The sun was barely breaking through the heavy clouds hanging over the mountain slopes of Oregon as two Hunter brothers, Jason and Mike Harris, slowly made their way along a trail deep in Mount Hood National Forest, about 12 mi from popular tourist routes.

On October 23rd, 2025, the autumn forest was ablaze with gold and crimson.

The damp smell of decaying leaves filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine needles and moss.

Something’s not right here, Jason muttered as his foot caught on a metal object almost completely hidden under a layer of fallen leaves and soil.

No one could have predicted that this chance discovery, an old frigid air refrigerator, would shake the small town of Silver Creek and bring back to life a case that had broken the hearts of many local residents 9 years earlier.

9 years and five months ago on May 17th, 2016, in this same forest, but closer to the eastern entrance to the national park, 15-year-old Nicole Meyers disappeared.

That day began as a routine school trip, one of dozens held each spring for Silver Creek High School students.

It was a day when 22 students and three adults set out to study the local flora under the guidance of Mr.

Collins, a biology teacher.

However, only 21 students returned home.

Nicole was last seen alive at lunchtime when she separated from the group to photograph a rare species of fern for her school botany project.

The petite, slender girl with long brown hair braided into a ponytail and a khaki backpack slung over one shoulder disappeared into the dense vegetation as if she had vanished into thin air.

2 hours and 15 minutes later, when the group was supposed to return to the bus, panic set in.

No one could find Nicole.

Her phone wasn’t answering, and loud calls went unanswered.

With each passing minute, the fog descended lower, enveloping the mountain slopes in an eerie, milky savannah.

The temperature was dropping rapidly, and the wind was picking up, rustling the crowns of century old spruce and pine trees, as if whispering ominous premonitions.

The large-scale search operation that unfolded in the following hours and then days and weeks became one of the largest in the history of Clackamus County.

Hundreds of rangers, police officers, and volunteers combed mile after mile of green hell.

Helicopters flew over the forest and search dogs tried to pick up the trail.

The only things they found were Nicole’s backpack with her camera from which the memory card had mysteriously disappeared and an uneaten peanut butter sandwich.

The trail ended at a small stream about a third of a mile from the main hiking trail.

The dogs lost the scent on a rock protruding from the water.

After the rains the day before, the stream was turbulent but shallow, only a foot or two deep.

Could Nicole have slipped and drowned? or had someone kidnapped her? Or as some locals whispered, was someone close to her responsible for the tragedy? Nicole’s mother, Linda Meyers, a nurse at the local clinic, had aged 10 years during the week-long search.

Her stepfather, Brandon Meyers, an experienced forester, combed the woods day and night with search teams, refusing to believe that the girl could have simply disappeared.

My daughter knows these woods.

She couldn’t have gotten lost.

Something happened.

Something terrible, Linda Meyers said with a trembling voice at a press conference held on the 10th day of the search.

With each passing day, hopes of finding Nicole alive melted like snow under the spring sun.

After a month of intensive searching, the operation was officially called off, leaving only a few patrols to periodically survey the most remote parts of the forest.

Mount Hood Forest gradually returned to its original tranquility.

Spring flowers bloomed, birds raised their chicks, and ants built their underground palaces.

Nature is indifferent to human tragedies.

It continues its eternal cycle, oblivious to the tears of the mother, the despair of the stepfather, and the pain of the younger brother.

For nine long years, this story remained one of those scary legends that locals use to frighten children.

Don’t go into the forest alone.

Remember what happened to that girl? No one could have imagined that an ordinary October day in 2025 would once again send shivers of horror through the entire town when the remains of a human body began to be removed from a rusty refrigerator hidden in the thicket.

Wrapped in a school jacket with the Silver Creek school emblem, Nicole Meyers always stood out among the other teenagers in Silver Creek.

At 15, she had a serious, almost adult look in her brown eyes that seemed deeper and wiser than those of many of her teachers.

Short, thin, with long brown hair that she usually wore in a simple braid, she never followed fashion, preferring comfortable jeans, flannel shirts, and heavy boots.

practical clothing suitable for her endless walks in the woods.

She was like she wasn’t from this world, recalled Sarah Jenkins, her literature teacher.

She wrote poems about mosses and lychans when other girls her age were writing about love and celebrities.

She seemed to understand the language of the forest better than the language of her peers.

According to her classmates, Nicole rarely participated in social events, avoiding noisy parties and popular places where teenagers gathered.

Lisa Carter, who sat next to her in biology class, recalls, “She always seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.

She could spend hours examining the structure of a leaf or a pine needle.

The only thing that really fascinated her besides plants was photography.

” Nicole received her first camera on her 13th birthday, a gift from her mother and stepfather.

From that day on, she always carried it with her, capturing the smallest details of nature, dew drops on spiderweb, patterns on the bark of old trees, shadows from branches on the forest floor.

“She often showed me her photos,” said Linda Meyers, Nicole’s mother, wiping away tears during one of many interviews after her daughter’s disappearance.

She said she wanted to create an atlas of all the plants in our region.

She dreamed of going to college to study ecology or botany.

Nicole’s family lived in a small but cozy wooden house on the outskirts of Silver Creek, just a mile and a half from the edge of the national forest.

Linda worked as a nurse at a local clinic, often taking night shifts.

Her current husband, Brandon Meyers, served as a forest ranger in the same Mount Hood National Park where Nicole later disappeared.

They married when Nicole was 10, and since then she has gone by her stepfather’s last name.

