It was late September before Del broke away for his annual solo paddle. He typically did it at the beginning of the season, as a scouting trip and a way of settling in for a summer of guiding. But they had been especially busy and short-handed this year, and so he had forgone his usual escape, instead spending a week guiding four cheerful women in their early fifties. They had loved him, of course. Everyone loved Del. He was singularly good-natured, inclined to think the best of people, and most people he encountered instinctively recognized this generosity of spirit and reciprocated with their own good will. They also tipped him well, which was why he had stuck with guiding into his early thirties. Del loved the Boundary Waters, but he also loved his home and life in Duxbury, and he was strongly tempted at the end of the season to pack it up and head back to Massachusetts. Yet the summer would have felt incomplete without that clarifying time alone on the water. It was impossible for Del to fully appreciate the wilderness while he was guiding. To the extent that his mind was focused on the present, it was wholly absorbed by his clients: responding to their questions, catching their mistakes, monitoring their fatigue. And the rest of his thoughts were projected toward the future, contemplating the next portage and the next campsite, and the one after that, and the one after that. No, he decided, it would be wrong to miss the opportunity to simply be in the wilderness, unencumbered by responsibility for others.

The route that Del had selected for this trip was not a popular one. He had been paddling popular routes all summer and now wanted to see something different. Because it was so late in the year, and because even at the peak of the season, the chain of lakes he was traversing saw little traffic, he thought it unlikely he would encounter other paddlers. Thus he was surprised, around noon on the second day, to spot not only an occupied campsite but what looked like a rather large one. From a distance, he could spot six or seven figures moving along the shoreline. In his typical spirit of friendly curiosity, he pointed his canoe in their direction, making slower progress today against a brisker wind. Del’s approach appeared to cause some agitation in the camp. The figures shouted and pointed at him; they ran back and forth. As he neared, Del could see that they were teen-aged boys. Scouts, probably, or maybe an Outward Bound group. Odd that they wouldn’t be back in school by now, but perhaps it was a trip their school had sanctioned. Schools seemed to be more encouraging about such things these days, Del reflected. He paddled up to the shore. A semi-circle of grimy, grim-faced boys greeted him as he climbed out of his canoe and pulled it onto the rocky beach. “Hey there,” Del said. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out here this time of year. ” And then, noticing that the boys seemed unusually disheveled and anxious, he asked, “Everything OK? ” The boys exchanged nervous glances but did not immediately reply. “Where’s your leader? ” Del asked. “Gone,” said one of the younger boys, who looked to be around thirteen. “One of them is,” another, older boy quickly interjected. “One of the leaders is lost. He walked into the woods and hasn’t come back. But Ben is still here. Ben is in camp. ” Del was in guide mode now, his attitude one of professional concern. “Lost? How long has he been missing? ” “Four days,” the older boy replied. He was about sixteen, stocky and plain, with limp brown hair and a bloom of acne across his cheeks. “We’ve been waiting for him. In case he comes back. But you should talk to Ben. I’ll take you to him. ”

His first day on the water was glorious. The weather was clear, warm, and dry, a true Indian summer. The hordes of black flies and mosquitoes that had plagued him throughout June and July had mostly receded. And the wind was exquisite: just light enough to feel its touch on the face without seeing its effects on the water. His canoe glided effortlessly across the glassy surface, propelled by a body that was as fit for purpose as it would be all year. That night, as he ate reconstituted beef stroganoff beside a roaring campfire, stars faintly visible through the shadowy branches of white pines, Del was suffused by a quiet happiness.

