Magnolia Road

by J. Lynn Bailey

  Quietly, I shut the door behind me and rest my back against the door, thinking about Nana’s words of forgiveness and fear. Regrets.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out.

  Unknown number: You’d better run.

  My throat begins to burn.

  My hands grow cold.

  My body begins to shake.

  Somehow, I knew it would come down to this.

  I walk into the kitchen, trying to dial one of Ryker’s many numbers.

  But, when I call, a phone starts to ring.

  It isn’t mine.

  It’s inside the house.

  This house.

  The house on Magnolia Road.

  It rings again as I hold my shaking hand to my ear.

  Ring.

  I shake.

  Ring.

  The ringing gets closer and closer. Finally, I hear footsteps.

  And, coming from the bedroom, I see boots. Big black hiking boots.

  I trace the boots with my eyes, up to the black pants and black shirt, and I see Luke O’Connor’s face staring back at me, the phone to his ear.

  “I told you to run,” he whispers.

  My body runs cold. I try to swallow.

  Find strength, Bryce. My voice, as if not my own, says, “I will not run from you, Luke. The world will know what an awful man you are whether I live or die. And I will never give you what you want.”

  He shrugs and casually leans against the doorframe. “That’s not what your dad said when I went to his office to ask him, rather politely might I add, where you were. So, you know what I did, Bryce? I waited. I waited until the time was right. Clearly, the men I sent couldn’t get the job done discreetly, so I had to do this one myself.”

  He grabs a handkerchief from his back pocket. Pulls a small, clear bottle from his pocket and dabs the handkerchief with it, dampening it.

  Luke looks up and meets my eye. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Really, it’s your choice, Bryce.”

  Luke would be a handsome man, a real keeper, if he didn’t have evil running through his veins. I can see why he’d be elected to office with his fresh smile, beaming white teeth, and a weakness for beautiful women. Layered beneath all the evil that takes away from his charismatic smile, his charm, beneath the mind of a criminal, I bet he’s still a man, and I also bet he has a hard time saying no to a woman.

  I don’t allow him to see my fear but instead my confidence as I slowly step toward him. A seductive smile spreading across my face.

  He’s still. Doesn’t move an inch, wondering what I’m doing.

  “Can I tell you something, Luke?” I whisper as I get closer.

  “What?” Now, he’s curious.

  I’m about ten inches from his face.

  Before I answer, quickly, I take my knee and bring it up toward his balls with speed, hitting him where it counts as hard as I can.

  “Don’t ever underestimate a beautiful woman, asshole.”

  A high-pitched squeal comes from somewhere inside him as he drops to the floor.

  I take off out the door, up behind the house, and into the trees.

  Nightfall, I realize as my legs push me up the hill and into darkness.

  My heart pounds against my chest. The trees fly by as I move. Just like my days of running long distances in high school. I smell the night—fresh soil and leaves from all sorts of plant families—but I don’t feel the cold. My adrenaline is pumping too hard. My legs push further.

  I don’t realize I’m breathing hard until I reach the peak of the hill.

  Then, I hear the thrashing behind me, and I know it’s him.

  Hide, Bryce. Take cover. Wait.

  The thrashing gets closer, and while my adrenaline is still up, I begin to slowly panic.

  Where? Where should I hide?

  My eyes search frantically in the dark, my eyes now adjusted, able to make out shrubs, tall trees, rocks, but nothing close to something I can hide in or on.

  Don’t panic, Bryce.

  And then everything goes quiet.

  My heart pounds.

  “Bryce, I just want to talk.” I hear Luke say.

  It’s cold. It’s now that I realize, if Luke doesn’t kill me, the elements will.

  I look up, and he’s standing over me like a lion and its prey.

  Thirty

  Ethan

  Something’s wrong. Something doesn’t feel right, I think to myself as I leave Rick’s Pharmacy. The cold almost takes my breath away when I walk outside.

  The town of Granite Harbor shuts down at dusk, except for the restaurants.

  I had to work late, and Rick, living upstairs of the pharmacy, said it would be no problem if I came to pick up a prescription when I got off.

  But something isn’t right.

  I look down the street toward the house on Magnolia Road. Bryce’s house actually. Still, she hasn’t taken my calls, and I understand why. I’ve got to give her time to heal. That’s what James said after I marched back into his office and told him I needed help with this whole situation.

  Instead of walking to my truck, I walk down toward the house on Magnolia Road, not because of my own needs, but because something doesn’t feel right. I knock.

  No one answers.

  Lights are on inside.

  Go inside, a voice says.

  I hesitate. I don’t want to invade Bryce’s privacy. I don’t.

  What if she’s in there?

  What if she’s with another man?

  Jealousy begins to build, but I realize there’s no way she’d do that.

  Turning the doorknob, I walk in. “Bryce? It’s Ethan. Are you home?”

  Quietly, I shut the door behind me, set the prescription down on the coffee table, and slowly, cautiously make my way into the kitchen.

  There’s nothing out of place.

  But Bryce’s phone is on the counter, which is odd.

  Don’t look through it, Ethan. That’s an invasion of her privacy.