Brandon had a reputation for being strict but fair, tall and wiry, with a face tanned from constant outdoor exposure and a thick beard already showing signs of gray.

He could seem rude and uncou.

However, his colleagues spoke of him as a dedicated professional who knew every trail and every tree in his patrol area.

9-year-old Kyle, Linda, and Brandon’s only son adored his older sister.

According to his mother’s recollections, he always wanted to go on walks with her, asking her to show him the secret places she found in the forest.

Nicole was always patient with him, Linda recalled.

She taught him to distinguish animal tracks, recognize edible berries, and find the best spots for photos.

He was devastated when she disappeared.

Nicole spent the last week before the fateful school trip in her usual rhythm.

School, solo walks in the woods, evenings spent reading books on botany.

However, as her loved ones later recalled, something in her behavior had changed.

She became even more withdrawn, almost obsessed with her camera and her upcoming botany project.

She hardly ever left her room, Linda said.

She was always reading, researching, taking notes on rare species of ferns she hoped to find on the school trip.

Her classmate Jake Thompson recalled a minor conflict that occurred 3 days before the trip.

The guys and I were joking around with her in the cafeteria, calling her the forest witch because she was always carrying around some herbs and mosses.

Nothing serious, just typical teenage teasing.

But she suddenly got very angry, almost yelling at us that we didn’t understand anything and couldn’t see anything.

It was strange because she usually just ignored such jokes.

The day before the trip, Nicole was busy preparing her equipment until late at night.

She cleaned the camera lens, recharged the batteries, and checked the memory card.

Brandon, her stepfather, came into her room around 10:00 in the evening.

A strange conversation took place between them, which later caught the attention of investigators.

He insisted that she take his old hunting knife with her, Linda later recounted.

He said that the forest becomes dangerous in the spring when animals raise their young and become aggressive.

I heard them arguing.

Nicole didn’t want to take the knife, saying it was a school trip with teachers, not a solo expedition into the woods.

But Brandon was very insistent.

I didn’t think much of it at the time.

He was always overly cautious when it came to the woods.

According to her younger brother, Kyle, he heard Nicole talking to someone on the phone for a long time that night.

Her voice sounded agitated, almost frightened.

I think she said something about seeing something she shouldn’t have seen,” the boy recalled during one of the interrogations.

However, given his young age and emotional state after his sister’s disappearance, investigators were skeptical of this testimony.

On the morning of May 17th, Nicole woke up earlier than everyone else at 5:30 a.

m.

She made her own breakfast, packed her backpack, and left a note on the refrigerator.

Mom, I left early because I want to take some sunrise photos before the hike.

Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.

Love, Nicole.

According to the school bus driver, Nicole was one of the first to arrive at the meeting place.

She seemed focused, even tense, but not anxious.

She was wearing blue jeans, a green flannel shirt, a light brown jacket with the Silver Creek School logo, and sturdy hiking boots.

Her khaki backpack was stuffed to the brim with a camera, a notebook, a bottle of water, food, spare batteries, and a botany reference book.

Only after her disappearance during a search of her room were strange notes found written in her hand in the margins of an Oregon plant guide.

Next to the description of a rare species of fern that grows only in certain shady, damp areas of the forest, Nicole wrote in red marker, “Check the coordinates.

Maybe it’s the key.

” No one could explain what these words meant or how an ordinary fern could be a key.

On the morning of May 17th, 2016, Nicole Meyers, a 15-year-old reclusive girl with a passion for botany and photography, boarded the school bus with the other students, setting off on a hike from which she would never return.

And only now, 9 years later, an old rusty refrigerator found by hunters in a remote part of the forest began to reveal the chilling truth about what really happened that spring day.

On May 17th, 2016, at 7:30 a.

m.

, the yellow Silver Creek High School bus left the school parking lot.

Inside were 22 students and three adult chaperones.

Mr.

Collins, the biology teacher, Miss Peterson, the school nurse, and Mr.

Gibson, a parent who volunteered to help organize the trip.

This spring biology trip had been a school tradition for over 15 years.

Every spring, Mr.

Collins, a tall, thin man with graying temples and a passion for nature, took his students on a field trip to Mount Hood National Forest to study the local ecosystem during its most active period of awakening after winter.

The weather was perfect for hiking, Mr.

Collins later recalled, nervously ringing his hands during questioning.

Clear skies, a temperature of around 70° Fahrenheit, a light morning breeze.

The forecast promised a sunny day.

Nothing foreshadowed trouble.

The bus arrived at the east entrance to the national forest at 8:45 a.

m.

The students, full of enthusiasm, jumped out of the bus one after another, laughing loudly and calling out to each other.

Nicole, according to witnesses, was more focused and reserved than usual.

She stood slightly apart from the group, adjusting her camera, checking the batteries and memory card.

She seemed nervous, but I thought she was just excited about her research project, recalled Emily Williams, her classmate.

Nicole kept checking her backpack as if she was afraid of forgetting something.

At 9:00, the group set off along the main hiking trail leading deep into the forest.

Mr.

Collins walked in front, Mr.

Gibson in the middle of the group, and Ms.

Peterson brought up the rear.

The students were given maps and compasses, although no one expected them to be needed.

The route was well- definfined and had been traveled many times in previous years.

The first part of the day passed without incident.

The group stopped several times to study different types of plants.

Mr.

Collins talked about the ecological features of Mount Hood Forest and the students took notes and photographs for their projects.

Nicole was extremely interested in mosses and ferns.

