The Puzzle (12 page)

As If I Didn’t Know Better

Days flew by and I experienced a lull, my life feeling somewhat normal again. Emboldened, I drove to the local upper trail area. It was a beautiful sunny day and so, there I was, enjoying one of my favorite hobbies, hiking. Martha encouraged me, saying, “I think it’s a wonderful idea. You have to get out and get some fresh air. Besides, it will clear away those old cobwebs. You know, you need some excitement in your life, Sam.”

I just loved that one.

The weather forecaster made assurances of a warm day. It was Sunday afternoon, and since nothing much had happened since the ice cream incident, I felt fairly confidant that I had overreacted and probably not rationally either. Maybe no one was watching my every move, where I was going, who I was talking to, who was looking down at my mail, or even trying to poison me. Maybe it was all a product of my overwrought writer’s imagination. Perhaps my life could resume some sense of normality. So I visualized an entire afternoon of peace and tranquility, with no notes to add to my novel, no facts to figure out, and no conversations to analyze. It would be a guiltless pleasure.

After an hour of moving along at a good clip on the dirt path, I heard a branch snap off to my right flank. I paused and listened.
There are deer here right?
I answered my own question.
Yes. Of course!
I started walking again, but then instinctively found myself listening, alert for the slightest sound. I heard nothing. Good. I kept on walking.

Then I heard a rustle. I stopped, and heard it again, a splintering sound of twigs being stepped upon. This time though, it sounded more pronounced. My heart skipped a beat as I looked around. The river was on my left–I could see whitewater moving through larger boulders, splashing over the old trees that had fallen over time, causing a rippling, foaming effect.

With each step I took, I heard the water pick up speed, and as if on cue, I stepped up my tempo and kept pace: as though it was telling me,
don’t stop
. Did I really want to find out what was tracking me?
No.
I didn’t think so, and kept myself in motion.

Minutes passed. Then I heard it once again and stopped cold. But whoever, whatever, wasn’t fast enough and didn’t break in time.

I heard the crunching of leaves and it sure sounded like something stalking me. I looked around again, calculating my odds of fleeing. The paved road ran parallel to the water on its descent down the mountain, but it was at least three hundred yards away. I thought of predators in the wild–wolves, foxes, bear, and of course, man. Was fear creeping in? I hesitated, but then shook it off, resolutely walking along the path.

After a while, it gradually dawned on me that I had been hiking for quite some time and everything seemed normal again. The water had become broader and more aggressive in its descent. A drop in elevation was deepening also, as the ground gave way to the outline of the mountain, traveling its sharp downward slope to the gorge and valley.

The apprehension I had felt earlier began to slowly fade, as my confidence, step by step, returned. Of course it was probably a deer or a fox. I stopped to rest a moment and catch my breath. I swung my backpack to the ground and pulled a bottle of water from it. As I took a sip and the cool liquid trickled down my throat, I felt even calmer. I hadn’t heard anything in quite awhile. I finished, capped the bottle, packed up, and resumed hiking down the mountain.

Martha had agreed to meet me at a pick-up point located at a lower parking area. She planned to come when she was finished with her shopping, after locking up the store early: a perfect arrangement. Visually calculating the angle of the sun, I figured I had less than an hour, and I was making good time. I kept up a brisk pace hiking down, working up a good sweat.

Thirsty, I stopped for another drink, but froze mid sip when I heard those crunching noises loud and clear. They were still with me. No imagination in play now. I looked down at my watch. It read four-thirty. It would be dark before long. I had to try to meet Martha as soon as possible. Tentatively, I stepped forward, abruptly faced with a split in the footpaths. There could be no wavering on my part anymore.

Those sounds were somewhere between the road and me, which was further away. If I remembered correctly, it had veered away from the water and path some time ago, so I was forced to stay on course. I tried to walk with a calm and assertive stride, like I didn’t have a care.

What was following me?

I kept moving. A person might sense apprehension and hesitation in my footsteps, and an animal would sense fear. So I tried keeping my pace steady and my breathing even. Still, I felt my luck walking away from me, as those sounds behind me grew impatient, rapidly tracking me with a relentless, ever more determined pace. I had to keep moving; I was not stopping to find out who my pursuer was.

Nightfall was quickly approaching, and the trees and boulders began casting off eerie shadows all around. The once chirping birds were muted in the thinning twilight. So far, I had managed to maintain as much of a steady pace as my stamina allowed, while the ground beneath my feet dropped sharply downward, becoming steeper and unstable with each step I took.

Normally, I would enjoy the challenge of the descending terrain, but I was so anxious about the footsteps that seemed to be gaining on me, that I felt tremulous and unsteady. Branches were snapping off like slingshots and dirt crumbled beneath my feet as I tread on the rutted ground covered with leaves and rocks. Confusion and panic took hold of me.

The footfalls behind me seemed stealthy and calculated. I picked up my pace, but slipped and almost fell.
Better be careful.
Had I misjudged the time? I looked down at my watch. It still read four-thirty! The damn thing had stopped. Great! How long had I been hiking since the last time I had checked it? I wasn’t sure. I looked around, completely disoriented. I suddenly wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
My phone!
I could call ahead to Martha.

I anxiously reached into my pocket to retrieve it. I came up empty handed. As I kept moving, I made a quick check of all my other pockets. Nothing. Where the hell had I left it? I refused to interrupt my progress and kept walking as I swung my small backpack around and off my shoulders to search it for my phone. Not there! Could I have left it in my car, miles away back up the mountain?

