“Nobody knew a thing, except one person did think he ran into him.” He nodded at the camper. “Evening before last. In the bathroom. Big grubby guy with dark hair and a beard.”

“Taking a shower?” I asked.

“No, ma’am.” He hesitated. “Taking a leak.”

“Doesn’t the camper have a bathroom?”

“I really don’t know.” He hesitated again. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t stay in there. Minute I saw that. Well, whatever it was. I was gone like a second.”

“And you don’t know what towed this thing?” Marino then asked.

The ranger was looking very uncomfortable now. “This time of year it’s usually quiet out here, and dark. I had no reason to notice what vehicle it was hooked up to, and in fact don’t recall there even being one.”

“But you got a plate number.” Marino’s stare was unfriendly through his hood.

“Sure do.” Relieved, the ranger pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Got his registration right here.” He opened it. “Ken A. Perley, Norfolk, Virginia.”

He handed the paper to Marino, who sarcastically said, “Oh good. The name the asshole stole off a credit card. So I’m sure the plate number you got is accurate, too. How did he pay?”

“Cashier’s check.”

“He gave this to someone in person?” Marino asked.

“No. He made the reservation by mail. No one ever saw anything except the paperwork in your hand. Like I said, we never saw him.”

“What about the envelope this thing came in?” Marino said. “Did you save it so maybe we got a postmark?”

The ranger shook his head. He nervously glanced at suited scientists, who were listening to his every word. He stared at the trailer and wet his lips.

“You mind my asking what’s in there. And what’s going to happen to me ’cause I went in?” His voice cracked and he looked like he might cry.

“It could be contaminated with a virus,” I said to him. “But we don’t know that for sure. Everybody here is going to take care of you.”

“They said they were going to lock me up in some room, like solitary confinement.” Fear erupted, his eyes wild, voice loud. “I want to know exactly what’s in there that I might have got!”

“You’ll be in exactly the same thing I was last week,” I assured him. “A nice room with nice nurses. For a few days of observation. That’s all.”

“Think of it as a vacation. It really ain’t that big of a deal. Just because people are in these suits, don’t go getting hinky,” Marino said as if he were one to talk.

He went on as if he were the great expert in infectious diseases, and I left the two of them and approached the camper alone. For a moment, I stood within feet of it and looked around. To my left were acres of trees, then the river where our boats were moored. Right of me, through more trees, I could hear the sounds of a highway. The camper was parked on a soft floor of pine needles, and what I noticed first was the scraped area on the white-painted tongue.