Mr.

Collins recalled.

She would constantly stray a few steps away from the group to photograph some interesting specimen, but never more than 10 or 15 ft away.

I kept her in my sight at all times.

At noon, the group stopped on a clearing near a small stream for lunch.

Everyone spread out their blankets and took out their packed lunch boxes.

The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful.

The sun was high in the sky.

Birds were singing in the treetops, and the air was filled with the sense of pine needles, wild flowers, and damp earth.

According to her classmates, during lunch, Nicole sat a little apart, busily writing something in her notebook.

From time to time, she looked into the distance as if searching for something among the trees.

She ate only half of her sandwich, although she usually had a good appetite, especially during hikes.

At 1:30 p.

m.

, the group continued on their route.

At this point, they were already almost 3 mi from their starting point.

The trail became narrower, the forest denser, and the slopes steeper.

At around 200 p.

m.

, the sky began to cloud over.

At first, they were light, feathery, almost imperceptible.

But gradually, the sun began to hide.

The shadows in the forest became deeper, and the air became cooler.

I asked Mr.

Collins if we should turn back because of the change in weather.

Mr.

Gibson later recounted, but he said that a little rain or fog was normal for this time of year and that we would still be back at the bus long before the weather really turned bad.

At 2:20 p.

m.

, the group reached a fork in the trail.

The right fork branched off and climbed upward to a lookout point.

The left fork descended to a stream where, according to Mr.

Collins, rare species of aquatic plants could be found.

I divided the class into two groups, the teacher recalled.

The first group, about 15 students, went with me and Mr.

Gibson to the observation deck.

The second, smaller group of seven students, including Nicole, went with Miss Peterson to the stream.

We agreed to meet at the same place in 30 minutes.

At 2:30 p.

m.

, when Miss Peterson’s group reached the stream and spread out along the bank to make their observations, the weather began to deteriorate rapidly.

The wind picked up, swaying the treetops.

The temperature dropped several degrees.

Fog began to descend from the western side of the mountain, enveloping the forest in an eerie gray shroud.

“At first, it was just a light haze,” Miss Peterson said, barely holding back tears during the interrogation.

But within 15 minutes, it turned into a thick milky veil.

Visibility was reduced to 30 or 40 ft.

I told the children to stay close together.

It was at that moment that Nicole Meyers, who was standing on a rock in the middle of the stream, photographing moss on a fallen tree, saw something that caught her attention.

According to Rebecca Stern, her classmate who was standing closest to her.

Nicole suddenly straightened up, pointed her camera toward the thick fern growth on the opposite bank, and began taking pictures with obvious excitement.

She looked like she had seen a ghost, Rebecca recalled.

Her hands were shaking as she took the pictures.

Then she shouted to me, “I found it.

It’s the rare species I read about.

” And jumped to another rock, getting closer to the opposite bank.

Ms.

Peterson was busy with other students at that moment who were complaining about the sudden deterioration of the weather and wanted to return.

She noticed that Nicole had moved a little further away, but was still within sight, so she wasn’t worried.

“The last thing I saw was her carefully jumping from rock to rock across the stream, holding her camera high above the water,” the teacher said.

Her figure was already a little blurred by the fog.

I shouted at her not to go too far and she waved back at me.

That was the last time I saw her.

When Miss Peterson gathered the group at 2:45 p.

m.

to return to the meeting point, she noticed that Nicole was not among the students.

She asked Rebecca where Nicole was, and the girl pointed in the direction of the opposite bank, already completely hidden in the fog.

We started calling her, recalled Justin Moore, another student in the group.

first quietly, then louder and louder.

But there was no answer.

Only the wind rustled in the branches, and the water gurgled over the rocks.

Miss Peterson initially decided that Nicole simply couldn’t hear them because of the noise of the wind and water and continued her search along the shore.

She instructed the rest of the students to stay where they were, holding hands so that no one else would get lost in the fog.

The teacher herself carefully crossed the stream trying to find traces of Nicole on the other side, but the fog was so thick that she could only see a few steps ahead of her.

I kept calling, but all I heard was the echo of my own voice,” Miss Peterson recalled.

“At one point, I thought I heard the crackling of branches somewhere ahead and to my right.

But when I went in that direction, I found nothing.

” After 15 minutes of fruitless searching, Miss Peterson decided to return to the rest of the group and quickly go to the meeting place with Mr.

Collins to organize a full-scale search with more people.

Then Miss Peterson, with six students, but without Nicole, returned to the fork in the path.

Mr.

Collins and Mr.

Gibson, with the other group, were already waiting for them, concerned about the delay and the worsening weather.

Upon hearing of Nicole’s disappearance, Mr.

Collins immediately organized a search.

He divided everyone into pairs, instructing them to call out for the girl and not to stray more than 20 ft from the main trail.

Mr.

Gibson ran back to the stream where Nicole was last seen with the three most physically fit students.

Miss Peterson stayed at the fork with the rest of the group so that Nicole could find them if she decided to return there.

By 4:00, the search had been unsuccessful and the weather continued to deteriorate.

The fog grew thicker, a light rain began to fall, and the wind grew stronger and colder.

The temperature dropped to nearly 50° F.

At 4:20 p.

m.

, Mr.

Collins decided that most of the group needed to be evacuated immediately, especially since several students were lightly dressed and already beginning to shiver from the cold.

He sent Mr.

Gibson and 19 students back to the bus, instructing the driver to immediately call for rescue workers and the police.