  Look through it, Ethan. What the hell are you waiting for?

  I touch the home button, and her screen comes to life. On the screen, I notice a text notification from an unknown number.

  You’d better run.

  Fuck. My heart starts to pound out of my chest.

  “Bryce?” I call out again, more panicked, leaving the phone where it is. That’s when I notice the rather large boot print in the doorway off of the kitchen. It’s a faint outline, and if I wasn’t in law enforcement, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

  I walk over to it and kneel down to examine the print.

  It’s about a size twelve.

  Wide foot.

  I pop up and search the entire house for Bryce but to no avail.

  Don’t panic, Ethan.

  The question isn’t if Luke is behind this because the fucker is. It’s if he sent one of his men to do a job he was supposed to do.

  “Officer Lent?” I say into my phone. “I need your assistance at the house on Magnolia Road.”

  It isn’t an issue of I will or I won’t tell the story of the O’Connor family. It’s a situation of life and death. I know Bryce, and I know she won’t say a word about Sandra and Landon; she’ll take it to her grave. This thought sends chills up my spine. A thought I’m not willing to explore.

  Officer Lent is there within minutes.

  “Watch where you step,” I say to him as he walks into the house.

  He meets me in the kitchen.

  I proceed to tell him the story, the short version, of what happened with Sandra and Landon O’Connor.

  He thinks on it. Sighs. Places his hands on his hips. “I don’t want to poke holes in the story, Ethan, but this isn’t evidence that he’s been terrorizing his wife and child because they upped and left and stayed hidden.”

  “I haven’t got time for this shit. I have to go find Bryce. She isn’t here, and something is wrong.”

  I pick up Bryce’s phone and shove it in
my pocket, just in case Luke decides to call back. For all I know, he could have her. This thought almost sends me over the edge.

  I stare at Officer Lent, dead in the eyes. “You’re either going to help find her or contemplate whether or not the evidence is clear.” I leave the house, shutting the door behind me. I run up to my truck and grab my heavy-duty flashlight, my gun already in my holster around my waist. I return to the side of the house to look for evidence.

  Come on, baby, leave me something.

  Carefully, I walk down the steps of the porch, turn back, bend down, and shine the light closely to see if I can see the boot tracks. I’m about to stand, but I see a small indentation in the dirt, part of a boot track, that is slightly turned to the right.

  I stand now and turn my flashlight toward the wet soil next to the side of the house. I use my flashlight to navigate the tracks that I see.

  Bingo. Boot tracks.

  But I notice a smaller shoe, a slender sole.

  A sickening feeling meets my stomach as I follow the small set of footprints because no longer do I care about the asshole in the boots; I only care about Bryce and what she was—is still—running from.

  With each quick step, I trace the tracks of both boot and shoe to the base of the hill behind the house to the place we found the chair and the Styrofoam cups, which were taken into evidence.

  But, with the leaves from fall, the tracks disappear.

  Even though I want to yell Bryce’s name at the top of my fucking lungs, I can’t. He’ll know I’m on his tail.

  I pull my gun from my duty belt and quietly begin to creep up the hill, carefully listening.

  I listen so hard until I hear sounds that aren’t mine.

  I hear sounds that belong to animals of the night.

  Gathering myself behind a tree, I load my gun, my breaths reflected in the cold night air.

  “Just wait for me, Bryce,” I whisper into the night as I cock back my gun.

  But then I laugh to myself. Bryce isn’t the type to sit and wait. She’s the type to protect. She’s smart. I trust her to take care of herself. I trust her to do what she needs to. What I’m worried about is if she’s backed against the wall and she has the option to protect the innocent or die. I know she’ll choose the latter.

  This scares the living shit out of me.

  Again, I breathe in the cold night air.

  What is Bryce wearing?

  Is she cold?

  Was she prepared to run for her life?

  With each step I take, I’m one step closer to her and away from my old life. Because this moment right here is when I realize she’s the person I need in my life. She’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  Fear is crazy. It pushes our limits. It pushes us as people. It forces us to see what we don’t want to see. Make decisions that we should have made a long time ago.

  I hear footsteps behind me. Not close behind me, but close enough.

  An animal?

  There are two types of animals. Ones that walk on two legs without empathy and a conscience, also known as cold-blooded killers, and those on four legs who just want to be left alone.

  I’m hoping for the second option.

  The darkness does things to us. Creates images in our heads. Situations that aren’t real.

  I quietly wait behind the tree, my head resting against its bark, gun cocked and loaded up at my ear, hands around the grip.

  Once again, the footsteps.

  I hold my breath and peer from behind the tree. Nothing. Only darkness.

  Again, footsteps.

  Fuck.

  I peer one more time and see the badge.

  The north woods of Maine is the game wardens’ jurisdiction.

  If someone goes missing, it’s the game wardens who go searching.

  Sure, we can have police help us search, but game wardens know the backwoods. Know the terrain. It’s our job to find lost hikers or hunters or to recover a body.

  “Ethan.” I hear my brother, Aaron.

  Thank God. I drop my head against the tree. Breathe.

  I step into the darkness from behind the tree, so Aaron can find me.

