Chained

by Eileen Brady

  What was Bruce talking about? No way was I going to chase him down and find out. Tonight I’d call Mari and get all the details.

  Aimlessly moving through the store I added more and more stuff to my cart. Jugs of water, matches, cans of soup, and the store’s last rotisserie chicken crowded in together, piling in beside corn chips and nacho cheese. The hospital had an emergency generator so I wasn’t too worried about a power outage. Shifting through a stack of DVDs on sale I bought an old Audrey Hepburn movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, before backtracking and adding a few bottles of wine and two gallons of ice cream. Now fully prepared for any emergency I steered my cart toward the crowded checkout line.

  Bruce, thankfully, was nowhere in sight.

  “Hi, Kate.”

  I turned to see Shiloh, Rusty’s fiancée, next to me, her cart mirroring mine. “Hi. I’m glad I’m not the only one who makes last-minute grocery runs.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve seen half the town here. I was just chatting with Evelyn Vandersmitt, my old English teacher, over by the frozen foods.”

  We jockeyed into position in the long line. A big guy wearing a motorcycle helmet pushed in directly behind us. Only two cashiers were open and both appeared harried. Our line stalled when a woman in red sweatpants pulled out a huge wad of coupons. The person standing next to her groaned with frustration.

  “Looks like we’ll be here a while,” I told Shiloh.

  “It figures. I’ve been so busy at the office I forgot to stock up. I’m usually much more organized than this.” She glanced around as though looking for someone. “So, are you going back to your place and waiting out the storm with your friend Jeremy?”

  “Don’t I wish?” We both moved our carts forward. “He’s in the city on business so I’m on my own until Monday.”

  “The ice cream will help.” She pointed to my cart and laughed.

  The man behind her edged a bit closer. I had the uncomfortable feeling he was listening to our conversation.

  “Shoot.” I’d just remembered something. “When is the snow expected to start?”

  “I think they said about five or six tonight. I can check the weather on my phone if you want.” She reached into her pocket and opened her cell.

  “Never mind. Darn. I was hoping not to have to go out again.”

  The line continued to inch forward.

  “Why would you need to go out?” Shiloh asked.

  I hesitated for a moment. “It’s nothing. I was going to run up and take pictures of the memorial that’s sprung up for Flynn.”

  Shiloh looked alarmed. “Pictures, in this weather? Don’t the police have all of that stuff?”

  Again I got the impression motorcycle helmet dude was eavesdropping. “I’m not sure. But by tonight the woods will be covered with snow.” I’d finally reached the cashier and started placing my items on the conveyor belt.

  “Well, don’t get stuck up there.” Shiloh put the divider between our items and began unloading her cart.

  Once again I glanced back at the biker guy next to her. Odd he didn’t remove his helmet in the store. Maybe he had dashed in for only a few items, because all he had in his hands was a roll of duct tape and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  What kind of weekend had he planned?

  It would, of course, be easier and smarter to stay in my warm apartment and eat ice cream. However, once I got back home, my restlessness didn’t go away. If I had to analyze it, Luke standing in front of the murder board shooting down all my theories may have been the cause.

  Both Gramps and Jeremy had said that memorial might be important. I looked out the window. The sky was pale gray but no snow had fallen. A trip up to the gravesite would only take about twenty minutes each way. What the heck, photos of the memorial were the only item left to do before I handed everything over to Luke. At least he couldn’t say I hadn’t been thorough.

  “Buddy,” I told my dog, “I’ll be right back. Guard the hospital.”

  Outside the sheet-metal gray sky blocked the sunlight, allowing only a few small patches of blue to peek out. I could smell snow coming in the heavy air. Periodic gusts of wind whistled through the trees. I started the truck and set out for the woods behind Samantha’s house where Flynn’s body had been discovered. The roads were crowded with people trying to finish their last-minute chores before the storm hit.