He himself, along with Miss Peterson and two older students, Ryan Mitchell and Brenda Fischer, who volunteered to help and were dressed appropriately for the bad weather, continued the search.

At 4:45 p.

m.

, as the search party was returning in complete darkness and with no results, Ryan Mitchell found Nicole’s backpack.

It was lying at the foot of a small slope about a 100 yards from the stream, partially hidden under a pile of wet leaves.

The backpack was open.

The camera was not inside, but its empty case was lying nearby.

This discovery only increased Mr.

Collins’s anxiety.

It was obvious that something had happened to Nicole.

She would never have voluntarily left her precious camera or backpack behind.

Later, the first rescuers arrived.

two national park rangers on ATVs equipped with search gear.

20 minutes after them, two police cars arrived.

At 6:00 p.

m.

, Linda and Brandon Meyers, Nicole’s parents, arrived at the scene of her disappearance, summoned by the school administration.

I will never forget the look on Linda’s face when she was shown her daughter’s backpack.

Mr.

Collins later recalled it was the look of someone who had looked into the abyss and realized that her worst fears might come true.

Night fell on Mount Hood, enveloping it in a black abyss, swallowing the last rays of hope of finding Nicole alive and unharmed.

No one could have imagined then that her secret would remain buried among the silent trees for the next 9 years until a chance discovery would slowly reveal the truth about what happened on that foggy spring day.

At dawn on May 18th, 2016, Mount Hood National Forest was filled with sounds rarely heard in its ancient wilderness.

The voices of dozens of people calling out through the thick undergrowth, the barking of search dogs, the roar of helicopters above the treetops, the crackle of walkie-talkies, and the rustle of hundreds of feet on the damp forest floor.

By morning, Clackamus County Police Chief Michael Donovan had launched one of the largest search operations in the region’s history.

More than 70 National Forest Rangers and police officers lined up to comb the area.

They were joined by more than 120 volunteers from nearby towns, many of whom came as soon as they heard the news of the girl’s disappearance.

“The first 48 hours are critical in wilderness disappearances,” Chief Donovan explained to reporters during an impromptu briefing at the command post.

“We have deployed all available resources.

Every minute counts.

” The thick morning fog slowly dissipated under the rays of the rising sun, revealing the majestic slopes and valleys of Mount Hood Forest.

The tops of the fur and pine trees glistened with drops of yesterday’s rain.

The ground was wet and soft, perfect for footprints, if there were any.

To coordinate the search, the area was divided into squares, each one square mile in size.

Teams of five to seven people methodically combed each square, slowly moving from Nicole’s last known location, the stream where she had been photographing ferns.

Six pairs of search dogs, specially trained to find people, sniffed a school jacket taken from Nicole’s home to pick up her scent.

But the dogs were behaving strangely.

They picked up the scent from the girl’s backpack to the stream, then circled around the rocks where she had taken the photos and finally lost the scent, whining and refusing to go any further.

“This is unusual,” commented Rick Summers, a dog handler with 15 years of experience.

“It’s as if she just vanished into thin air or something confused her trail.

” Helicopters hovered over the search area, but their effectiveness was severely limited.

The dense forest canopy, mighty spruce trees, and ancient redwoods whose crowns formed an almost continuous green roof made visual searches difficult and rendered the use of thermal imaging cameras nearly impossible.

We can only see about 30% of the forest floor, reported the search helicopter pilot.

There are too many blind spots.

By noon, the search teams had found a few minor clues.

A handkerchief possibly belonging to Nicole 50 yard from where her backpack was found.

A footprint of the right size in a marshy area 100 yard further on.

A broken branch with signs of recent damage.

But the most significant find was Nicole’s camera.

It was found under a pile of wet leaves about 200 yd from the stream in the opposite direction from where the backpack was found.

The lens cap was missing and the strap was torn.

When police technicians examined the camera, they found that the memory card was empty, even though, according to her classmates, Nicole had taken dozens of photos throughout the day.

“Could the memory card have malfunctioned due to moisture?” asked the investigator.

“Unlikely,” replied the technician.

“Even if water had gotten inside, the data could have been recovered.

This is different.

The card has been completely wiped, as if someone had deliberately deleted all the files.

On the third day of the search, the teams found a trail leading to a small cave formed by fallen trees and boulders about half a mile from the stream.

Inside was a halfeaten sandwich wrapped in foil with a small inscription NM in the corner, exactly the same one that Linda Meyers had prepared for her daughter on the morning of her disappearance.

She may have been looking for shelter from the rain, the rescuers speculated.

But then why did she go further? Linda Meyers, Nicole’s mother, hardly left the command post.

Exhausted from insomnia, her eyes red from crying, she stared at every face that returned from the forest, looking for a ray of hope.

“My girl knows these woods,” she repeated over and over.

“She’s smart.

She’ll find her way back.

Brandon Meyers, Nicole’s stepfather, was actively involved in the search.

An experienced forester, he led one of the volunteer groups, combing the most remote and inaccessible areas.

He returned only for a short rest, then disappeared into the woods again for hours.

On the fifth day of the search, investigators began to form different versions of Nicole’s disappearance.

The first and most obvious was an accident.

The girl could have slipped on wet rocks, fallen into a stream, and been carried away by the current.

However, a thorough examination of the stream a mile downstream revealed no traces.

The second version was an attack by a wild animal.

Black bears and cougars live in the forests of Mount Hood.