  Aaron and Eli approach.

  “Officer Lent said you could use some backup.”

  I can’t really see Aaron’s face right now, but I know he’s pissed I didn’t call him first. I didn’t expect to go chasing a madman up a hill tonight. If I had, I would have called him. But I don’t tell Aaron this right now because I need to make sure we get to Bryce sooner than later.

  “Did he fill you in?”

  Eli and Aaron nod, their guns at their sides.

  “Let’s go find this asshole,” Eli says, “but first, let’s separate, drive him like illegal hunters drive deer. I’ll come from the west. Aaron, you come from the north, and, Ethan, you stay put and come from the east.” Eli holds his compass.

  “If we get in trouble, you know the routine—two gunshots in the air,” Aaron says.

  We all nod in unison as the cold gets colder.

  A woman’s scream sends increments of pain through my body. Small, sharp pains.

  “It came from the east,” Aaron says, his compass in hand.

  “Go,” I say as we take off in the dark in our directions, still following our training on tracking, yet keeping a quick pace.

  I don’t allow my mind to wander. I stay focused, not allowing fear to interrupt my thought process, my concentration.

  Now, the only sound left in the woods is the sound of our quiet feet against the leaves, the soil, the wet from the fresh rainfall.

  I take out my compass and check my coordinates.

  “I’m coming, Bryce,” I whisper against the fear that’s almost restricting my airway.

  I push further up the hill, taking refuge along the trees.

  Please, God, take care of Bryce until I can get to her.

  The last time I prayed was when our Humvee was attacked in Iraq. The prayer was similar. A desperate call for help.

  There are so many things I want to tell her, God. So many things I want to do with her. Please, God, keep her safe until I can reach her.

  A shot is fired. It’s a crack, like lightning through the sky, and I run east as fast as I fucking can.

  I don’t feel anything.

  We reach the summit, and I see Aaron and Eli in their positions.

  We stop.

  Listen.

  Muffled cries.

  I know they hear it, too.

  Heart pounds. My mind is taken in a million different directions of fear.

  Aaron points down the other side of the hill as a red light moves violently.

  Luke has Bryce.

  Thirty-One

  Bryce

  Luke pulls me by my hair to a standing position.

  I stand and realize I should be freezing, but adrenaline is pumping through my body like an open vein bleeds out.

  “What are you going to do, Luke? You can’t kill me. You’ll never find your wife and son.”

  “That’s what your brother said when I took my fist to his face.”

  My stomach tightens, clenches, at the thought of Luke hitting my brother. I’ve seen my brother’s face bruised before. But it’s the thought of whom he’s protecting and why that makes my heart ache.

  I go to a place where my current surroundings don’t exist. I go there in self-preservation.

  If I were to do my life over again, I’d have a better relationship with my mother. Try harder. Not allow my own hurt to get between us. Maria showed me what a mother’s love should look like. I wasn’t able to see it with my own mother because I, too, was too wrapped up in my own feelings. Too self-involved to just love for the sake of love.

  I’d love Ryker for who he was, not what he did. I’d give him the same compassion I gave Robby as I watched the ventilator breathe for him.

  And I’d tell Ethan Casey that I was in love with him. And that I didn’t care what walls he had up. I’d push throug
h them to get to his heart.

  I see right now that what he said to me that night was to push me away, to protect me, not him. I know this because, right now, I’d do anything to protect him.

  Luke drags me by my hair, and I stumble over the terrain of rock, wet leaves, and soil. I try to but don’t dare scream because I don’t want anyone to put themselves in a position to be killed, because if anyone find out I’m missing, it will be the Maine Warden Service who comes searching for me. They know the woods the best. They’ll see my footsteps leading up here. I scream inwardly, manically, and replace the pain with questions.

  Breathe, Bryce.

  All it would take is the wrong footing to send my head to the jagged rocks below and succumb to my own injuries.

  Would they consider it murder?

  Would Luke go to prison?

  Would Ethan get to him first?

  If Ethan found Luke before other law enforcement, found my body, Luke wouldn’t breathe to see another sunrise.

  Fight, Bryce.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  I try to stand, but Luke yanks my hair again. I’m weak and tired, but I can see him as he searches our surroundings. He’s got the gun in the other hand.

  He’s frustrated. I can tell by the look on his face.

  “Luke, you’re not going to find Sandra and Landon this way. You’re just getting lost. The north woods is no place to get lost, especially with the falling temperatures.” I let out a sigh because I can’t seem to catch my breath.

  “Just shut up!” He pulls me up by my hair once more.

  Don’t show him pain.

  I inwardly scream.

  Luke’s eyes are crazed, paranoid almost, as he looks around in the darkness and then back at me.

  Finally, he releases me, my hair, and I fall to the ground, relieved, trying to regulate my breathing.

  “I should just kill you.”

  “What did you do to my brother?” Anger is now starting to fester deep within me.

  “Fucking idiot.” Again, Luke searches our surroundings with his eyes. “Fucking worthless piece of shit.”

  Anger gets the best of me. Searing anger. “That worthless piece of shit saved your wife and son a lifetime full of torture.”