Chapter 37

I was nervous. No, not for the hike, what with me being super and this being my childhood stomping grounds, but for what we might find, or even not find. The latter seemed the most likely, and then where would I be? I mean, the trail, my trail, had seemingly gone cold. No one found my parents eleven years ago; why should now be any different?

We headed out early that morning. We knew exactly where I’d been found at age seven. From there, it was simply a matter of backtracking. Then again, nothing about hiking in the rugged terrain of Montana is done “simply.” Plus, I was young and agile; Doug was…well, Doug generally ate muffins and drank coffee all day. His jaw was the most exercised part of his body.

“Fuck,” he said, a mere thirty minutes into our climb.

“You already said that.” In fact, he said it after five minutes, and then about every three minutes thereafter.