Dark Roads

by Chevy Stevens

  “Damn, you okay?”

  “Yeah. But it’s all over the seat.”

  “There should be some napkins in the glove box.”

  “Okay.” She leaned over, pushed papers around in the glove box. “I don’t see any.”

  “Hang on.” He slowed and pulled over onto the side. “Maybe in the door pocket?”

  She looked down, but there were only receipts and chocolate bar wrappers. Movement, a flash of shadow coming toward her. Her head slammed the window with a sickening thud. She gasped, clutching her skull. Mason. He was attacking her. She had to get out. She scrabbled for the door, but he had a painful hold on her hair, yanking her back. She pried at his hand, his fingers.

  Branches scraped the windows, the windshield. They were in motion, the truck bumping down a logging road. Her head pounded. Bright lights, sparks, exploded in her eyes. Made the world thick and greasy. She grabbed at the back of her head, her hair, trying to relieve the pressure from his grip. With her free hand, she undid her seat belt. The truck jerked to a stop.

  Something warm was dripping down the side of her face. Her vision blurred. Nausea swarmed up her throat. She spun in her seat, clawed at his face. Her fingertips met something wet and soft. His eye.

  He roared—and let go of her hair. She grabbed the door handle, fell out of the truck, and hit dirt, flat on her back. The air rushed out of her lungs. Her teeth clacked together.

  Arms, legs, emerging from the truck. He landed on top of her like a spider, sat astride her hips, his face full of rage and slick with sweat, his mouth open—a giant maw.

  One, two, three hard punches to her face, her mouth filling with blood, dirt in her eyes, heavy hand clamping down over her lips, grinding against her teeth. Blue sky above. Then it tunneled into gray.

  Her last thought was of her parents.

  CHAPTER 33

  Hailey

  Crouched among the trees, I watched as Beth climbed into Mason’s truck. He started up the engine and the two of them backed out of the campsite and drove away. Beside me, Wolf whined. He was anxious, staring up the road after Mason’s truck, then back to me.

  “I know.” Every single guy I knew seemed to be obsessed with helping Beth. I’d been one second away from whistling to get her attention when I’d heard Mason’s truck roll in. Now I’d have to find some other way to get a message to Jonny and let him know that I was okay. When I’d jumped from the semi, I’d cracked the screen on the burner phone, and it wouldn’t turn on, but riding to Jonny’s house was a risk as long as Andy was staying there.

  Wolf slipped out from my side, skirted along the shore, nose to the ground. He stopped in front of Beth’s car where Mason had been standing and sniffed along the edge of the hood. I whistled for him, but he kept pacing around her car with his hackles up, then he trotted over to where Mason’s truck had been parked. He looked up the road again, his ears cocked.

  I followed Wolf’s path along the shore and came out in front of Beth’s car. I touched a drip of engine oil on the bumper and rubbed it between my fingers. I’d seen Mason check the oil and assumed that was the problem. Her keys were still in the ignition. Had she been high again? While she slept the other night, I’d reached right into her car and put her cell on her seat.

  I slid behind the wheel and popped the hood. The oil was close to the full line and looked clean. The battery connections were tight. I got back inside, left the door open in case I needed to jump out. The car started right away. She only had a quarter tank of gas, but that was enough to get to town. Why didn’t she drive? I glanced around the car, found a few coins in her console, and tucked them into my pocket. I would try to call Jonny from a payphone after dark.

  A photo was slipped into Beth’s visor. I pulled it out. Amber and Beth. I recognized the picture from Amber’s Facebook page. I traced the curve of her beautiful face with my finger.

  Wolf put his front legs across my lap and whined as he stared into my eyes. I scratched his neck. He pawed at my chest. His whine grew more intense, shifting into a higher pitch.

  I looked at him, then down the campground road. Beth had looked surprised when Mason drove in, so she hadn’t expected him. He’d shown up early, when no one else was awake.

  How did he know she would need a ride? The diner wouldn’t even be open.

