Canyon Echoes

by Miranda Nading

  Part of him, the part that had been determined to hunt her down and find the evidence he needed to convict her, didn't trust this new turn. Moreover, he didn't trust himself not to be taken in by someone with such a long and troubled history. Another part wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe, see her face light up as she smiled, just as badly as he needed to find the bastard who killed Mike.

  27

  The explosion came sooner than the killer expected. Pinned down in a dark hollow between the brilliant light of the fire and the sweeping lights on the emergency vehicles, it was only a matter of time before the fire was brought under control and someone looked her way.

  Crawling on her belly through melting snow and mud, the satisfaction Julie had hoped to feel after protecting her family faded with the frustration of having to wade through the muck. She'd done what she'd had to do and now she was being punished for it. As another vehicle hustled around the corner, she dove into the mud. Adding insult to injury, she landed a mouthful of pine needles and filth.

  Spitting and sputtering, she waited until the last set of lights swept by, pushed up from the ground, and made a run for the next cabin loop. From there, she could make her way back to the woods that would lead her home. She had to get cleaned up and find out where her little family was. Especially Corny.

  None of this should have happened. She took a breather under the cover of trees within sight of the four-way stop. Watching for any sudden movement from the emergency crews or rubberneckers from the scattered few campers ahead, her mind spun with how out of control everything had gotten. It was all because of Lester. If he hadn't pushed her, hadn't cornered her and threatened the family, none of this would have happened.

  When the road remained clear, the killer broke out of the trees. Exposed for no more than a minute and half, as she ran to the next trail, it felt like an eternity. Anyone seeing her covered in the sludge from her tramp through the woods would take notice and the echoes would travel with destructive speed. She wasn't an anonymous face in the park and she was well known in Canyon. Nor was her combustible relationship with Lester a secret. They sparred constantly during the budget period. Only Kristi was a bigger target to the bastard than she was.

  Most of the parking spaces in front of the motorhomes in the lower loop were empty. Their occupants were already within viewing distance of the huge fire burning in the village. The risk of being evacuated was low, the fire would spread a little but the damp conditions and snow should keep it isolated to the immediate area.

  With the coast clear, she ran the last few feet from the trees to the door of her motorhome. After changing her clothes, she opened the refrigerator and eyed the contents. She needed a reason to go to Kristi's. The red velvet cupcakes she's made that morning looked a little too much like celebrating. She grabbed a roll of zucchini bread out of the refrigerator, a proper gift of sympathy and comfort. She hesitated before walking the short distance to the Gulfstream.

  On the other end of the lot, Gracie's little dogs stood sentry on the dashboard. Their stance was one she knew well. The little bastards were waiting for Gracie to come home. It was after dark and she was alone, she belonged at home. So where the hell was she?

  She would have to deal with Gracie later; right now, she needed to prune the damned tree. By the time she hammered on Kristi's door, she was out of breath and the scrapes and scratches from her run through the woods were on fire. The face that filled the window was red and ragged. Exhaustion deepened every line, bruised the flesh under Kristi's eyes.

  The bloodshot eyes grew large at the sight of blood on Julie's face and she opened the door, but not enough to invite Julie in. “What happened to you?”

  Julie took the small steps and went through the door, forcing Kristi to step back. “Pine Martin,” Julie breathed, giving a good show of being more out of breath than she was. “Bastard got into my house.”

  Kristi turned her back, making her way to the kitchen for the first-aid kit, and didn't see Julie throw the deadbolt when she closed the door. As she knelt on the floor to pull the kit from under the sink, Julie kicked her in the back. Her head slammed into cabinet, cracking the thin wood veneer.

  The sounds should have brought Corny on the run, but the motorhome remained quiet except for Kristie's moans.

  Too small to allow both of them room on the floor, Julie put her knees in the middle of Kristi's back, letting her full weight push the air out of her lungs. Her arms pinned beneath her, Kristi heaved and kicked, desperate to get air into her lungs. Bracing herself between the wall and toilet, Julie rode the woman until her struggles weakened, a sure sign her strength was fading.

