Page 88 of Uncharted

“No, that was Mitch, the engineer.”

“Right, I knew that,” I say.

“Okay, so anything we find in these two rooms at least narrows it down to the four of them. Waldo was quiet. I don’t think I got two words out of him the entire time we were on board. Not that I had much time for socializing.”

“Right, same. Okay, you take the bottom and I’ll do the top bunk.” There isn’t much. A bunch of dirty socks inside the sheets which, after being left there for months, have developed quite an odor.

We’re through. I even pull the lid to the tank of the toilet back in each of the rooms, but there’s nothing in them but stale water.

“I think we can call the first room,” Haley says.

“I agree.”

The next room is a lot more of the same. I pull the sheets back, and between the mattress and the wall is a stash of magazines. I try to push them back, but Haley catches sight of them.

“If I had to shake out Shayla’s underwear, you can pull out the deckhand’s dirty magazines.”

When I pull out the first magazine, two pictures flutter to the floor.

Haley bends. “What are those?”

It’s two black and white photos. One is of a girl in her early twenties, with dark hair. She’s sitting on a bed, the kind you might find in a summer camp you don’t want to be at. A cross hangs on the wall behind her. The other photo is of the back of a girl wearing a backpack. It might be college, boarding school, or even a high school. It’s hard to say.

Haley looks at me. “This is weird. Are these old pictures? I mean, who has black and white pictures anymore? Unless you’re trying to be artsy?”

“If this is art, then so is boxed mac and cheese.” I shudder.

“Maybe it’s some sort of photography contest?”

“For the worst photo? This one’s barely in focus.” I tap the picture of the girl on the bed. “And this one? What the heck is it even of?”

Haley cocks her head. “Are they the same girl?”

“I don’t know. With them being black and white, it’s hard to tell. They could be. But they’re modern. Look at the clothes and the backpacks. That guy is wearing one of those Only Good Vibes T-shirts that are really popular right now. Or at least they were popular when we left.”

“Did Waldo, Ryder, Daxton, or Mitch have a girlfriend?” she asks.

“Hell if I know. But these pictures say ‘I’m a stalker’ more than ‘I’m going to ask you for a date.’”

Haley nods. “Yeah.”

“Let’s see what else is around.” I shake the rest of the magazines, but nothing else comes out. Then we search through both rooms again. We find an address book under the frame of the built-in bed.

“Whose is it?” Haley asks.

The front page lists Waldo’s name and his 207 phone number. “Waldo. I didn’t think Waldo was from Maine?”

“Why do you think he’s from Maine? Oh, wait, the area code. That makes sense.” She taps the front page, where Waldo has his number printed in sloppy handwriting.

“That makes a bunch of the crew from or tied to Maine: Anders, Waldo, Mitch, and Daxton. How weird is that? Plus, I think Easton lived in Maine for a while too.” I flip through the book, but there’s nothing else of value. There are stars next to girls’ names and some detailed notes of what they are willing to do. It’s nothing but the desperation of a twenty-three-year-old dude-bro who clearly doesn’t know the value of a relationship and has never had a quality woman in his life. You don’t rate women in a book. Not without having it come back to haunt you. That shit needs to be locked up tight. But the Maine thing tumbles through my head.

“I was hoping we would find something more. Besides some photos and a phone book.”

“Yeah, me too.” I close the address book. “We should put this with Rocky’s notebook. Maybe Zane can find a correlation between one of these phone numbers and something Rocky has written down.”

“Yes. But do you really think ‘Janie five star wow, wow’ has anything to do with Rocky’s notebook?”

“No. You never know, though. Maybe Janie is into some weird shit.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

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