  Amber had also worked for Mason. She also had an unreliable car—tire problems, in her case. If Mason had stopped to offer her a ride, she would have accepted. Anyone would have, me included. But Mason was one of the good guys. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t.

  A year ago, I was in Vaughn’s truck, hurtling down the highway to the lake. I tried to remember what he’d said about the killer. One sentence spun out of the darkness.

  He’s already looking for his next victim.

  * * *

  Going to town was risky. Vaughn would be on high alert. Or maybe it would be good timing. He wouldn’t think the thief would go near the diner again so soon. I rode the trail fast, my eyes focused on every bend, each dip in the dirt. Jonny’s bike was heavy. One wrong jump and I’d launch Wolf—and myself—into the air. There had to be a good reason Mason was giving Beth a ride. She was probably helping him buy cleaning supplies for the diner. Still, the thoughts kept coming. Why did he even have a camper on his truck? I’d never known him to go on trips, hunting or otherwise.

  On the outskirts of town, I hid Jonny’s dirt bike in a cluster of trees, then Wolf and I jogged to the forested area across the street from the diner. I pulled out my binoculars.

  Mason was at the front counter. He was doing something to the cash register, probably trying to get it working again. I couldn’t see Beth. Time ticked past. The sun rose higher, reaching through the trees and heating up the forest. Thirty minutes later Mason was sweeping the floor, making piles of broken glass, righting overturned chairs. Still no sign of Beth.

  Another fifteen minutes passed. The anxiety in my stomach bloomed. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen or the storage room. The diner was closed, and nothing was damaged in those rooms.

  Mason’s truck was in the alley, close to the back door. Like he wanted to keep an eye on it. I stared at the camper. The curtained windows. I wanted to look inside, but someone might see me. I watched the diner’s front window for another twenty minutes.

  This was wrong, every part of it. Beth was in trouble. Mason had done something to her. I waited for a few cars to pass, gave Wolf the signal to stay, then walked across the road with my shoulders hunched. I stuck to the alley wall, inched closer to the truck, and looked into the front.

  Beige plaid fabric. Tidy. A tree-shaped sanitizer dangled from the rearview mirror. No purse or girl’s clothing. No blood.

  I climbed up onto the rear driver’s-side tire, braced myself against the wall of the camper, and peered through the dirty window. The curtains blocked my view of most of the interior. I glimpsed floor and part of the bed area. I pressed my ear to the glass and softly said, “Beth?”

  No response.

  I climbed down, returned to the woods. If Beth wasn’t in the camper, maybe she was trapped at Mason’s place. He lived on a big piece of property miles past the lake, off a dirt road that led to the second peak of the mountain. It was within a half mile of where Dad had crashed his truck. Only a month before the accident, I was with Dad when he dropped off tools that Mason wanted to borrow. Mason met us at the bottom of the driveway. Now I wondered what he had been building. He’d given the tools back after the funeral.

  I needed help. I swung the binoculars over to the truck stop. Three rigs parked close together. The drivers were standing around, coffees in hand.

  “Stay,” I told Wolf. He grumbled, then found a spot in the dirt, and dug a shallow hole. He flopped down with his head across his front legs. “I won’t be long.”

  Following the forest around the bend, I waited until traffic had cleared before running across the road and hiding among the rigs. Making sure no one had seen me, I crept around the back of the t
rucks until I reached the phone booth. The men were focused on their conversation.

  I dropped one of Beth’s quarters into the phone. Thompson took a long time to answer. I was about to hang up when I finally heard his voice.

  “Thompson.”

  I pressed my mouth close to the receiver, muffled it with my hand. “Beth, the new waitress at the diner, is missing. Mason did something to her car so he could give her a ride, but she didn’t show up with him. He’s taken her somewhere.”

  A pause, then, “How do you know this?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You have to search his camper.”

  “Last time you called, you said Vaughn was the killer.”

  “Vaughn is a pervert. I wasn’t lying—but Mason’s done something to Beth. Swear to God. Just check it out, please? Or I’m going to talk to him myself.”

