I deliver as best I can the story of Bob. How in his final moments, he took on a man carrying a rifle with nothing more than bear spray, so that the rest of us might have a chance. I tell him Bob died thinking of his husband and how much he loved him. Rob doesn’t cry. His deep brown eyes are wells of sorrow that just go on and on.
When Rob finally accepts the plain urn containing the ashes of the largest, bravest man I’ve ever met, I can barely stand up. Luciana has to help me back to the car. We drive to our B&B in silence. There I wrap my arms around Daisy and bury my face in her fur while Luciana goes to fill the tub.
I think too much of Bob and his final moments. Not just his words for his husband, but his advice to me. To go find what I’m really looking for.
Is it a shot at a different sort of life?
Is it a chance at a real relationship with a cop I can’t get out of my head?
Or is it me that I have lost along the way?
I have no idea.
The police raid Marge’s hunting cabin. They find the various colored backpacks, hung up in two rows of four in the back room. Nothing too conspicuous, given her and Nemeth’s outdoor hobbies. Except the packs don’t belong to them, of course.
Most of the contents have been removed, probably pillaged as supplies. But in a separate lockbox, the investigators recover personal mementos belonging to the eight victims. Pieces of jewelry. Driver’s licenses.
And in the case of Timothy O’Day, a note. The one he’d been working on that night, sitting by the fire. It’s not a draft of his wedding vows, as his friends suspected. It’s a letter to them. Telling them how much he valued their friendship. And how he could not have become the man he was today, the man his future bride deserved, without their help along the way.
There are additional scratchings that must’ve been made later. Stating he got lost. Referring to arriving in a canyon and having taken shelter in a cave.
Telling his parents he loved them.
Telling Latisha not to worry, he’d be home shortly.
Telling his friends he was sorry, nothing had gone the way he planned and he hoped to make it up to them.
Second to the last line: Tomorrow I’m going to try to climb out of here.
Final line: I love you all. Hope to see you soon.
The police can’t release the letter, as the original will be used at trial. But I convince Sheriff Kelley to make six copies. One for each of the college friends, plus one for Latisha, and then a final one, which Neil promises to hand deliver to Patrice.
Martin’s body is eventually recovered from the ravine. The number of bullet wounds he sustained . . . How the man ever stalked Nemeth through the woods, let alone found the strength for that final attack, defies imagination.
Upon receiving the news, Luciana and I somberly tend to our final and most difficult chore. We call Patrice via FaceTime and in between bouts of tears we tell her how Martin never gave up. That despite increasingly difficult circumstances, he forged on, determined to bring their son home to her. That he told us she was the great love of his life while remembering Tim with such pride and devotion. That Martin considered himself a lucky man for having such an amazing family.
Martin died honoring the memory of their son, but he also died knowing they would all be together soon.
On the screen, Patrice’s face is impossibly pale, her bald head wrapped in a flowered scarf. She dabs at her blue eyes, thanks us for our report. Then she smiles, so bittersweet, I feel my heart break in my chest all over again.
She says she knew Martin wouldn’t fail. He promised her he’d find Tim, and Martin never lied. She thanks us for delivering these final memories of her husband and her son. She apologizes that we came to harm, as that’s the last thing she and Martin ever wanted or expected.
I tell her Martin saved my life.
She smiles and says that makes perfect sense, as Martin saved her life, too. And made all of it worth living.
She means it, I realize. And despite the awfulness of the conversation, she appears at peace in a way that’s difficult to explain. She’s a woman nearing the end and knows it. But she’s also a woman with no more unfinished business. Her son and her husband are coming home to her. And soon enough, they will be a family again.
Searchers recover more evidence as they scour the mountains. Bolt-holes previously established by Marge and Nemeth containing duffel bags filled with everything from hunting gear to boxes of ammo to additional MREs. No wonder they always seemed one step ahead. They had planned for their strategy well, two lifelong outdoorspeople, putting their knowledge and experience to a much darker use.