It was so dark now that it was hard to see. I could hear the water rushing by relentlessly and felt a sense of dread and urgency. Frantically, I started running. The thrashing through the woods behind me seemed to be gaining ground…
getting closer.
I tried to think clearly. As long as I was headed downward, I was headed in the right direction.

Wasn’t I?

But I was still much too far from the road. Instead, I aimed for the river’s edge, groping in the dark and letting the sound of the cascading water guide me. I was out of breath, sweating profusely. I had to be getting close, I thought, but then again, maybe I wasn’t. I turned to try and make out what might be behind me and didn’t spot the fallen log in my path and hit the dirt with a loud thud. My head hit something hard and everything went black.

After I don’t know how long, I felt someone grabbing me from behind and tried desperately to scream, but no sound came out. Hands rolled me over and I passed out again–this time in terror. I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but it couldn’t have been long, because I heard someone’s voice from a long way off, but was actually just a few inches away.

“Samantha! Samantha! Can you hear me? It’s me, Clay.”

Hazy and groggy, I tried to speak. “What… are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Can you sit up?”

I tried to. He carefully placed me in a sitting position, my back against a tree. I tried to see the path where I had just come from. It was pitch black. Nothing was there. The only audible sound was the rushing of the water nearby.

“Are you all right? What happened?” Clay was gently brushing away dirt from my hair and off my face.

“I must have tripped on that log,” I replied pointing.

Can you stand?”

I precariously got to my feet, with his help. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I asked weakly.

“Martha called me all upset, saying she had a flat tire and asked if I could I meet you at the parking area to pick you up and drive you back up the mountain to your car. I said sure. When you didn’t show at four-thirty, I called your cell and didn’t get any answer. I waited about thirty minutes and then rode up the mountain to your car. By the way, did you know, you left your phone on the front seat of your car? Not a smart move.”

“I was sure I had had it in my pocket.”

His flashlight illuminated the area. “Well, I came back down to the parking area. It was dark by then and you were nowhere to be found. So, I became concerned and started hiking back up the trail, hoping I would eventually run into you.”

“What time is it?” I asked, as I massaged my head, which had started throbbing. I felt a monster headache beginning.

“Six o’clock. You’re lucky I found you not that far in, maybe, five hundred yards or so. You can’t see anything out here now.”

It was completely dark, but thankfully his flashlight would help guide our way back to his Jeep. I turned to look behind me once more. Somehow, luck was on my side this time.

Or was it?

“What’s the matter? Lose something?” Clay asked, as he too stared into the black forest.

I shrugged. “No.” I was safe and that was all that mattered. I didn’t want to tell him about the footsteps following me. For all I knew, they were his. Yes, I was better off filing that incident in my laptop and nowhere else.

“Hey,” he said, as he took hold of my arm. “Let’s get you back to the parking area and then to your car. You must be totally exhausted.”

Truer words were never spoken and shortly after that, we were in his jeep, driving up the mountain, headed in the direction of my car.

“You owe me, you know,” he said, laughing, as we rode in the dark.

I had been lost in my own thoughts, staring out the window. I turned to him.

“Owe you for what?”

He was grinning and then laughed again. “I’ve rescued you for a second time, haven’t I?”

And so he had.
“Maybe–but eventually I would have made it,” I said, somewhat condescendingly. “I could have used the emergency phone in the parking lot. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Who was I kidding?

Chapter 22

Make It One For The Road

I was bruised and sore, but we finally made it back to my car. After getting in, I still felt too unsteady to drive home right away, so I sat there thinking for a minute.

Who had been chasing me through the woods? And why? Were they trying to frighten me into giving them what they were after? Yes. Had they accomplished what they had set out to do? No. What they apparently weren’t aware of was that I didn’t have any information, but more importantly, I wouldn’t scare that easily. Not anymore. I was one very angry woman, in spite of my shakiness.

I considered the facts. I was dealing with three people who had to be connected in some way other than those working summers, and that perplexed me. There was Jack, Ben, and–waiting patiently in his car for me to leave–Clay. No, make that four. I forgot Stephen. Did their tie to each other involve Stephen’s murder? I couldn’t imagine they would be personally involved in his death, but what did I know? Who and where was Stephen’s killer?

I had to accept the fact that I was being pursued because of my connection with Stephen. For some reason that placed me in danger. Taking chances and singling out the people from Stephen’s past probably didn’t help much either.

My safety seemed in jeopardy, but I refused to helplessly wait for someone to come and get me before I understood the reason why.

Whoever was after me had accused me of possessing the numbers and the key. I was stumped, but determined to find out why they thought I had this information–or even what it meant. I knew Stephen tried to tell me, but I didn’t catch his underlying message and was now convinced he was warning me with our last conversation on the phone.

I had repeated his words over and over in my head, frustrated, gazing at his photo each night I walked by it.

“What were you trying to tell me Stephen?”

His eyes followed me everywhere but he never said a word. I couldn’t believe I was trying to squeeze answers from a dead man. It used to reduce me to tears, but not any longer.

Like I said from the beginning, I needed my life back. Stephen had made relentless demands on most of it while he was alive. Now that he was dead, I was reclaiming it. I refused to accept anything less. I was not capable of returning to my former self. I had morphed into something Stephen wouldn’t recognize, even if he walked in my front door. He was the one responsible for my transformation. No, I take that back. I was the one responsible for my transformation. His death was just the impetus that shifted me in a new direction.