However, the absence of traces of a struggle and blood at the sight of the disappearance reduced the likelihood of this version.

The third version is that Nicole deliberately ran away from home, but everyone who knew the girl categorically denied this possibility.

She was a devoted daughter, a good student, and had no serious problems at school or at home.

And finally, the fourth version, which investigators initially discussed only in whispers, is kidnapping.

Mount Hood National Forest, despite its popularity with tourists, had fairly remote areas where a person could be hidden.

We are considering all possible scenarios, Chief Donovan commented cautiously.

No version is ruled out.

On the seventh day of the search, Detective Rachel Morgan, who was leading the criminal aspect of the investigation, began to notice certain inconsistencies in Brandon Meyer’s testimony.

He claimed that on the day of Nicole’s disappearance, he was in the northern part of the park with other rangers conducting a routine inspection of the area.

However, one of the rangers recalled that Brandon had been away for several hours, explaining that he needed to check a report of an illegal campfire.

“Where exactly were you between 2 and 6:00 p.

m.

on May 17th?” Mr.

Meyers, Detective Morgan asked during an informal conversation.

“I told you I was checking a report of a fire in sector B7,” Brandon replied, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Maybe I stayed longer than I planned.

Why are you asking about this? You should be looking for my daughter, not interrogating me.

When Detective Morgan persisted, Brandon snapped.

Do you seriously think I could have harmed Nicole? She’s my daughter.

I adopted her when I married Linda.

I raised her as my own for 5 years.

However, suspicions were quickly dispelled when senior ranger Alex Harrison confirmed that Brandon had indeed been checking sector B7, which was about 10 mi from where Nicole disappeared.

Moreover, forest ranger Ray Hawkins also testified that he had met Brandon in that sector at around 400 p.

m.

an hour and a half after Nicole was last seen.

Day after day passed, the number of search teams gradually decreased as the likelihood of finding the girl alive rapidly declined.

By the end of the second week, the active search was limited to professional rescuers and a small group of dedicated volunteers.

On the day that marked a month since her disappearance, Police Chief Donovan summoned Linda and Brandon Meyers to his office.

Detective Morgan and Ranger Captain Tom Welch were also seated at his desk.

“We’ve exhausted all resources,” Chief Donovan said slowly.

“We’ve combed through more than 50 square miles of territory.

We’ve used drones, helicopters, the best search dogs.

We’ve interviewed everyone who could have seen something.

” Linda trembled, knowing what he was going to say next.

“We are forced to officially call off the large-scale search operation.

” Donovan continued.

The case remains open.

Periodic patrols will continue, but large-scale searches, he paused.

We cannot continue them indefinitely.

You’re leaving my girl there, Linda whispered, her eyes dry.

She had cried all her tears in the past month.

“Mrs.

Meyers,” Detective Morgan said gently.

“We are not closing the investigation.

We will continue to follow every lead, but we have to be realistic about our chances.

Just then, Brandon Meyers, who had been silent throughout the conversation, suddenly stood up.

His face, weathered by wind and sun, seemed carved from stone.

“I won’t stop looking,” he said quietly but firmly.

Even if I’m alone, even if it takes a year, even if his voice trembled, but he controlled himself, even if I only find her remains, she deserves to be buried properly.

On June 17th, 2016, exactly 1 month after her disappearance, the official search for Nicole Meyers was called off.

The local newspaper, The Silver Creek Gazette, ran a small headline on page two.

Search for missing school girl officially called off.

The photo next to the headline showed a smiling Nicole in her Silver Creek school jacket with a camera around her neck.

Life in the small town gradually returned to its usual routine.

But for the Meyers family, time seemed to have stopped on May 17th, 2016 at 2:30 p.

m.

Spring came early to Oregon in 2025.

By midappril, the slopes of Mount Hood were covered with a bright green carpet of young grass and colorful patches of wild flowers.

Spruce and pine trees filled the air with the pungent scent of resin, and streams filled with meltwater murmured again in the valleys.

9 years had passed since Nicole Meyers disappeared in these woods.

nine years that changed not only the lives of her family, but also the entire small town of Silver Creek, which continued to live in the shadow of an unsolved mystery.

Linda Meyers no longer lived in the wooden house on the edge of the forest.

3 years after her daughter’s disappearance, she divorced Brandon and moved to Santa Barbara, California, where she found work as a nurse in a private clinic.

Locals learned that a year and a half ago she had remarried to a physician at the same clinic, Dr.

Alan Prescott.

“Linda is trying to start her life over,” said Martha Johnson, a former neighbor and close friend of the Meyers family.

She never talks about Nicole in the present tense, but she doesn’t use the past tense either.

It’s as if her daughter exists somewhere in a parallel dimension, neither alive nor dead.

Every year on May 17th, Linda would return to Silver Creek, not to meet her ex-husband or old acquaintances, but to attend the memorial ceremony that the local community organized in memory of Nicole.

She never spoke at these events, standing apart, wrapped in a shawl, even on warm days, wearing large sunglasses that hid her eyes.

After the ceremony, she would quietly place a bouquet of white liies, Nicole’s favorite flowers, near a small memorial plaque in the city park and drive back to the Portland airport.

Kyle Meyers, now 18, has grown up to resemble his missing sister.

The same penetrating gaze of brown eyes, the same frown between his eyebrows when deep in thought.

After graduating from the same high school Nicole attended, he enrolled at the University of Oregon to study ecology and forestry.

“I always felt like I had to finish what Nicole started,” he told a Silver Creek Gazette reporter in a brief interview before leaving for college.

