Two days. I could hold out two days. I prayed Ellie could, too. That she’d meant what she’d said when she weakly said okay to my pathetic plea.

I nodded. ‘Monday it is.’

The hike was just as strenuous as the first time, and I was breathless when we reached the place where the girl had fallen. I peered over the edge, eyeing the water rushing beneath, and I imagined John, his body dashed against the rocks in the middle, wrenched away to who knew where. It was fantasy, fiction – something that would never actually happen, but I could see it playing out in front of me.

‘It’s okay to picture it,’ Vera said, leaning in close.

I jumped.

‘I know it’s morbid,’ she went on, ‘but if we can see it in our mind’s eye, we’ll be so much more likely to believe it when we have to tell the police.’

‘Hey,’ John said. ‘Please don’t get too used to the idea of my death.’

Vera turned on her heel, her voice stern. ‘I need you to take this seriously.’

‘I am.’

She crossed her arms. ‘I’m not kidding, John.’

He rocked back and forth on his heels, humbled as a child who’d misbehaved. ‘I know. It just got a little real, I guess. But I promise, I am taking this seriously. I have to.’

‘Yeah,’ Vera said. ‘You of all people should know that you do.’

The plan was to drop his camera off the edge, leave his backpack and water bottle behind (minus a small bag full of emergency items: protein bars, an extra layer, a long-life flashlight, a portable charger for his phone, a new SIM card so his phone couldn’t be traced), and head off the trail. He’d make his way the four miles toward the cabin. There he’d shave his beard and grab a baseball cap, some money, a few items of clothing that the police would never realize were missing, and the car. Then, around midnight or sometime thereafter, he’d drive until he got far enough away to stop at a seedy motel that took cash. Once he was settled, once Vera and I had given our statements, he’d call and tell Vera exactly where he’d wound up. I would leave town as quietly as possible to join him. The police would have my number, in case they needed to ask me any follow-up questions, and if they asked me why I’d left, I could always tell them I had an ex who’d found me, much as I didn’t want to. Most important, I would be away from Woodstock. Away from Davis.

Was it foolproof? Not exactly. But it was the only way for me to stay with them.