Del followed the boy into the clearing where the group had struck camp. There was a blackened fire ring, a scattering of drab green nylon tents. A pile of scavenged firewood. And a heavy package suspended from a tree, wrapped in a blue tarp — doubtlessly their food, hung out of the reach of bears. Del noted this approvingly: It was good practice to not leave food sitting on the ground. “My name is Bo,” the boy said as they walked. “I’ve been helping Ben. Taking care of him. He’s not doing so great. Kind of falling apart, you know? ” “Sure,” Del said. There was something strange and unpleasant about the way the boy talked, a little too fast and insistent. But who was Del to judge? Over the years, he had seen people respond to stress in different ways, and the boys were in a tough situation. It was a good thing, he thought, that he had come along when he did. “How many of you are there? ” he asked. “Nine of us including Ben. ” “And everyone else is doing OK, no injuries or other problems? ” “Yeah, we’re OK,” Bo said. “Here, this is Ben. ” They had arrived at a corner of the camp where a slim young man was sitting on a log. Another boy around Bo’s age was standing next to him, keeping an eye on him, Del supposed. It was obvious that the man, Ben, was not doing well. He was wearing expensive and stylish outdoor clothing — the tags from REI were probably still attached — but his posture was slumped and his expression, pained. Ben glanced up briefly as Del and Bo approached but then immediately shifted his gaze, reluctant to look either of them in the face. Bo walked over to Ben and helped him to his feet. Still keeping an arm around the taller man to support him, Bo said in a heartening voice, “Look, Ben. This man was passing by. I told him that Alex is lost. I told him that we’re waiting here for him. ” Ben flinched at the mention of Alex’s name and stared up at Del, grief-stricken. Del was taken aback at how clearly unfit the man was to be leading a group in the wilderness. Losing someone was stressful, sure. But moping around like this wasn’t going to help matters — especially not with eight boys in need of adult supervision and guidance. Del realized that he was going to have to take command of the situation. “Hi, I’m Del,” he said, extending his hand. Ben shook it limply. “I’m a guide here, I can help you. Why don’t you tell me what happened? ” Ben glanced at Bo, who nodded and smiled at him. “Go ahead,” said Bo. “You should tell him. He can help us. ” Ben hesitated. He swallowed and then began speaking carefully, as though picking his way through a bog. “OK,” he said. “There were ten of us. Alex — Alex planned the trip. We got here on Tuesday. The plan was to make camp here for a few days. Do some bible study. It’s a church trip. ” Del nodded, encouraging him to go on. “We made camp here and then Alex… and then Alex…” Ben choked on a sob and buried his face in his hands. Bo put a comforting hand on his shoulder and looked at Del as if to say, The poor man. What a shame. “Hey there, it’s going to be alright,” Del said. “Alex disappeared, is that it? Went into the woods and didn’t come back? ” Ben, sniffling, only nodded. “Got it. Do you have a radio? Have you reported his disappearance? ” Ben shook his head no. “That’s OK,” Del continued, “I can do that for you. Why don’t you tell me a little more about Alex — what does he look like? Do you remember what he was wearing? ” Del’s attention was focused on Ben but he noticed Bo and the other boy, the one who had been keeping an eye on Ben, exchange a significant glance. Bo nodded and jerked his head toward the camp and the other boy walked away. Maybe they wanted to give Ben some privacy. It was damned embarrassing, the way the man was carrying on. Del would have been embarrassed by it, anyway. As for Bo, Del decided that his initial appraisal had been unjust. Clearly he was a good kid, doing his best to keep things together. “I can tell you about Alex,” Bo said, apparently concluding that the ask was too much for the shell of a man at his side. “He was tall. Six-foot-one. Dark hair. Brown eyes. He had a tattoo on his back. A cross. He was wearing khaki pants. A black t-shirt. Hiking boots. ” “Good,” Del said, “that helps. Did he say anything about where he was going? ” “I think he just wanted to look around,” Bo said. Ben stared miserably at the ground during this exchange. Del guessed that Ben was twenty-six or twenty-seven, although obviously immature for his age. He was a white guy, very pale, with delicate features and curly brown hair that in Del’s opinion could use a cut. But come on, you’re being too hard on him, Del chided himself. It’s not like he asked for this. Not his fault that his friend walked off. “What was Alex’s last name? ” Del asked. “Aranda,” said Bo. “OK,” Del said, “I’m going to try to radio this in. We’ll get some help headed this way, then we can figure out what to do next. ” Del walked back through the camp toward his beached canoe. But it was not where he had left it; instead, he found a knot of boys shouting and pointing toward the water. Apparently his boat had drifted away and one of the boys was in another canoe trying to retrieve it. Del watched in horror as the clumsy boy lunged and pawed at the boat, ultimately succeeding in capsizing it. If Del had not spent the past ten years as a professional guide, exposed to incompetence of every type, he might have suspected that the boy had done it deliberately. But there seemed to be plenty of incompetence in this camp to go around. Del borrowed another canoe, paddled the short distance out to his own, and arduously towed it back to shore using a piece of cord he kept in his vest for various emergencies. The boy who had capsized it followed behind him, apologizing profusely. It was not a total loss. Del had packed most of his food and gear in dry bags and lashed them securely to