  “Stay away from Mason. Let me deal with it.”

  “She could be hurt.”

  “Stay away from him, all right?” This time he hung up first.

  * * *

  I went back to my spot in the woods where Wolf was waiting. He got to his feet, tail wagging, and bumped his snout into my face when I crouched to ruffle the fur on his neck.

  “Good boy.”

  Resting my back against a tree, I kept my binoculars aimed at the diner. The sun was high now and scorching hot, even in the shade. My hair was damp with sweat under my cap. I took it off, wiped at my forehead. Wolf and I drank my last bottle of water, sun-warmed.

  A cop car turned onto the road and rolled to a stop in front of the diner. I held my breath, waiting to see who got out. Black hair. Tall, with narrow shoulders. He wore dark mirrored sunglasses. Thompson.

  He was going to follow up on my report. I checked the cop car, making sure Vaughn wasn’t with him, and then up the street. No sign of backup. I focused on Thompson again.

  He was at the diner door now. He paused, looked right then left. I scooched lower. Did he sense I was nearby, watching?

  After a moment, he slid his sunglasses up onto his head, and entered the diner.

  CHAPTER 34

  Beth

  She woke to black. Woozy, semiconscious, delirious with pain. Her head was heavy and throbbing, a helmet of agony. Where was she? She was lying on a floor, contorted into an uncomfortable position. She tried to open her eyes, which were so swollen she could only squint.

  Her tongue was thick as it pushed against the fabric balled in her mouth. She choked on saliva and blood. Her back was arched, her hands tied to her ankles behind her back.

  Panting, she lay still, listened hard. Traffic sounds in the distance. Was she by a road? She felt movement, vibration around her. She was in a vehicle—the camper? She pushed forward and came up against a hard surface. She lifted her head and slammed into something. She gasped. Nausea and dizziness. Fresh air was coming from somewhere. She wiggled backward and hit another obstacle. She was in a box or a crate. Maybe a closet. She tried to scream but could only moan and grunt, then dissolved into sobs that made her gag, her body shuddering. She was alone, helpless. No one knew where she was. No one would notice she was missing.

  She found the spot of air, pushed her nose against it. Coolness. Outside air? Wherever she was, he’d wanted her to breathe. He was saving her for something. Horror swelled. She thrashed, kicking and twisting until she was exhausted and panting and couldn’t struggle anymore.

  The movement stopped. A truck door opened. She could hear it through the ventilation somehow. Did that mean someone could hear her scream? She waited, ready to fight in whatever way she could if he was coming to get her. She imagined him dragging her out. Imagined him cutting her with a knife, stabbing into her flesh. Her breath was too fast, she was going to hyperventilate. She tried to focus, tried to remember any self-defense lessons she’d taken.

  Time passed. He hadn’t come. Where had he left her? She stared into the darkness. She had to pee and finally, when she couldn’t wait anymore, she had to go in her shorts. Maybe he’d hate that. Maybe he’d beat her for it. Maybe that would be a blessing. He wasn’t going to let her live. She already knew that. Whatever he was planning, she wasn’t going to walk away from it.

  Beth thought of Amber, closed her eyes as tears leaked out, and prayed to her sister. Prayed for her to send help. She repeated it over and over, a mantra of desperation. She didn’t know how long she had been trapped. She was sure she had a concussion. She drifted into a hazy sleep, then woke to the pounding in her skull. Beth had never experienced pain like this. Nothing had ever prepared her. She wanted to step outside of her broken body.

  Voices. Coming closer. She lifted her head, tried to listen through the small air hole. The voices were deep-pitched. Men. She stilled. She needed a plan. If he opened up the box, she could pretend to be dead. She’d rear up and smash her head into his face.

  “Vaughn looked over everything last night.” Mason’s voice. Distant, like he wasn’t standing close to the camper.

  “I just needed to confirm the point of entry.” The other voice was familiar. Thompson? The point of entry. What did that mean? She couldn’t think properly, the pressure in her head moved her thoughts around backward. Door. The diner door. The truck was in the alley.

