“Hey, wait a minute. So you knew Jack back then?”
“Of course, who didn’t?” he laughed. “He’s been around a very long time.”
“How in the world did you know Jack?” Impulsively I decided to take a long shot. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. He took you in too. Right?”
“How did you know that?” Clay asked, caught off guard by my remark.
“Sometimes, I’m just psychic,” I replied, smugly.
Oh, brother. This was really getting interesting.
“Okay. Let’s back up just a bit. How exactly did you meet Jack?”
“How did you know Jack took me in?” Clay demanded to know.
“Uh, uh. I asked first, remember?” I shot back, inflexibly crossing my arms.
He saw the look I threw back at him, reluctantly relented, and slowly began to give me more of his personal history. “My aunt tried her best, but when I was in my teens, I was feeling my oats with energy to burn. By then, she was much older and just couldn’t keep up with me. She thought of Jack, and asked him a favor.”
“I know,” I said, interrupting him. “Keep you busy during the summer with odd jobs at his construction firm.”
What was Jack running there, a summer camp?
“How do you know all this?” Clay asked, mystified. “For someone who claims not to know that many people here, you sure have acquired a lot of information for a new comer.”
“I have my sources,” I answered. He started to ask what they were, but I raised my hand. “Wait, I’m not finished with my questions yet.”
“I was afraid of that. What else? No, don’t tell me. You’re starting to scare me.”
“Clay, tell me the truth. Did you know Stephen? I mean was he there the summers you were there, at the construction firm?”
He paused, just a bit too long for me. “…No. But I heard about him though.”
“Explain,” I insisted firmly.
“The summers I spent there ended the summer before Stephen arrived. I heard about him later from my aunt after I left for college.” A strange look slowly passed through him and then was gone. He looked me in the eye. “That’s why I said he was the same one, but we apparently weren’t there the same time. I missed him by one season.”
Odd he should put it that way.
He rubbed his forehead. “I always meant to…”
Just then Jack walked up, surprising us both. “Well, hi, you two. I didn’t know you knew one another.”
Clay and I looked at each other not sure what to say, surprised by this unexpected interruption. I was so caught up in our conversation I hadn’t seen Jack enter the diner.
“We’re neighbors,” Clay said.
Oh, that’s right, you met the night of that God awful storm.” He turned to me. “I guess you were one lucky young lady, Sam.”
“…Yes …I was,” I replied, curious about the unexpected tension in the air.
Jack turned to Clay. “And you rescued her. Didn’t you? How fortunate.” I felt something pass from Jack to Clay with those words, but Clay didn’t reply.
I felt uneasy. This was all I knew for sure: Stephen had been murdered. What was I doing, involving myself like this? Nervously, I looked at my watch and grabbed my laptop. “…I’ve got to go. Didn’t realize it was so late. See you two later. Bye.”
I practically flew out of the diner. But once I was outside, I glanced back through the diner window. The two men were deep in conversation, Jack gesturing to Clay.
Now, what in the world was that all about?
I headed toward my shop, feeling anxious. Was Clay was being truthful, or was his performance Oscar-worthy? And who was Jack, really? What was he doing taking in all those boys when they were in trouble, a Good Samaritan? I still didn’t know enough yet, and as usual, my unanswered questions were spilling out all over me and onto the sidewalk.
Chapter 20
Things Aren’t What They Appear To Be
A few days later I was back at the shop. I had gone there to drop off items and rearrange some new pieces. I needed to reshuffle things in my mind, which was rapidly turning to mush with all the information I had gathered in the last several weeks. I tried in vain to piece them together, but nothing clicked no matter how long I sat staring at those facts.
So far, my tales of the construction summer camp were making interesting reading on my laptop, at least for me anyway, and hopefully generating one heck of a book. The sidebars of information thrown at me were fascinating too, as I quickly discovered I couldn’t seem to write about anything else.
I was willingly lured into this narrative, figuring it just might be true, and was becoming more intrigued by everyone I interviewed. They were an odd cast of characters. Could I get through this maze and actually escape all of it unscathed? I had to laugh.
Now, that was fiction.
Speaking of one such character, Martha stormed in at that precise moment. After slamming the door, she came right up to me, nose to nose. Boy, was she angry and wagging her finger right in my face. “I got that bastard fired! I did!” She was breathing heavily and clearly upset.
I nearly fell backwards. “Who? What bastard? Martha, do you realize you just swore? You never swear.”