  Between the music blaring from the local radio station and thinking about making nachos, I almost passed the dirt forestry road that took me closest to Flynn’s grave. Tires bounced while navigating the bumpy road. My back and side windows steamed up despite the defroster blasting. A branch scratched across the passenger’s side causing an eerie fingernail on blackboard sound. Just past the fence the road veered off to the right but I parked in a forestry service turn-around space farther into the woods. From there it was only a short walk. Nearby, comforting lights glowed in my client Samantha’s gorgeous A-frame home. Hopefully, she’d read the e-mail we’d sent about keeping Jack, her curious Malamute, inside.

  The ground was mucky with wet, half frozen leaves, causing me to slip when I stepped out of the truck. Opening the cab door I searched for my high rubber boots. Forgotten inside a plastic bag in the backseat, they were still caked with dried bear scat and chewing tobacco spit—a parting gift from Crazy Carl.

  With my phone securely in my bag I pulled the strap across my chest to leave my hands free. Checking to make sure I had pepper spray, my Swiss army knife, and a couple of zip lock bags in my pockets, I placed one foot onto the wet muck. Despite the thick rubber soles on my boots I sank into multiple layers of leaves carpeting the forest floor. Something skittered in the brush to my right. Before I could react two squirrels ran past, cheeks comically stuffed with nuts. It got colder and colder the further into the woods I walked. Even the squirrels were smart enough to be safe in their warm nests by now. Part of me wanted to turn back but before I knew it, the makeshift memorial that marked Flynn’s grave came into sight.

  Everywhere else the land was heavily forested except for this small clearing where Flynn had been buried. A solitary jagged boulder stuck up a few feet away, partially hidden by a gangly shrub. Slipping slightly, I made my way to the memorial. The wind kicked up making a whooshing noise through the trees.

  Sure enough quite a few people had paid their respects to Flynn. A homemade cross, the two pieces of wood bound together with twine, had been pounded deep into the ground. Near the cross several photos were held down with rocks beside a bottle of beer and sad clumps of dead flowers. Wet notes and cards jutted out of the pile. A teddy bear propped up against the cross had one of the silver stars from the reunion hanging around its neck.

  I unzipped my purse, fished out my phone, and began taking pictures. The light filtering through the trees kept shifting so I turned on my flash. I zoomed in on personal items clustered around the cross—a silver bangle bracelet, a miniature sports car, and a signed baseball. When I had almost finished, something bright caught my eye. Stuck under the beer bottle was a gold candy wrapper. I held it between my fingertips for a moment, puzzled. It looked familiar but where had I seen it?

  Another blast of wind whipped around the corner and reminded me I’d better get a move on before the storm hit. One last video recording to document the entire memorial and I was out of there.

  Crunching twigs alerted me too late.

  A vicious whack on the back of my legs knocked me to the ground. Both my hands reached out to block the fall, but I didn’t take into account all the broken branches on the ground. Still gripping the phone in my right hand, my right elbow slammed into the dirt to break my fall. Sharp pieces of dead wood bit into my arms, my legs, and my right cheek.

  Stunned, I lay still. What had happened? Was I stabbed?

  Movement in front of me compelled me to look up.

  Shiloh had positioned herself four feet away, a larg
e purse strapped across her chest and a wooden baseball bat in her hand.

  “Why did you do it, Kate? I liked you. I thought we could be friends!” She hammered the tip of the bat on the ground. “I don’t have many friends.”

  “What the hell…?” Pain jackknifed through my body all the way down to my boots.

  She was dressed in a red ski jacket and jeans, her voice strident. “First you show up at Rusty’s clinic. Next you accidentally run into us at Judy’s Place.” Her hood fell away as another blast of wind struck us both, setting her shoulder length brown hair floating free. “Then you leave two cryptic messages at the office. Good thing I checked this morning and erased them. I don’t know how you figured it out but it ends now.” Her bat hit the ground again, harder.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Everything. Snooping around. Taking pictures of this memorial. Pestering Rusty. I can’t let you jeopardize our future. My future.”

