by Jen Blood
Overhead, a bald eagle soared close enough for Megan to see his white head. He was flying toward the river. Good fishing and hunting grounds at the river, she remembered Justin telling her once. Everybody needs a drink now and then. That’s where we want to be. Pick those deer off one by one, baby girl.
She shivered at the memory of his voice. Would the shooter be moving in that direction, for exactly that reason? What if he were there waiting for them?
Unnerved at the thought, she pushed it aside. They had to do something, and going toward open water was the surest way she knew for searchers to find them.
“Okay,” she said, after only four minutes had passed. “Pack your trash. Let’s get moving again.”
They struck out without following a trail, Megan focused on making the descent as quickly and as safely as they could. She figured it would take about three hours as long as the weather held, and they would reach the river.
Behind them, she imagined the sniper loading his gun. Following their tracks – because right now, she knew they were leaving a trail behind. If he looked in the right place, he would find them.
“Step up the pace,” she said to Violet and Ava, the two traveling in front of her. “You can do this. You’ve done harder things than this in your lives. Just keep moving.”
Weary but determined, that was exactly what they did.
Chapter 12
Flint K-9 Search and Rescue
February 5, 3:30 a.m.
“I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, baby girl.”
That voice again, sickly sweet and terrifyingly familiar. I was in the woods, though not in Bethel. The snow gone. Instead, the trees were in full bloom, the sky dark overhead. There was a cabin off to my right, another to my left.
I needed to get home. I didn’t want to be back here.
“Let me walk you to your room,” the voice said, somewhere behind me. I remembered those words from nearly twenty years ago, but felt none of the anticipation I had then. My stomach rolled, fear prickling my skin. It’s just a dream, I told myself. The fear remained.
“Look at me when I talk to you, sweetheart.”
I froze. Slowly, unable to refuse, I turned on the path.
Instead of the man I expected, however, a figure in black stood before me.
“Stay out of this, baby girl,” he said to me, in Brock’s voice. “This is my business, nobody else’s.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
He took a step toward me. Phantom was suddenly beside me, though she hadn’t been before. She bared her teeth, hackles raised.
“Easy,” I said to the dog. The man stared at her, and I saw fear in blue eyes. “I thought you liked dogs,” I said.
“I’m not him,” the man said. “Don’t make that mistake. I’m my own man.”
“Your own kind of demon,” I said, recalling distantly that Brock had said that to me, once. He laughed, showing his teeth.
“That’s right, baby girl. I’m my own kind of demon. Leave me to my business, and you’ll be just fine.” Phantom wasn’t growling anymore, but she still sat alert by my side. Above us, the clouds darkened. “Tell your people to let this go. I’ve got business in these woods. This is my world now.”
“We’re bringing Megan and those other women home,” I said. “We’re not leaving without them.”
“Then you’re not leaving here,” the man said simply. “You’ve been burned before – I promise you, he was nothing compared to me. I’m the devil, baby girl. He was just a bad imitation.”
He walked back into the woods, the clouds so dark now that I could barely see him as he disappeared into the trees.
I looked down, and realized that I stood on a wooden box shaped like a coffin, but several times larger. Beside it was a pile of dirt. I knelt in the cool earth and reached my hands in. As though compelled by some force, I began dropping handfuls of the dirt onto the box at my feet. With every handful dropped, it seemed the box grew another foot longer.
“You can’t keep that thing buried, sweetheart,” Brock said. “Dig all you want. There’s not enough dirt on the planet to keep that thing underground.”
I looked up, my hands still clutching a fistful of dirt. Brock stood there – the real Brock this time, flesh rotting from his skull.
“I need to do this,” I said.
He shook his head. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Keep at it. It’s your funeral.”
I worked harder, putting my back into it, trying to move just a little bit more earth at a time. The box just kept getting bigger, though, while the pile of dirt beside me continued to shrink.
I woke with a stone in my gut, the room still dark. Phantom snored softly at the end of the bed.
I’m the devil, baby girl. He was just a bad imitation.
I pushed past a wave of nausea and delved deeper into the dream. So that first voice – the one I kept hearing in the woods – wasn’t Brock. He’d said as much, in my dream. I didn’t know why I was hearing Brock’s voice, or how I’d somehow locked into this stranger’s experiences, but I had. I felt sure of that now.
Whoever the man in my dreams was, this was the shooter.
I rolled over and looked at the clock. 3:35 a.m. Definitely too early to get up. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Brock’s face appeared on the back of my eyelids, as though burned there. My hand drifted to my side, tracing the rough, raised patch of skin that ran just below my breast all the way down to my upper thigh. Brock’s gift to me, eight years ago. Something to remember him by.
“It’s good to be back, sweetheart,” a voice said, just behind my left ear. A breath, a breeze, something tangible crept across my skin. I jumped, as though burned yet again. “I’ve missed you, James.”
I clenched my teeth through the sudden clutch of fear that gripped me. I’d already established that this wasn’t Brock, hadn’t I? But even as I thought it, I wondered if I were wrong. What if somehow, the presence of this new force in my thoughts had provided an opening for Brock – or his spirit, whatever thread was left of him – to find his way back to me?
