those two girls. Ross told me they spent the night here before they set off into the wilderness. He said that the young men were all eager to make their acquaintance.”
“I met one of those young men at Hudson’s Lodge last night.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to be conscious enough for conversation,” Charley said.
While Ross clattered about in the kitchen, I told him about everything I’d discovered at the lean-to and the lodge, as well as the information I’d learned about Chad McDonough’s sexual assault charge.
“I feel like I should have brought him back with me,” I said.
“It doesn’t sound like he would have come willingly,” Charley said. “It’s too early in the search to assume someone attacked those girls. The first order of business is to keep looking for them until we know for a fact that they’re beyond help.”
Ross returned with a leaning tower of pancakes.
“I can’t eat all this,” I said.
“I’m used to cooking for hikers,” he said. “The rule of thumb around here is that you figure what a normal person would eat and at least triple it.”
Charley kicked the leg of the chair beside me so it slid out from the table. “Have a seat, Ross! Tell Mike here what you told me about Samantha and Missy.”
The old man glanced toward the kitchen door. “I should be getting the bacon started. It’s going to be chaos here in half an hour.”
“Just for a minute,” Charley said.
Ross sat down on the edge of the chair, his long legs knocking the bottom of the table. “I only served them meals, and I’m usually too busy for small talk,” he said. “Steffi was the one who checked them in. I remember that they were from Georgia and very polite. You don’t often see two young women thru-hiking the AT alone. People think it’s not safe, and maybe they’re right. All I know is that ninety-nine percent of the hikers who come through our doors are good human beings—better than most you meet in the world. Something about the trail seems to weed out the bad ones. I can’t explain it.”
The condiments were bunched together on a lazy Susan in the center of the table. I grabbed a glass jar of what I thought was maple syrup, only to discover it was dark, rich-looking honey. The name on the label was Breakneck Ridge Apiary: Nissen’s brand.
“Have you ever hiked the AT?” I asked.
“Me?” Ross flashed his handsome grin. “Heck no. Where would I find the time? Besides, I’m too old now, although we had a thru-hiker in here last year who was seventy and fit as a fiddle. All I know about the trail is what I hear from my guests—and Steffi.”
“That’s right,” Charley said. “Steffi hiked the AT herself, didn’t she?”
“It’s how she ended up in Monson. She stayed here a couple of years ago when Carol—my first wife—was sick.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses on his sleeve before returning them to his nose. “She came back later, when she heard I was alone and thinking of closing the place. Offered to help out. That was how Steffi fell into my life. I said her trail name should have been Trail Magic, because she bewitched me.”
“What do you remember about this McDonut feller?” Charley asked.
Ross raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought and then nodded. “The one with the sombrero.”
“That’s him,” I said between bites.
“He was quite the character! Before dinner, he dumped everything out of his pack and went into town. He came back from the general store with a case of Budweiser inside. I remember him handing out cans of beer like Santa Claus on Christmas and everyone laughing and clapping.”
“Did the girls drink any?” Charley asked.
“They did. I remember everyone making a big deal about it because the girls had never tasted alcohol before they started hiking the trail.”
“Did this McDonut seem especially fixated on them?”
“Not that I noticed, but I was pretty busy that night. Steffi says I’m oblivious.”
Charley tilted his head at me. “Mike, maybe you can show Ross the names you got out of the trail register and see if he remembers any of them.”
In my early years as a game warden, I’d often gotten myself into trouble by meddling in matters that were none of my concern. It was an impulse I was trying my best to curb. My career finally seemed to be on the right track, and I didn’t want to risk derailing it again.
“Maybe we should leave those questions for the investigators,” I said. “I’m sure Pinkham will want to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Ross himself.”
The old pilot frowned at me. “What happened to your curiosity?”
Three bearded young hikers entered the dining room and Ross sprang into action. “Good morning!” he said to the trio. “How many, and how do you like them?”
Charley was scowling again.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m not sure I like the new you.”
“You mean the one who’s not always on the verge of being fired?”
Charley appraised me for an uncomfortably long span of time.
During his tenure in the Warden Service, my friend had acquired the reputation of being a maverick. He’d been an excellent officer in every other respect, but he seemed to delight in pushing boundaries whenever he ran up against them. It was one of the reasons he’d taken a liking to me when we’d first met. Charley had never possessed my insatiable appetite for self-destruction, but he enjoyed taking risks, and I think he saw me as a kindred spirit.
But that was more than three years ago, and I was no longer that reckless kid.
“What?” I said again.
“We should be getting over to the command post.”
He got up and bused his dirty dishes, leaving me alone to finish my impossible breakfast. I got out my phone and checked my e-mail to see if there was a message from Stacey. She tended to be an early riser. I was troubled that there was no word from her.