I folded it as quickly as I could, my hands beginning to tingle as sweat pricked the back of my neck. Vera was up ahead, still on the phone. I shoved the note into my pocket and hurried to keep up. After another five minutes, Vera got off the call. They were sending rangers from the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation, she said, as well as DEC police officers.

The rangers came first, in hunter-green uniforms and khaki hats, driving utility-terrain vehicles. They were going to do everything they could to find him, they said, as Vera continued to play distressed and I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to say anything wrong, wondering what would happen if the rangers found John as he was making his way toward the cabin, cash and supplies tucked away in his second backpack.

It was fully dark out by the time the officers arrived, in a cop car instead of a UTV, lights flashing, giving the parking lot an eerie clublike feel, turning the tall grasses and signposts into shadow people, dancing and gyrating as the glow flickered round and round.

Vera shifted her weight back and forth as a woman climbed out of the police car and approached. She was in a similar hunter-green uniform, but her weapons belt and wide-brimmed hat set her apart from the rangers. Against her large brown eyes and neat low bun, her hat and her gear looked too big for her, like they were weighing her down. Behind her, a short, stout man emerged from the passenger side and slowly headed our way.

‘I’m DEC Officer Parker,’ the woman said, her voice brusque but warm. ‘And this is DEC Officer Roberts.’

‘My husband,’ Vera said, voice soggy and waterlogged. ‘My husband, he –’

‘Are you the one who placed the nine-one-one call, ma’am?’ Parker asked.

Vera nodded. ‘He just –’ Her voice cracked, and she pointed to me. ‘She saw. He just …’

Parker faced me. ‘I know we’ve already got the rangers searching, but can you tell us what happened, ma’am?’