“Go back to hell,” I whispered into the darkness.
“Not without you,” Brock said into my ear.
The night closed in around me. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, the way I had against the voices as a child. Slowly, I felt the presence weaken, then disappear completely.
Exhausted, terrified, I waited for sleep to come once more.
#
The others were still asleep when I woke again at five o’clock. I got up, dressed, and took Phantom out while it was still dark outside, though there were lights on inside the mobile search and rescue unit and plenty of reporters still milling around the parking lot. I avoided everyone, and directed the dog toward the back of the inn. My mind was still locked on the dream I’d had, and the exchange afterward. Had I been asleep then? Or had I imagined the voice, so real that I could feel his breath on my skin?
The alternative – that Brock truly had somehow found a way back to me – was unthinkable.
It was just below freezing now, and we’d already done a type 2 search of the entire area where we’d found the women the night before. I didn’t have a clue where the wardens would want to send searchers today. Despite the cold, I couldn’t help but revel in the clear air. Phantom seemed likewise invigorated, mouth open in a toothy grin, tail waving as we headed down an icy path toward the back of the hotel.
I’d received no report that Michelle and her team had found anyone else while they were searching overnight. If they had, I was sure she would have let me know before now.
“All right, Phan,” I said to my shepherd. “Get a little energy out, but take it easy. I don’t know what kind of day we’ve got in store.”
Phantom started to wander off to do her business, but stopped abruptly. She turned on the path, ears pricked forward, tail still waving. I likewise turned, and smiled at sight of Bear and Casper headed toward us. I was surprised Ren and Minion weren’t with them, but then rem
embered the dark mood in the house when we first got back last night. There was definitely something going on there.
“Morning, Phan,” Bear greeted the shepherd, giving her head a quick pat.
Casper held still long enough for me to give him a similar greeting, but then play bowed three times in succession in front of Phantom, hopping from one spot to the next while the shepherd held still glaring at him. To my surprise, however, on the third bow, she reciprocated – going down on her front paws with a low woof before she darted away. For a second, Casper was too dumbfounded to move. Really? You really want to play?
The paralysis didn’t last long, though. Half a second later, the pit bull was on the move, darting after Phantom with such speed and vigor that I was afraid it would be too much for the older dog. I was grateful when he slowed his approach the closer he got, however, and the most he did when they caught up was bump up against Phantom before he backed off.
Bear and I stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, laughing out loud at the dogs’ antics. Finally, when Phantom and Casper had both slowed down and were just meandering around the clearing, I shifted focus back to my son.
“Did you sleep all right? Is the room comfortable?”
“Definitely,” he said. “Jack’s a lot quieter sleeper than Monty. He talks in his sleep, but at least he doesn’t snore.” Monty was my second-in-command out on the island, someone Bear had bunked with more than his share over the years.
“He talks in his sleep?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Could you tell what he was saying?”
He shook his head. “Not really, no. Just mumbling. Sounded like maybe he was having a bad dream. Still, it’s a lot better than trying to sleep with Monty in the next bed.”
“I’m glad to hear the room assignment worked out,” I said. I wondered about the dream. Would Jack tell me if I asked him about it? I suspected the nightmares weren’t new, and thought yet again of the wife he’d lost.
“Do you know what the schedule’s supposed to be today?” Bear asked, interrupting my thoughts. “I really want to get out and start doing some searching.”
“I’m not sure how they’ll approach that today. There’s potentially still a shooter out there,” I reminded him. “Do we really want to put the dogs at risk like that?”
“Then I’ll leave the dogs home and go out with the ground pounders,” he said with a shrug. “It’s stupid just sitting around in the lodge while everyone else is out looking.”
“You and Ren didn’t seem to mind it so much last night when you got sidelined.”
He merely grunted. So much for subtlety. “If you want to talk about whatever’s going on between the two of you…” I began.
Another grunt. Then, before I could follow up, he countered with a question of his own. “Does Hogan have a thing for Megan Hunter?”
The question was so unexpected that I had to pause before responding, unsure how to frame my answer. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. He just seems weird about her,” Bear said. “Plus he looks like crap. I don’t think he’s been sleeping.”
“Hogan says they’re just friends.”
“Right,” Bear said, with a snort. “Just friends. I know how that goes.” The bitterness in the words surprised me.
“He may have feelings that she doesn’t return,” I said carefully. “That’s never an easy thing to handle.”
Bear looked at me sideways, then returned his focus to the dogs. Phantom had long since tired of playing with Casper, but Casper was still doing everything in his power to re-engage her.
“Has that ever happened to you?” Bear asked, surprising me.
“Has what ever happened to me?”
“You liking someone, and they don’t like you back.”
Ah. That. I considered the question, surprised when Hogan’s face flashed in my mind. “It has,” I admitted. “A few times. I think it happens to everyone, at some point or other.” I paused. Should I continue with the charade that we were talking about someone else, or did I give up the ghost and just ask outright?