I never could get a grip on any of our conversations once she launched into a tirade, and this definitely qualified as a huge one.
“He acted all innocent like, treating me polite and everything. Yes, ma’am this, and yes, ma’am that, anything else, ma’am? I don’t know how I could have been so stupid.”
“Martha, calm down. Please have a seat.”
She shook her head.
“I’m too upset to sit down. I have a mind to go to the police. I might just do that, what with all the nuts that are running around here lately. It’s downright dangerous out there.”
“Police? What are you talking about? Did someone try to hurt you?”
Her face went scarlet. “Hurt me? Hurt me? He damn near killed me that’s what! That drugstore-soda fountain combination shop is proving to be a deadly idea!”
That quickened my interest. “Okay,” I said evenly. “First, take a breath, calm down and sit, while I go get you a glass of cold water. Then you can explain it all to me.”
She finally agreed and was sitting when I returned with the water. She took a few small sips.
“You know, I thought they were on to something there. Was I off the mark on that one!”
“Tell me what happened.”
She had finally dropped a notch from her frenzied state. “Well, last night on my way home from work I thought I’d stop at the soda fountain and get you an ice cream sundae. You’ve been working so many hours and I wanted to do something for you. So I ordered one for you from that cute soda jerk, thinking I’d drop it off here on my way home.
“After I ordered, I remembered to pick up my Rx across the store, you know, my arthritis medicine. I saw Mary there and we got to talking, and then I saw your car drive by, heading home. I remembered the ice cream waiting at the fountain, and figured I might as well not waste it and would take it home myself. I went back, told him to pack it up, and went right home. I threw it in the freezer and took a shower, looking forward to relaxing afterward and eating it.
“Well, later on, I sat in my rocker and started enjoying my first spoonful when the damn phone rang. I ran to answer it and sure enough, it was my cousin all up in arms about her neighbor, and I had to calm her down and all. That’s when I started to feel an upset stomach coming on. Then I remembered that ice cream tasting a little funny. I quickly hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom and was as sick as a dog for hours.
“When I woke up the next morning, I found myself slumped over my bed with ice cream melted all over the place. What a mess it was too. It took me a long time to clean all that up. Had to flush what was left in the container down the sink. You know you can’t refreeze ice cream. Then it dawned on me. That bastard sold me bad ice cream. I should have known better. Kid probably doesn�
�t know which end is up. He shouldn’t be working there, if he can’t tell bad ice cream from good. Hey, Sam, what’s wrong?”
I stood there, speechless. Now, it was my turn to sit down. My head was spinning. Ice Cream. Bad. I was sure everyone there heard her order for me.
Poison? Mine! Oh, God. Coincidence? Not likely.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
“God almighty, Samantha. You don’t look too good. You don’t have to get that concerned over me. I’m okay, now.”
I tried to speak, but couldn’t. “I…”
“Put your head down and breathe. Gosh, you young people don’t hold up well under stress do you?” She ran and got a cold cloth for the back of my neck. “I appreciate you being so concerned for me. I really do. Now, take it easy. Really, I’m fine now.”
My ice cream! Poison! The possibility shook me. I felt dizzy again.
“You know, maybe you should go home, Samantha. You don’t look that great. You look kind of green. I can handle the shop today by myself. I’ll lock up too.”
Gradually, as Martha gently rubbed my back, I began to breathe normally again. “Martha, did you by some chance save any of that ice cream?”
“What?” She looked at me like I had two heads. “Are you crazy? Why in the world would I want to save melted ice cream? It smelled, I can tell you that much.” She went on staring at me.
How could I explain what was racing through my mind, when I didn’t understand any of it myself? “Hey, would you do me a favor Martha?”
“Sure… Samantha. What?” she replied cautiously.
“In the future don’t order me anymore ice cream, okay?”
“You’re kidding me right?”
“No.”
She grabbed my hand, pulled me upright, firmly handed me my purse and laptop, and then led me to the door. “You need to go home right this minute and get some rest. You’ve been working way too much lately.” She turned back to the counter, snatched up Sneakers and handed him to me. “Oh, and don’t forget your cat. Now get.”
For a moment I stood out on the sidewalk after she firmly shut the door behind me, not knowing what to do next. I turned and stared back at the closed door, realizing that I had just been thrown out of my own store. I apparently didn’t even have the strength left to fight a seventy year old.
Chapter 21
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 che
cked 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.
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