Page after page, the stories went on. Young women mysteriously vanishing from their homes or apartments. Corpses found in secluded, wild areas. On four occasions, stories of the discovered bodies matched earlier stories of disappearances. Gillian turned several pages and came to one without a clipping. The remaining pages of the album were bare.
She turned back to the final story.MISSING TEEN FOUND SLAINUnderhill—The raped and savagely mutilated body discovered Friday by hikers in the Smuggler’s Notch area of Mt. Mansfield has been identified as that of 17-year-old Rhonda Bain, who was abducted May 24 from her parents’ home in Burlington.The nude corpse of the teen was found ...
Gillian didn’t read the rest of it. Numb and confused, she flipped to the front of the album. She counted the clipping. Twenty-six of them.
She looked again at each.
Most of the stories contained references to locations. Some of the areas were unfamiliar to Gillian, but she knew enough geography to realize that the disappearances and murders had taken place in states all over the country.
None in California, though. That was interesting.
She shut the album and stared at it.
Why, for godsake, did Fredrick Holden have a scrapbook like this?
Yeah, why?
Why do I keep my photographs and stuff?
To look at them and remember.
Chapter Fifteen
“You guys should get first choice of where you want to set up your tent,” Bonnie said.
“I think we’ll do some scouting around,” Bert told her. “You can have this campsite. I’m sure we’ll find a good one.”
Rick felt something collapse inside. Oh no, he thought. Bert, no.
Andrea pulled a boot off and looked up, perplexed. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“There’s plenty of room here,” Bonnie added. “There’s no reason to go.”
“I’m sure we won’t go far,” Bert said. “You girls didn’t come out here to be stuck with us.”
“And vice versa,” Andrea muttered.
Bert didn’t respond to that remark. “Maybe we can get together later on, tell stories around the campfire or something.”
“Whoopee.” Andrea looked at Rick. “I thought we were all going to stick together.”
“Yeah. Well. I guess it doesn’t really matter. We’ll be close by, in case anything happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Bert said. “I’m sure Jase and the others are over the pass by now.” She turned to Rick. “Why don’t we leave our packs here until we find a place? No point in lugging them around anymore than necessary.”
Andrea peeled a sock off her foot and threw it down.
Rick followed Bert to a path near the shore of the lake. “There are probably a lot of good campsites,” she said.
“This one has the stream. We want to have running water, don’t we?”
“Maybe we’ll find another stream.”
They walked only a short distance before Rick spotted a clearing with a fire ring. “Let’s check this place out,” he suggested.
Bert scanned it from where she stood. “We can do better,” she said.
It’s too close to the girls’ camp for her taste, Rick thought. Great. Wonderful. Shit.
They kept walking. Soon, they came to a clearing with a built-up fireplace that had a grate. There were logs for seats, even a makeshift table. The area had high clusters of rock on three sides that would provide a natural barrier against the wind.
It was probably not much more than a five-minute hike from the girls’ camp.
“This looks perfect,” Rick said.
“Not bad,” Bert agreed. “Why don’t we keep going, though? There’s no big hurry. Maybe we’ll run into something even better if we keep looking.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe we’ll find a stream.”
They found a stream.
But not before they had rounded the end of the lake.
Standing on a small rise, they stared down at it. The stream by the girls’ camp was a trickle compared to this. The wide band of water rushed down over bare rocks, white and frothy in places; in other places gleaming like clear glass. Not far from where it spilled into the lake, the stream formed a wide pool.
“Oh, this is fabulous,” Bert said.
Rick tried to spot the girls’ camp. He couldn’t. The stream emptied into an inlet with a rim of rocky, wooded land across the front. There was only a narrow opening between a high outcropping on the shore and the end of the sheltering arm. Bert couldn’t have found a more secluded spot. And there was a camping area on the other side of the stream, down near the inlet.
She smiled at Rick and squeezed his hand. “Come on.” She led him down the slope. She had a spring in her step. She really loves this place, Rick thought. And he couldn’t blame her. But it was too far from Andrea and Bonnie.
When they reached the stream, Bert stopped at its edge. She stood there, turning her head, smiling as she watched it rush and swirl. It sounded like a strong wind, and a hint of coolness seemed to rise off its surface.
“What do you think?” she asked. She looked eager. And she looked ready for disappointment.
“It is nice,” he admitted.
“I know we’re a long way from the girls, but this is so beautiful and we’d have it all to ourselves. It’s the kind of place I was hoping we’d find, even before we started out.”
“Okay,” Rick said.
“You want to camp with the girls, don’t you?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that we told them ...”
“We don’t owe them anything. Hell, we spent the whole day with them. We didn’t come on this trip to have a four-some. We came to be with each other.”
“It’s just that I’m worried about them.”
“The guys are long gone, Rick. The girls don’t need our protection.”
“No, I suppose not. I said we could stay here.”
“Your heart wasn’t in it. Do you want Andrea? Is that it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Because if you do, just say so. I’ll camp here, out of your way. Maybe we can even get Bonnie to come over, so she won’t...” Her voice snagged. Her eyes glimmered wet. She turned away.
Rick put his hands on her shoulders. “For godsake, Bert.”
“I’m sure she’d be ... more than happy to oblige you.”
“It might be nice,” Rick said. He felt Bert stiffen under his hands. “But she isn’t you.”
“Oh, I’m sure she has pretty much the same parts.”
“So do a Volkswagen and a Rolls-Royce.”
“Christ, you’re going automotive on me?”
“Four wheels and an engine, but there’s a difference.”
“You don’t even have a Rolls-Royce.”
“Got you.”
She sniffed and rubbed a shirtsleeve across her nose. “Yeah, you got me. Still want me to move in with you?”
“Will you?”
“No. But I’ll think about it.” She turned around. Her dirty, tear-streaked face wore half a smile.
“Your mascara ran,” Rick said.
“What mascara?” The other half of her smile came up.
“You need to wash your face.”
“Thanks, buster. You seen yourself lately?” She kissed him on the mouth. “Anyone for a bath?” she whispered.
“We’ll freeze our nuts off.”
“You may.”
“We’d better get back,” Bert said. “The girls might think we’re lost and come looking. If they see you like this ...”
“They’d go apeshit, but they’d be tough out of luck. I couldn’t get it up now if my life depended on it.”