“Bear, I know how much Ren cares about you…”
His jaw tensed. He stared into the distance, unable to meet my gaze. “She’s going away, you know,” he said, after a second’s tortured silence.
“Eventually,” I agreed. “But you both have another year of school. A lot can happen in that time.”
“No,” he said. He shook his head vigorously. “I’m not supposed to say anything, because Carl hasn’t talked to you yet. But they’re leaving. There’s some stupid job in California…and it’s not even a stupid job.” He sighed, working hard to keep himself together. “God, this sucks.”
Though this was the first I’d officially heard of Ren’s father leaving, I wasn’t completely surprised – particularly at mention of California. There was a program Carl had spoken of before, working with Nigerian refugees suffering from PTSD. Though Carl had been trained as a dog handler, he didn’t have the passion for it that the rest of us did; I wasn’t surprised to think he might leave it behind to work with people instead.
I thought of all the things I could say. Maybe it won’t happen – maybe they’ll stay; you can keep in touch online; she can still visit in the summer. All of it pointless for my son right now. Instead, I rubbed his back the way I used to when he was a little boy.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That does suck.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It totally does.”
We stood that way for a while, Bear leaning toward me just slightly, my hand resting on his broad back. Against my will, Brock’s voice returned to me – the mocking laugh that I had heard yesterday out in the woods. Despite everything, Brock truly had loved Bear. I never would have agreed to come back to Maine if he hadn’t, and certainly wouldn’t have stayed. Unfortunately, the way Brock treated me killed any chance he might have had for a good relationship with his only heir. I wondered, though, if Brock had ever tried to make contact with Bear after that fateful night in his home eight years ago.
As though sensing the turn my thoughts had taken, Bear turned to glance at me. “Yesterday when we were in the woods, you heard something, didn’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. I’ve been wondering about something, actually.”
Casper had gotten bored with being ignored by Phantom, and returned to Bear with expectation in his eyes. Time to play. Bear pulled a tennis ball from his pocket and tossed it across the clearing. Then, he turned to me, waiting for me to continue.
“What exactly were you wondering about?” he asked. “I’ve got some cool tricks up my sleeve, but I’m not a mind reader.”
I smiled, grateful for at least a little show of humor. “I was wondering if you ever hear voices. I know you see things, connect with spirits visually, but do you ever just hear a voice?”
“Not really,” he said. “There’s usually a visual that goes with it. Who are you hearing?” Was I imagining the tension in his voice, that sense that he already knew?
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I think it had something to do with this search, but the voice…” I paused, not sure how to continue. I almost regretted bringing it up in the first place.
“What about the voice?” he prompted.
I wet my lips, watching as Bear tossed the ball for Casper one more time before I spoke. “Since he died, have you seen Brock again?”
The tension returned to his jawline, extending to his entire body this time. “What did he say to you?” His voice was tight, and I caught an edge of fear there that did little for my own state of mind.
“He’s saying things that don’t make sense based on our history. Things like, ‘I told you I’d find you, baby girl.’ Brock never once called me baby girl – whoever this is says it all the time.”
“But you’re sure it’s his voice.”
“Positive.” Casper returned. Bear threw the ball once more as Phantom came trotting over.
“What else does he say?” B
ear asked.
“Creepy things that horrible people say, mostly,” I said, unwilling to be more specific than that. “Whoever it is I’m hearing has some issues. So you haven’t heard anything?”
He frowned. “I haven’t seen or heard Brock since the night he died. I’ve been a little surprised, to be honest. Grateful, but surprised. If the person you’re hearing is coming through with his voice, though…” He hesitated. “Have you heard anything that makes you think maybe Brock is there, too?”
I’ve missed you, sweetheart. The words sounded in my head yet again, the memory of his breath on my neck.
“Mom?” Bear pressed. I couldn’t find words to say it out loud. “Crap,” he said. “You’re giving him an opening. Maybe he just hasn’t had the chance to cross back all these years – but now, for whatever reason, you’re locked in this…echo, or whatever, that’s coming off the mountain. And that echo is manifesting as Brock, or his voice at least. But if that’s opening a door for him, you have to be careful.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I will. Please don’t worry about this – I’m sure there’s an explanation. Brock is dead and buried, and he has been for years now. He’s not coming back.”
Even as I said it, though, I heard that voice again. Bear was right: I was giving him an opening. And Brock had always been a man who took advantage of an opening when he saw one. Bear grimaced at my words, but he didn’t argue any further. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked back toward the lodge.
“I think I’ll go back and see if I can convince Ren to come out with Minion,” he said.
“Sounds like a good plan.”
“I was thinking maybe they could use some help out at the WildFire base,” he continued, eying me. “If we’re not allowed to work on the search with everyone, do you think it’d be cool for Ren and me to go over there? They have like twenty dogs. It’s crazy for Abe to try and handle the whole place himself.”
“That’s a great idea,” I agreed. “Depending on when they want the searchers to head out, we can probably give you a lift out there if you’d like.”