“She loved the forest and plants so much.

I think it’s right to continue her work.

” Kyle rarely visited Silver Creek, but he kept in sporadic contact with Brandon, his father.

From time to time they went hiking together, not in the ominous Mount Hood Forest, but in other parts of Oregon.

On those days, they hardly spoke, just walking side by side, covering mile after mile, lost in their thoughts and memories.

Brandon Meyers, Nicole’s former stepfather and Kyle’s father, remained in Silver Creek, but no longer worked as a forest ranger.

He quit a year after Nicole disappeared, unable to enter the forest that had taken his adopted daughter.

“Now he lived in a small trailer on the northern outskirts of town, repairing boat motors in his own workshop in the backyard.

” “He’s changed,” said Ray Hawkins, Brandon’s former colleague at the Forest Service, and now one of the few people who still kept in touch with him.

“He’s become withdrawn, hardly talks to anyone.

He grew a beard down to his waist and lost weight.

Sometimes when I visit him, I see a backpack and equipment in the corner of the room as if he’s ready to set off on another search at any moment.

Ry didn’t talk about it openly, but people who were more familiar with the situation knew that Brandon regularly, once every few months, combed through remote parts of Mount Hood Forest on his own in search of any traces of Nicole.

For years, he studied maps, aerial photographs, and ranger reports.

looking for any anomalies, any unusual structures or signs of human presence in remote parts of the forest.

Several times he was found exhausted, showing signs of dehydration after days of continuous searching.

The changes affected not only Nicole’s family, Mr.

Collins, the biology teacher who led the fateful hike, retired 5 years earlier than planned.

Gray hair, deep wrinkles around his eyes, and incurable insomnia were the price he paid for the guilt that never left him.

“I failed to protect a student in my care,” he said at his retirement ceremony, barely holding back tears.

“I don’t deserve the right to teach children.

” He continued to live in Silver Creek in a small house near the school.

He was often seen sitting alone on a bench in the town park, watching the playful squirrels and listening to the birds chirping.

He never attended memorial services for Nicole, perhaps out of shame, perhaps out of fear of encountering accusatory glances.

Silver Creek High School itself had also changed.

Biology field trips to Mount Hood were no longer held, only in other safer and more open areas, and always with enhanced safety measures, mandatory GPS trackers for each student, constant radio communication, strict instructions not to wander off alone.

Mount Hood National Park introduced a special Nicole protocol for all school groups visiting the forest.

It included mandatory registration of each visitor, electronic tracking bracelets, constant supervision by at least two rangers per group, and a strict prohibition on leaving the main trails, even for a few steps.

We cannot bring Nicole back, said the park director at a press conference dedicated to the implementation of the new protocol.

But we can do everything to ensure that such a tragedy never happens again.

In the city itself, fear gradually faded, but not the memory.

Older residents still whispered to newcomers the story of the girl who disappeared in the forest.

Parents still warned their children, “Never go into the forest alone.

” And teenagers from the local school born after the tragedy still told each other scary fictional stories about the ghost of Nicole wandering the forest paths on foggy spring days.

Every year on May 17th at 2:30 p.

m.

, the time when Nicole was last seen, people gathered in Silver Creek City Park.

They read poems that Nicole herself had once written, lit candles, and at 4:45 p.

m.

, the moment her disappearance was discovered, observed a moment of silence.

The criminal case regarding Nicole Meyer’s disappearance remained officially open, but was effectively cold.

No new evidence or testimony had emerged in years.

Detective Rachel Morgan, who had been leading the investigation, had transferred to the Portland Police Department back in 2019.

Silver Creek, like most small towns, went on with its measured life.

Shops opened and closed.

Children were born.

Weddings and funerals were held.

The seasons changed.

Bright summer gave way to colorful autumn, followed by snowy winter, and then spring again with its abundance of colors and scents.

But every spring, when the fog descended on the slopes of Mount Hood, and the damp wind rustled in the treetops, the residents of Silver Creek involuntarily shuddered, remembering the girl who went to photograph ferns and never returned home.

On October 23rd, 2025, hunting season began in Mount Hood National Forest.

The crimson leaves of the maples and the golden crowns of the oaks blazed in the autumn sun.

The air was filled with a special aroma, a mixture of damp moss, decaying leaves, and pine resin.

Morning mists crept between the mountains, reluctantly retreating under the pressure of daylight.

Brothers Jason and Mike Harris left Silver Creek before dawn.

Their worn Ford pickup truck slowly climbed the forest road until it reached a small clearing on the northeast slope of the mountain.

It was the first day of their annual hunting weekend, a tradition that had been going on for more than 10 years.

This year, let’s go further east, suggested Jason, the older of the brothers, a 50-year-old owner of a small auto repair shop in Silver Creek.

Almost no one hunts in that sector.

Ranger Thompson said a large male deer was spotted there last month.

Mike, 3 years younger, nodded.

He wasn’t particularly fond of hunting, but he cherished these rare days alone with his brother in the wilderness.

A chance to get away from his job as a school math teacher.

By noon, the brothers had covered nearly 8 miles, venturing deeper into the increasingly wild and unexplored parts of the forest.

A compass and GPS navigator helped them stay on course, but the trail was becoming less and less visible, sometimes disappearing completely under piles of fallen leaves and pine needles.

“We’ve already strayed almost 4 miles from the trail,” Mike remarked, checking his GPS.