  “You’re alone today?”

  “Gave the cook the day off. I was going to let Beth work a few extra hours, but she didn’t show up.”

  “You didn’t go to the campsite?”

  She rocked her body, but she couldn’t stretch her legs and barely made a soft tap. She tried to moan loudly, straining her throat muscles, and bringing noises up from her chest.

  “No. Came straight here. Why?”

  “She’s missing. Her tent, her car, everything is still there.”

  Wait. Someone had noticed she was gone. Someone had called the police.

  “Did you check with Jonny? They had an argument the other day. She came back upset.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Mason was lying, sending Thompson in the wrong direction. Beth shifted her weight, pushing her body back and forth. If she could make the camper rock, Thompson would notice. Her shoulders were hitting the side, but the noise seemed muffled, like she was cocooned, her box padded. He’d made it soundproof.

  “I’ll give him a call. I’m sure she’s fine, but we’ve got to follow up.” Thompson seemed so calm, so unconcerned. How could he believe Mason’s lies? She wanted to scream. “Noticed you parked in the alley today. You need help unloading something?”

  Beth held her breath. Please let Mason say something suspicious. Please let Thompson insist on checking the camper.

  “It was just a few tools, already got them inside. Thanks, though.”

  Silence for a moment, then Thompson said, “Your eye okay? It looks sore.”

  “Got some debris in it when I was sweeping.” Mason cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I really need to get back…”

  “Sure. Let me know if you hear from Beth.”

  “Of course. I’m worried about her too.”

  Thompson was leaving. No, no, no. Beth stretched her body and strained at the ropes, her shoulder muscles tearing, the skin on her wrists burning, but she had to get Thompson’s attention. She choked on her saliva, retching and gagging, her eyes streaming. For a paralyzing moment she thought that was it for her. She was going to suffocate, alone in a box, but she finally got some air through her nose and caught her breath. Just in time to hear footsteps moving away.

  * * *

  Beth woke with her head crammed into a corner. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. Her mind had shut down with shock. Now the camper was moving. She didn’t know how long they’d been on the road. Hours? Seconds? Every mile brought her closer to her death.

  She thought of the police showing up at her parents’ door to tell them they’d lost their daughter. They’d be alone now, forever.

  Mason. All this time it was Mason. She’d worked with him, talked with him. Breathed the same air. Laughed and smiled. She
’d been so grateful when he gave her a job. Hailey had never guessed the real killer. No one had, and he was there the entire time. Front and center.

  The truck stopped. The distant slam of the door. Now a closer noise, a lock clicking open. The camper door. Footsteps, scraping sounds above her. She attempted to roll onto her side so she could hit him in the face with her forehead, but the top was opening, and she was blinded by brightness. Something came into view, blocking the light. She blinked. Mason’s eyes, his beard hovering right above her, then his fist coming down.

  She woke on a concrete floor. Hands moved her roughly. Her arms flopped. She was untied, but her muscles felt numb, tingly. She’d lost circulation. She was still gagged, and her skin was cold. Then the sudden realization. She was naked. She rolled onto her knees, and something hard came crashing down on her back. She fell flat, her face scraping against the concrete. Hands picked her up, flipped her over. She was looking up at Mason.

  He towered over her with a metal rod in his hand. A camera hung around his neck.

  “You’re going to pose for me.”

  Beth shook her head, her palms out in a plea. She begged him with her eyes.

  “You’re the first one I’ve had time with.” He sounded so pleased, sharing this news like she was supposed to be honored. “The others happened too fast. I had to take their photos after they were dead. Then I built the cooler in the camper. My lucky day when you walked into the diner.” She stared at his face, his mouth moving, saying these angry, terrifying words. This couldn’t be the end of her life. She was only twenty-one. She wasn’t supposed to die like her sister. She was supposed to avenge her. She was supposed to fix her family.

  Mason tucked the rod under his arm, raised the camera, and aimed it at her. He pressed the shutter. She blocked her face with one hand, tried to curl her body up and cover herself with the other.