  Julie moved her knees to Kristi's side, a few precious gulps of air. “Be a good girl, Kristi. I don't want to hurt you again, but I will if you force me to. Now where's Corny?”

  When she could breathe again and the coughing subsided, Kristi began to sob. Holding her weight off of Kristi, Julie moved her knees back in place to let her know that she could and would. The threat was enough. Kristi continued to cry, but struggled to keep it under tight control.

  “Good girl.” Julie moved her knees to the sides. “Now, what happened to Corny?”

  The epitome of patience, Julie waited while Kristi struggled to speak, “The killer—”

  “Wrong answer,” Julie yelled as she moved her knees back into place, letting her weight come down on Kristi's back all at once. She held it there for only a few seconds, just long enough to get her point across. “That's bullshit and you know it. What happened to Corny?”

  Her sobs were greater this time, but understandable. Julie gave her a minute before using the threat of her knees again. Once she was quiet, Julie wiggled. “Talk to me.”

  “Bathroom!” she screamed. “He's in the bathroom.”

  Grabbing a handful of hair and sweats, Julie forced Kristi up and shoved her down the narrow hall to the bathroom door. When Kristi didn't open it, Julie shoved her against the wall and yanked the door open.

  Corny, contorted and covered in a vile green mess, lay twisted in the small space. The surround that held the small shower and tub combination had shattered, leaving a hole big enough to see the basement of the RV.

  “I put water hemlock in his salad.” Kristi's words fell in a desperate rush before she broke down into a slobbering mess of self-pity and loathing.

  Julie was disgusted by her weakness. She'd obviously found out about his relationship with Kari. After making him pay for it, she would wallow in guilt until she either turned herself in, or found a more permanent end.

  She was a coward. “You wanted to make the rangers believe someone else did it?”

  “The serial killer,” she sobbed.

  “Serial killer?” Serial killers were damaged, mentally and emotionally. They needed to kill to fill a need, an overwhelming desire, or to feel powerful. How dare they compare her to that trash? She didn't kill because she enjoyed it. She killed to protect her family. A family that was turning on her.

  She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud until Kristi answered, mistaking her question for something more innocent than it was. “Billie, she told me the same person killed both Lester and that ranger.”

  “That doesn't make her a serial killer—” Julie began.

  “No, she said agents with the FBI profiled it. She said she would kill again, that she won't be able to stop now…” Kristi's voice trailed off, as if she was finally connecting the dots.

  “What else did they say?” Julie demanded. “That I was sick? A pervert? Did they say that I kill to get some kind of rush? That my mother beat me, my father neglected me? Answer me!”

  Kristi tried to shake her head with one side of her face pressed into the wall. “No, no, they didn't!”

  “Liar!” Julie punched Kristi, sending her to the floor. She wanted to stomp on her, but the space was too confined. She felt jammed in, trapped. Kristi couldn't get enough air in to cry out or scream.

  Furious, determined to reg
ain control of the situation, Julie shoved herself backwards, stepping back to pace the short distance between the bathroom and kitchen.

  Sobbing, coughing and gasping for air, Kristi fought to roll over, to protect her damaged back and ribs but she was trapped, like a turtle on its back, dependent on someone else to help her. Watching her struggle, Julie grew still, enthralled by Kristi's whimpers. Every movement seemed to cost her.

  Wracked with pain, fear, and desperation, Kristy managed to get her hands turned around and, using the small amount of leverage it gave her, rocked herself back onto her haunches. She sat there, her face pressed to the floor, deplorable and weak, coughing and trying to breathe.

  When she finally snaked a hand forward, she reached for the wall and pulled herself forward by inches, each movement making her body jerk with pain, sending her into another coughing fit that seemed to hurt even more than her struggle to right herself.

  Wondering how she had misjudged these women so much, Julie moved to stand behind Kristi. She watched her struggle to get up, but didn't reach out, didn't touch her. Kari had been a faithless witch. Inconsiderate and selfish, she had turned her back on them all without the slightest compulsion.