“It seems like no one ever walks here,” Jason just nodded, continuing to walk slowly forward, scanning the undergrowth intently for signs of game.

His Remington hunting rifle was slung over his shoulder and a hunting knife in a leather sheath hung from his belt.

Around 100 p.

m.

, the brothers stopped at a small clearing to rest.

“Mike took out a thermos of coffee and Jason unfolded a map of the region, estimating their location.

“We’re somewhere around here,” he said, pointing to a dense forest on the eastern side of the mountain.

“This is no longer a tourist area, but a protected territory.

That’s why it’s so quiet here.

Indeed, the forest around them was filled with a special almost primeval silence.

No hum of distant cars, no voices or sounds of civilization.

Only occasionally did the distant cry of a hawk or the tapping of a woodpecker disturb the peace.

After a short rest, they moved on.

The terrain became increasingly rugged with steep slopes and deep ravines overgrown with ferns.

The sun was already beginning to set, casting long shadows from the tall spruce trees.

Another hour and we’ll have to turn back, Mike remarked, jumping over a fallen tree.

I don’t want to wander through these woods in the dark.

Just then, Jason’s foot caught on something hard hidden under a layer of fallen leaves.

He almost fell, but managed to stay on his feet by grabbing the nearest tree trunk.

“What the hell?” he muttered, bending down to rake through the leaves.

Mike, look here.

Under a layer of leaves, moss, and small debris, the edge of a metal object was visible.

The brothers cleared away more, revealing the corner of an old refrigerator, once white, now rusty and covered in dirt.

A refrigerator in the middle of the woods? Mike wondered, “Did someone set up an illegal dump here?” Jason looked thoughtfully at the find.

This thing is old.

Look, it’s a frigid air from the 70s.

My grandfather had one like this.

Out of curiosity, they cleared more ground around the refrigerator.

It was almost completely buried in the ground with only the top corner protruding.

Several young trees were growing right next to it, their roots entwined with the metal body.

“It’s been here a long time,” Mike remarked.

probably since the days when this was a campground 40 or 50 years ago.

Jason began to clear away more dirt and leaves, exposing the front of the refrigerator.

The door was slightly a jar blocked by roots and soil.

I wonder what’s inside.

Jason took out his hunting knife and began to carefully cut away the roots and widen the opening.

Are you serious about opening this thing? Mike asked skeptically.

It’s probably full of trash or some animals nest.

What if there’s something valuable? Jason smiled.

Someone could have hidden treasure here.

Mike rolled his eyes but helped his brother.

Together, they dug away enough dirt to open the door completely.

The rusty hinges creaked protestingly when Jason pulled the handle.

At first, they couldn’t see anything because of the darkness inside.

Jason took out the flashlight attached to his belt and shown it inside.

Both brothers recoiled sharply when they saw the contents.

Inside the refrigerator, curled up in a fetal position, lay what had once been a human body.

Years had mummified the remains, drying the skin to a parchment-like state.

The body was wrapped in something resembling a jacket, the color of which was difficult to determine due to dirt and time.

“Jesus Christ,” Mike gasped, taking a few steps back.

“Is that a person?” Jason, pale as a ghost, nodded.

“He was a hunter and had seen many dead animals, but this was something else entirely.

Probably some vagrant,” he whispered, trying to control the tremor in his voice.

crawled into the refrigerator to hide from the cold and couldn’t get out.

Mike was already reaching for his cell phone.

We need to call the police.

He looked at the screen and shook his head.

No signal, of course.

Jason hesitantly approached the refrigerator, still shining his flashlight inside.

Now that the initial shock had passed, he began to notice details.

The jacket the body was wrapped in had some kind of logo on the back.

Wait a minute.

He leaned closer, careful not to touch the contents.

That’s a school jacket.

And there’s a badge.

Mike moved closer, fighting his disgust.

What emblem? I’m not sure, but Jason squinted, staring at the half-worn patch.

It looks like the Silver Creek School emblem.

Both brothers froze, slowly, comprehending the significance of this discovery.

Listen, Mike said slowly.

We’re about 12 miles from where that girl disappeared 9 years ago, right? Remember that story? Jason nodded, feeling a chill run down his spine.

Nicole Meyers.

Yeah, I remember.

She was wearing her school jacket that day.

He shown his flashlight into the refrigerator again.

Now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, they could see other objects near the body.

something that looked like a camera and a long metal object, perhaps a knife.

“We have to go,” Jason said firmly, turning off the flashlight and standing up.

“Right now, and we have to remember this place very precisely.

” They carefully closed the refrigerator door, leaving everything as they had found it.

Mike marked the location on his GPS, and Jason took several photos of the surroundings on his phone.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon, and the long shadows were turning into complete darkness.

The brothers headed back, moving as quickly as possible through the thickening forest.

Their thoughts were far from hunting.

Neither of them could shake the image of the contorted body wrapped in a school jacket in a rusty refrigerator in the middle of the wild forest.

“Do you think it’s her?” Mike finally asked when they were almost back at their car.

Jason didn’t answer right away.

In the darkness, his face seemed carved from stone.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, “but I think the Meyers family will finally get some answers after so many years of uncertainty.

” When they reached the pickup truck, they immediately drove to the nearest ranger station where there was a stable connection.

None of them spoke during the drive, but each of them was thinking about the eerie discovery in the woods, which might be the key to solving one of Silver Creek’s greatest mysteries.

On October 24th, 2025, at 10:00 a.

m.