  Everything snapped into focus. “You’re protecting him.”

  “Damn right. I’m tired of scrambling, counting pennies, never getting ahead no matter how hard I work. Once we’re married, all that will change.”

  “But not if Rusty is arrested for Flynn’s murder. That’s what this is about.” I could feel the damp seeping into my clothes as I lay on the ground. My right leg had gone numb.

  “It was an accident.” Her voice grated. “They got into a fight and Rusty pushed him. Flynn hit his head on that rock.” She pointed at the boulder with the bat.

  “Then he has nothing to worry about,” I lied, sneaking my left hand along my jacket.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Sudden rage shook her voice. “Keep your hands out of your pocket or I’ll smack you again.”

  I had no doubt she meant it.

  “Shiloh, please, you don’t have to do this.” A prickly feeling started creeping into my leg. A dull ache throbbed behind both knees.

  Rage morphed into a chilling burst of laughter. “I don’t have to. I want to. Bet you never figured on that.” Her eyes darted to all the keepsakes and dead flowers scattered in front of the makeshift wooden grave marker. “Wouldn’t it be funny to bury another body under there?”

  Something was terribly wrong with her.

  Crazed eyes held mine. Gone was the gentle face she showed to the world. “I’m not going to let you ruin my life. If you think I’m going to jail, you’re nuts.”

  I used a calm voice, like I would with a wounded animal. “Shiloh, if you stop now I won’t press charges. We can work something out together.”

  “Together?” She swung the bat back and forth like a pendulum. “It’s too late for together.”

  “Why is it too late?”

  Pretty lips curved into a sick smile. “I’m the one who killed Angelica, not her stupid husband. I strangled that bitch.”

  Her confession froze me. “Why?”

  “Partly payback. She made my senior prom miserable.”

  I saw Hawaiian Punch spreading across a party dress and a young Shiloh crying.

  “After all these years Angelica remembered something she shouldn’t have.” The bat in her hand swung faster and faster, starting to circle. “Being at the reunion jogged a memory in that stupid brain of hers.” She stepped forward, eyes locked on me.

  “What did she remember?” I pretended to shift my weight, pushing through clumps of cold wet leaves. Inch by inch I moved away from her.

  Her rant continued. She paced back and forth. “That dumb Prom Queen remembered driving past Rusty’s car pulled over on the side of the road. She told me she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Flynn get into the passenger seat. Once the presentation of the Court was over she intended to tell Luke. Said she’d ruin my wedding and fix me once and for all for taking Flynn away from her.”

  Ten-year-old high school grudges still boiling under the surface.

  It had been there in front of me all along. “After Rusty left on an emergency you dressed as a waiter and went backstage.” I slid further backwards, accusing her to divert her attention. “You bumped into my chair rushing to get away. All I saw was your back, but you looked familiar.”

  “My one mistake.”

  “One?” I had to keep her talking, bragging. “How did you get the uniform?”

  “I waitressed at that dump my senior year in high school. All I needed to do was raid the servers’ locker room. They keep extra uniforms and shoes in there since half the bozos they hire show up in jeans and sneakers…They never change the lock codes.”

  Her face took on a self-satisfied air. “I stuffed my dress in one of the garbage bags and snuck out through the kitchen. Didn’t run into a soul. I’m lucky that way.”

  “Wait…that was clever.”

  She moved closer, her voice now singsong in its repetition. “Lucky, lucky, lucky.”

  The wind died down. We were so isolated. Could I create a diversion and slip away into the woods? If life was like the movies, I would keep her talking, giving me hope.

  But this wasn’t a movie.

  I did my best to appear understanding. “I’m sure it’s been very traumatic for you. A good lawyer could probably help you…but not if you kill me.”

  “Don’t you get it? Flynn’s body has been discovered. Rusty is feeling guilty. He was tempted to confess to you the other day, to clear his conscience. I can’t let that happen.”