the boat. He still had his clothes, his food, his water filter and canteens, and his tent. But the bag that contained his emergency radio and a few other pieces of gear, like his blue steel hatchet, was missing. It must have come loose and sunk to the bottom of the lake — inconvenient, to say the least. After draining and inventorying his canoe, Del dragged it high onto the beach, as he should have done the first time around. The boys stood around watching him closely, but saying nothing. They all seemed a little off to Del; a little out of sorts. Not that he could blame them: four days alone in the woods with Ben would be hell on the nerves. Hopefully he could get them out of there quickly. “Where is Bo? ” he asked. The boys pointed back toward the camp. Bo and Ben were now standing next to the fire circle, the man still leaning on the boy for support. Del addressed them both out of courtesy, but his words were directed toward Bo, whom he recognized as the one who was actually in charge. “So,” he said, “bad news. I lost my radio in the lake. I’m going to have to paddle back to get help. I can go much faster if I go by myself. Will you all be OK here for a couple more days? It seems like you have plenty of food? ” He looked at the bundle hanging from the tree. Ben followed his gaze, then made a retching sound and collapsed to his knees. “Ben, are you alright? ” Bo asked with concern, lifting the man’s chin and looking anxiously into his eyes. Ben nodded and stumbled back to his feet. “He’ll be fine,” Bo told Del. “We’ll take care of him. We have plenty to eat. ” “Do you need any matches or other supplies? ” “No,” said Bo, “I think we have everything we need. ” “In that case I’m going to get going. Stay right where you are, OK? Don’t go anywhere, or I might not be able to find you again. I’ll come back with help. ” “We’ll stay right here,” said Bo. Del walked back to his canoe. With some hard paddling he could reach the ranger station by the following morning, he thought. But it would take at least until the next day to get back to the camp. Two more nights — the boys should be able to manage until then, shouldn’t they? They had made it four nights so far. Still, he would feel much better about leaving them with a capable adult in charge. He heard a commotion behind him and turned in surprise to see Bo and Ben grappling with each other, the frail man suddenly possessed of a manic energy. Bo was trying to restrain him, but Ben pushed the boy to the ground and began sprinting toward Del and his boat. “Take me with you! ” he screamed. “Take me with you! ” Del, perplexed, prepared to resist. But in an instant, his understanding of the situation changed. He saw Bo scramble to his feet and take something from one of the younger boys. It was a blue steel hatchet — Del’s hatchet. “Hurry! ” Del shouted. Ben threw himself into the canoe, then Del shoved it into the water and scrambled aboard. The wind was in their favor now, and they began moving away from the shore even before Del had picked up his paddle. Some of the boys picked up rocks and threw them angrily at the boat, but they all went wide and soon the canoe was out of reach. “Fuck you, Ben! ” one of the boys cried hoarsely, and Del could see tears streaming down his cheeks.

Del had expected Bo to come after Ben with the hatchet, but now he realized that Bo had never given chase. Instead, he was standing under the food package, hacking away at the tarp. What is he doing? Del wondered, and because they were a safe distance from the shore now, he stilled his paddle in the water to watch. Ben did not share his curiosity. All of the energy that Ben had summoned to make his escape had drained away, and now he huddled in the canoe in a fetal position, his eyes clamped shut. Bo turned and shouted at the boat. “Hey Ben! Say goodbye to Alex! ” Del looked on in disbelief as the tarp fell away to reveal a suspended body. The face was beaten beyond recognition, the dark hair matted with blood. But Del could see clearly that it was the body of a man wearing khaki pants, a black t-shirt, and hiking boots. * * * Del returned two days later with a dozen sheriff’s deputies, but by then the boys were gone. The body was gone, too, although there was enough blood at the scene to match it to Alex Aranda. A helicopter flew search patterns over the area continuously for the next five days, but no trace of the boys was found. Ben did not say much to Del on the way back to civilization, and Del did not press him. Del began quietly forming an idea of what had happened at that horrifying campsite, and his suspicions weren’t wrong. One of the deputies later told Del that Ben had pleaded ignorance. He had no idea that Alex was abusing that boy, not until the rest of the group confronted him, he said. Alex was his friend, yes, his best friend since childhood, but never would he have condoned that kind of behavior. Del sincerely doubted that, not that anyone asked him for his opinion. His own eyewitness statement was a straightforward recounting of what he heard and saw. He did not describe the contempt he felt for Ben, which grew over the twenty-four hours they spent alone together. The man was incapable of doing anything other than snivel. It was absurd to think that such a weak personality would have raised any objection to evil that did not personally inconvenience him, especially if it involved a friend. But again, no one asked Del what he thought. The interrogations wrapped up a week after the search effort. Del packed up his truck and took his leave of law enforcement. They might need to talk to him again, they said. He might be called to testify at trial, although it was unclear, at this point, who would go on trial or when. That would be fine, he told them, he would do whatever he needed to. But he did not think he would be returning to the Boundary Waters for another season.