, Clackamus County Police Chief William Rogers stood in front of the Silver Creek Police Station surrounded by reporters.

His face was grim and his voice was tense as he officially announced the discovery made by the Harris brothers.

Last night, we received a report of human remains found in a remote part of Mount Hood National Forest, he announced.

In light of this, we are officially reopening the investigation into the disappearance of Nicole Meyers.

Within hours, the news had spread not only throughout Silver Creek, but also to the national media.

Journalists from Portland and even Seattle began to flock to the small town, which was once again in the spotlight.

Meanwhile, a team of forensic scientists and medical examiners was already working at the site of the discovery.

The rusty refrigerator was carefully opened and its contents were documented in detail before the remains and other evidence were removed for thorough analysis.

It was a meticulous, almost surgical process.

Dr.

Alice Chang, the county’s chief medical examiner, later recounted, “We were dealing with 9-year-old evidence that could easily be destroyed if handled carelessly.

The old Frigid Air refrigerator turned out to be a kind of time capsule.

The tightly sealed design and relatively dry conditions inside helped preserve not only the mummified remains, but also several key pieces of evidence.

a school jacket with the Silver Creek school emblem, a camera with an intact memory card, and a hunting knife with dried blood on the blade.

On October 26th, after 2 days of intensive laboratory research, Dr.

Chang held a press conference at the county medical center.

DNA analysis confirms with 99.

9% certainty that the remains belong to Nicole Meyers, she announced.

The cause of death was multiple stab wounds to the chest and neck inflicted with a sharp object, most likely a hunting knife found near the body.

Linda Meyers, who had flown in urgently from California, was present at the press conference.

Sitting in the front row, she did not cry.

It seemed that all her tears had dried up during 9 years of uncertainty.

Next to her sat her son Kyle, holding his mother’s hand, his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

“I always knew my little girl would never have left us voluntarily,” Linda told reporters after the press conference.

But to find out that her life was cut short so brutally, so senselessly, who could do that to a child? The answer to that question began to emerge the next day when the police technical department completed the recovery of data from Nicole’s camera memory card.

Contrary to initial conclusions made 9 years ago, the card was not empty.

The data was hidden in a special encrypted section.

She was a very smart girl, explained technical expert Lieutenant James Woo.

She created a hidden folder and put her most important photos there, leaving only pictures of plants in plain sight.

The recovered photos told a chilling story.

The first few dozen images were indeed pictures of various plants taken during a school trip.

But then around 2 p.

m.

, the nature of the photos changed dramatically.

From behind thick ferns, Nicole captured the construction of a small wooden hut deep in the forest outside the permitted areas for camping or construction.

At first glance, nothing criminal, commented Detective Rachel Morgan, who returned to Silver Creek to lead the renewed investigation.

Illegal construction in a national forest is a violation, but not something you’d kill for.

However, the latest footage taken from close range revealed the real cause of the tragedy.

The images showed boxes marked explosive and bags of white powder being unloaded into the cabin.

And in the last somewhat blurred photo, the face of a man in a forest ranger’s uniform is partially visible.

We immediately suspected Brandon Meyers, Nicole’s stepfather.

Detective Morgan later admitted everything pointed to him.

He was a forest ranger, knew the forest like the back of his hand, and had the opportunity to build a hut in a remote part of the reserve without being noticed.

Brandon Meyers was detained for questioning on the evening of October 27th, but a detailed analysis of the photos from the memory card brought an unexpected twist to the case.

Facial recognition experts determined that the photo was not of Brandon Meyers, but of his colleague and best friend, Ray Hawkins.

“We didn’t even consider him a suspect 9 years ago,” Detective Morgan admitted.

He actively helped in the search for Nicole and gave testimony that confirmed Brandon’s alibi.

“When the police arrived at Ray Hawkins house to arrest him, it was too late.

The 60-year-old former forester was found dead in his living room.

He had shot himself in the head with a hunting rifle.

Next to him was a suicide note written in neat, almost calligraphic handwriting.

She shouldn’t have seen it.

I didn’t want her to, but she would have told.

Now we are both free.

Further investigation revealed that Ray Hawkins had been using a remote cabin to store and repackage drugs for several years.

Located 12 miles from the nearest hiking trail in the middle of impenetrable thicket, the cabin was the perfect place for illegal business.

That day, Nicole accidentally wandered too far from the group.

Detective Morgan reconstructed the events.

She was photographing plants and suddenly noticed a hut that shouldn’t have been there.

Her curiosity got the better of her.

She got closer and started taking pictures.

Hawkins noticed her and realized she had seen too much.

Analysis of phone calls showed that on May 17th, 2016, at 2:45 p.

m.

, Ray Hawkins received a short call from his drug business partner.

It was after this that he hurriedly left his patrol area, explaining to his colleagues that he needed to check a report of an illegal campfire.

He arrived there when the fog was already thick, the detective continued.

Nicole probably hid when she heard him approaching, but he found her and did what he thought was necessary to protect himself.

The old refrigerator was obviously already on the site, a remnant from the days when the area was open for camping.

Rey hid the body there, burying the refrigerator deeper in the ground and camouflaging it.

On October 31st, exactly one week after the discovery in the woods, Nicole Meyers was finally buried in Silver Creek Cemetery.

Brandon Meyers, released from custody and cleared of all suspicion, stood by the grave, holding his son Kyle by the shoulder.

His bearded, griefstricken face was impenetrable, but there were tears in his eyes, the first anyone had seen in many years.