  “But Shiloh—”

  “Enough talking!” she screamed. She shut her eyes for a moment, then in a monotone recited, “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing, I promise. Third time’s the charm.”

  “Third? Who else….?” I baited her, trying to break her chain of thought.

  Shiloh’s head tilted to the side, eyes up. The bat started to gently swing again. “I hate to boast but I pushed my Mom down the stairs right after we got back from our trip to Colorado. She was drunk. It was almost too easy.” She smiled at me.

  All hope of escaping vanished.

  “What are you planning for me?”

  “A big injection of insulin I borrowed from the clinic. Undetectable in an autopsy. Your blood sugar will drop, you’ll go into a coma and die.” Now she was proud. Lucky, lucky…

  Another cold breeze whipped around the tree trunks. “Luke will never believe it.”

  “Yes he will. Because after you go into a coma, I’m going to use this on you.” She lifted something out of her large purse and grinned.

  At first I didn’t recognize what it was. Then the genius of her plan sunk in.

  “Sorry I have to scratch up your face but I need to make it realistic.” The bear paw in her hand had long curved claws, sharp and deadly. “It’s amazing what you can find in antique shops.”

  I pulled myself up to a crouching position as she calmly stuffed the paw back in her big purse. My right knee shook under me. My heart pounded. “I’m not going to make it easy for you, Shiloh.”

  “I didn’t think you would.” Up came the bat. She gripped it firmly with both hands, leisurely took a practice swing.

  Swoosh.

  My left hand searched for and found the pepper spray. Useless this far away. I’d have to get closer.

  Swoosh.

  Shiloh raised the bat to shoulder height, eerie anticipation in her stance, her eyes bright.

  Branches swayed along the forestry trail behind her but the wind was still. A dark shadow moved between the trees.

  “Shiloh, don’t move.” I kept my voice low. “There’s a bear behind you.”

  “Is that the best you can do?” she mocked me. “You think I’m going to fall for that?”

  I hunched further back, my eyes focused just beyond Flynn’s memorial site.

  She raised the bat again, no regret in her glittering eyes.

  “Good-bye, Kate. Tough luck.”

  A r
oar shook the trees. The large black bear stood up on its back legs, mouth wide open. Huge white teeth glistened.

  Shiloh whirled and screamed, terrified. He loomed over her, paws coming up. Another roar came from deep within his chest, rattling my bones.

  She scrambled backwards toward me, slipping in the leaves, waving the bat futilely in the air.

  Pushing off with my good leg I lowered my head and lunged at her. I knocked her forward, off balance, still clutching the bat, unable to break her fall. She crashed onto the nearby boulder, the same pointed boulder that had claimed Flynn’s life. Something snapped.

  The bear dropped down onto all fours and snuffled the ground. Abruptly his head lifted.

  Deep brown eyes stared directly into mine.

  My fingers dug for the pepper spray. Black bears usually weren’t aggressive, but anything could happen. I would fight for my life.

  In an instant it was over. With a chuffing sound the bear moved away and disappeared into the trees. Partially healed scars from a chain and shackle were clearly visible on his hind leg.

  He was the bear I’d fed in the corral, the captured bear that Crazy Carl had beaten, starved, and tried to teach to dance. Whether consciously or not, he had now returned the favor.

  Shiloh lay on the ground cursing, her right arm at a bizarre angle. A jagged piece of bone protruded through her torn ski jacket. Blood slowly ran down her fingers and dripped on the damp leaves. The broken baseball bat lay in pieces amid the photos and dead flowers.

  I took a couple of deep breaths, paused to look around, then called 911 and texted Luke.

  In the distance I heard the bear move away through the underbrush. Slowly I pulled myself up, legs trembling from pain, and limped over to the closest tree. Shiloh screamed more obscenities, regretting she hadn’t strangled me like she’d strangled Angelica.

  My phone continued videotaping everything.

  In a super-human effort my would-be killer attempted to lift herself off the ground. The scream of agony before she passed out didn’t surprise me. Open fractures are a bitch.