  Kristi slid her knees under her a little more, almost ready to sit up. She was a spineless wretch, her cowardice made Julie sick. She was strong enough to make Corny pay for what he'd done, but without the stomach to own it; be proud of it. She'd used a coward's method, poison, and then tried to lay the blame at Julie's feet.

  And then there was Gracie. She hated not knowing where the girl was, or who she was with. It wasn't like her. She lived her life on a strict schedule, organized with little chance of a surprise. If she could disappear like this, then Julie didn't know her at all. When she thought of all that she had sacrificed for Gracie, all the work that had gone into breaking her out of her emotional prison and teach her how to be a woman, it infuriated her.

  Leaning over, bracing on the wall, Kristi tried to work through the pain enough to get her feet under her. Before that could happen, Julie grabbed her, jerked her backwards and threw her into the bathroom to land on top of Corny's filthy body.

  Kristi screamed, clutching at the metal railing of the shower surround to pull herself off of her dead husband. Slamming her full weight down, Julie drove Kristi's throat into the metal railing. What was left of the plastic surround shattered, sending shrapnel through the bathroom.

  Kristi threw herself back, screaming a silent scream, her face a portrait of agony as she clawed at her damaged throat. Julie stepped back, letting her fall onto her back, her legs trapped underneath her. She couldn't risk Kristi surviving. Not now that she knew Julie was the killer.

  “I loved you, Kristi,” Julie told her, watching her body convulse with pain. The need for air caused her eyes to roll back into her head. “I loved you all. I took care of you, worried about you, nurtured you. And this is how you repaid me.”

  Julie left the bathroom, turning lights off as she went. Sitting in the darkness, watching Gracie's house, she listened as Kristi fought to hold on to her pathetic life. From her spot at the table, she had a full view of Gracie's front door. There was no way the little whelp would stay away from home too long. She didn't have it in her. She was weak. Broken.

  In the bathroom behind her, it took longer than she had expected for Kristi to die.

  28

  Gracie stifled a mischievous grin behind her hand as Hudson walked back through the door. Giving Gracie an obvious wink, meant for Hudson to see, the waitress topped off their coffee and disappeared behind the swinging doors into the kitchen.

  Hudson watched her walked away and cast a suspicious eye toward Gracie as he put the laptop and folders on the table. “What was that about?”

  “It's just nice being an oddity without it being because I'm crazy,” she laughed. “Apparently you need to get out more.”

  Hudson glared at her and opened the computer. “I've brought women here before.”

  “You're mother and sister, when they're visiting, don't count. That's like taking your cousin to the prom and saying you got lucky. Creepy and pathetic, it just makes everyone feel sorry for you.”

  He feigned offense with a hand over his wounded heart, and then went back to glaring. “I don't need help from the peanut gallery.”

  “No, I'd say a professional is in order.” She fought to look serious and leaned toward him, showing all the fake concern she could muster. “I have some phone numbers you might be able to use.”

  “That does it,” he mumbled as he pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. “You're riding in the back of the truck.”

  Laughing, Gracie scooted closer to see what he was doing. “Who does that belong to?”

  “Lester. I'm hoping it'll give us a clue as to who he made angry enough to kill him.” He shrugged. “It's probably a long shot.”

  Her smile faltered, her thoughts coming back to the horrible reality she still had to deal with. “You don't think I did it?”

  His fingers froze over the keyboard as he punched in another password. Turning to meet her eyes, his voice was strong, filled with a confidence that seemed to surprise even him. “No, Gracie. I don't. I think you're in this somehow, but I don't think you hurt anyone.” He glanced away. It seemed to take a force of will to meet her eyes again. “I'm sorry, Gracie. If it weren't for me, David wouldn't have hounded you so hard today.”

  “It's not your fault,” she whispered. Somewhere along the way, she'd decided to trust him. The way he held her on the overlook after he saved her, the way he looked at her now, seemed to draw her in. She thought she'd probably live to regret it, but had to get it out in the open.

  “I spent some time in a sanitarium,” she blurted out, then shuddered as the memories began to surface. Hudson leaned back, but didn't speak. If he had, she didn't think she could have continued. One memory in particular spoke louder than the rest. “There was an orderly, Richard. He was the one that always seemed to take me to my… sessions. He was the one that prepped me for the doctors. He'd strap me down, put the ball-gag in my mouth, and get the machine ready.”

  She laughed, and the noise sounded as sad and lonely as she felt. “I can still hear the hum of that damned machine. Feel the paddles next to my skull. They said it wouldn't hurt, that I wouldn't feel a thing. They lied. Have you ever been electrocuted?”

  She looked and found him swallowing hard. His usually tanned face had paled. He didn't seem capable of speaking, so he shook his head.

  “I won't horrify you with the details. But the ball-gag was to keep you from biting your tongue off. Keep you from breaking your teeth when your jaw slammed shut. Richard leaned over me once—his breath was foul. He asked me if I knew what my head and my ass had in common. He said they were both cracked.”

  “Gracie,” Hudson was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. “That son of a bitch should have been on that table, not you.”

  She grinned and shook her head, grateful for his words, but knowing better. “That's just it, he was right. You were right to suspect me. Something is broken inside of me. My wiring is short-circuited. When I was a kid, I killed my stepfather.”

  She expected shock, denial, or even outrage. Instead, he merely said, “I know.” Staring back at the computer, he seemed to be wrestling with himself. She'd held enough internal debates with herself over the years, she recognized the look. When he started typing in the next password, she didn't push. But it left her wondering what else he knew. More importantly, what did he think about it?

  When the screen came to life, welcoming them in, it was covered with icons. The background held a winter picture of Yellowstone Lake, a blanket of ice and steam as the sun rose behind it. If she hadn't known what she was looking at, it would have remained a mystery behind the clutter of files and programs.

  The screen was intimidating, and her heart sank. Going through all those files would take forever. At the very least, it would take time they didn't have. The small café w
as cozy, warm, and safe. She reveled in the normalcy of it, the easy conversation with the waitress, and the fun back and forth with Hudson.

  It couldn't last. All too soon, she would have to walk back out the door and deal with what was happening. She was not going to start to get back on her feet, pull her life together and get rid of the little girl in her head until this was over.

  “Popular guy,” Hudson sighed. Outlook stood open before him, but the list of unread email in Lester's inbox was outrageous. Managers from every location had emailed him and he looked like he was on at least two committees—Ecologix and Safety. There were hundreds of pre-season discussions going back and forth between Lester and HQ.

  “Wow, hold up.” Gracie grabbed his hand to stop him from scrolling. “Look at that one.”

  Opening the email, he raised an eyebrow at Gracie and waited.

  “That's a transfer authorization and start date for a new post.” She took the computer and looked through the email. “Personnel?”

  “Is that significant?”

  “From everything I know about Lester, he's a control freak. He wants to be in charge. Period. He wouldn't settle for a desk job where he had people looking over his shoulder every day. This would be too menial for him.”

  Gracie pulled up the search box, typed in 'Canyon' and pulled up the most recent emails. A long list of emails filled the screen with the word Canyon highlighted. Several mentioned the Canyon Crew and she sorted them again, her face paling as they began to read through them.

  Hudson shook his head. “Who is the Canyon Crew?”

  Gracie sat back in her chair, feeling sick. “It's us. It's almost everyone that runs Canyon in one way or another. I run the supply shop in Maintenance; Kristi and Kari run accounting; Julie runs the front desk, Mac is the location manager, and Steve runs Maintenance.”

  The emails were clear. Lester intended to disband the Canyon Crew and send them to different locations, as far away from each other as he could get them. Gracie swallowed hard, trying not to be sick. Her Yellowstone life had always been in Canyon, it was her home. She could never survive in Mammoth or Old Faithful.