You Will Never Leave: A psychological suspense thriller

by Hinkens, N. L.

  "Easy!" Blair said. "I’ll get it. Maybe Sandy’s sick or something." She pulled a sweatshirt over her head, shivering in the brisk, morning air. Matt flew past her in his boxers, peering through the blinds before cautiously cracking the door. "Sam! What's up?"

  "Are you … are you guys okay?" he asked in a wavering voice.

  Blair joined Matt at the door, her pulse quickening at the sight of Sam hunched over on the doorstep, white as a sheet, his arresting blue eyes swimming in fear. She flung the door open, reached for his arm and tugged him inside. "Come in! What's wrong? Is it Duke?"

  Sam shook his head, a haunted look gripping him. "He’s fine. I left him in the trailer."

  "Sit down, I’ll make some coffee," Blair said.

  "What’s going on?" Matt asked.

  Sam slumped down at the dining table and plunged his hands through his hair. "I can’t believe it."

  Matt slid onto the bench opposite him. "Talk to me. What’s wrong, man?"

  Sam gulped a mouthful of air, seemingly at a loss as to how to proceed. "I came here to forget …"

  Blair winced at the anguish in his voice as she spooned coffee grounds into the French press. He must be referring to his climbing partner who’d fallen to his death.

  "And now this," Sam went on, almost as though he was talking to himself.

  "Now what?" Matt demanded, an impatient edge creeping into his voice. "Has something happened?"

  Sam loosed a ragged breath before composing himself. "I took Duke for a walk this morning on the hiking trail that leads up to the lake. Halfway up, I let him off the leash for a bit. All of a sudden, he began barking like crazy and took off. I thought he might have spotted a bear or something. I freaked out and started whistling for him, but he didn’t come back. When I caught up to him, he was sniffing at something beneath the brush."

  Sam fastened a panic-stricken gaze on Matt. "It was a body—a man. I was afraid it was you at first, but he was older, bald." Sam shook his head, scrunching up his eyes as though to block the memory from resurfacing.

  Blair swallowed down the bile rising up her throat. Her hands trembled and the spoon she was holding fell into the sink with a loud rattle.

  Matt flashed her a concerned look before turning his attention back to Sam. "Any idea what happened to him?"

  Sam wrung his hands on the table in front of him. "I didn’t look too closely. He was half-buried in the undergrowth. But I think there was a … a knife sticking out of his belly."

  Blair let out a horrified bleat, reaching for the edge of the counter for support.

  Matt’s expression darkened. His chest heaved silently up and down as he clenched and unclenched his fists, as though weighing up everything Sam had told them. He got to his feet and began to pace. "He can’t have been dead for long if the body hasn’t been disturbed by animals."

  "What are you thinking?" Blair asked, recognizing by his agitated demeanor that he was chewing on something.

  He came to a sudden halt, his posture rigid. "There’s a good chance the killer’s still out there."

  Blair stole a frightened look in Sam’s direction. "Are you sure he was stabbed? Maybe he had a heart attack or something."

  Sam rubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw. "I can take you to the body if you want to see for yourselves."

  They fell silent for a long moment, and then Blair said, "We’re going to have to bury him."

  "Not if he’s been stabbed," Matt responded, his face set in a stiff frown. "We can’t move him. We have to notify the authorities."

  "Then we should take some pictures at least," Blair proposed. "Maybe bring Hazel with us. She’s a retired nurse, so she might be able to confirm how he died."

  Sam frowned. "What about the other campers? Shouldn’t we tell them what’s happened—warn them? Like you said, the killer could still be out there."

  Matt drew his brows together. "Let's hold off until we verify it was murder. No sense in freaking everyone out prematurely."

  Sam got to his feet. "If we’re going back up to the body, I'm bringing Duke."

  Matt escorted him to the door. "We’ll fetch Hazel and meet you back here in a few minutes."

  "I’ll bring my phone," Blair said, unplugging it from the charger. "It’s got a good camera."

  Matt disappeared into the bedroom and emerged a moment later, dressed in jeans and a thick sweatshirt.

  After donning their outerwear, they locked the door behind them and strode off in the direction of Hazel's trailer. Blair rubbed her arms briskly in the cold air as they walked. The wind was kicking up and the threat of another stormy day hung in the air. Matt’s eyes roved constantly over the road ahead and behind them, ensuring no one was lurking in the shadows. An ominous air as heavy as the pregnant clouds above them had settled over the campground, dispelling any hope of the beneficial detour Blair had naively hoped might unfold.

  When they reached Hazel's trailer, Blair rapped her knuckles on the door. "Hazel! It's Blair and Matt. We need your help." She listened for a moment, and then hammered on the door again. "Anyone home?"

  "Try knocking on her bedroom window," Matt suggested. "She might still be asleep."

  "I don't want to give her a heart attack," Blair said. "I’ll try the door one more time first." She knocked again and held her breath, listening for footsteps. After a moment, she heard a muffled call from inside the trailer, and then the sound of the door being unlocked. Seconds later, Hazel cracked the door a few inches and peered out at them in a semi-comatose trance, her wiry, gray hair standing on end. Her eyes flicked a calculating look from Blair to Matt. "Everything all right?"

  "Sam found a body," Blair blurted out. "On the hiking trail up to the lake."

  Hazel's eyes widened, her expression alert. "Is it one of the other campers?"

  Matt shook his head. "Sam doesn't recognize him."

  "Him?" Hazel echoed.

  "It's an older man," Matt responded.

  Hazel opened the door all the way and motioned for them to come inside. She sank down on the couch maintaining a calm demeanor as she attempted to smooth her tousled hair. "And Sam’s sure this man is … dead?"

  Blair nodded. "He thinks he was stabbed in the stomach. Can you come with us and take a look? We need to confirm what’s happened and then one of us will have to head out and notify the authorities."

  Hazel rubbed her fingers back-and-forth across her forehead as if digesting everything she’d been told. "Let me put on some clothes." She disappeared into the bathroom and stepped out a few minutes later fully dressed in the same outfit she’d worn the day before. "So, assuming this guy was killed," she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "The killer could still be out there—hiding along the trail somewhere. Maybe we should arm ourselves."

  "There’s safety in numbers," Matt answered. "Sam’s coming too. No one’s going to attack a group of four with a German shepherd in tow. Let’s confirm that this guy was killed first before we start worrying about how to defend ourselves." He pulled out a folding survival knife and flashed the blade briefly in front of Hazel. "If it makes you feel any better, I have this."

  Hazel slipped her arms into a black puffer jacket and pulled a wool cap down over her ears. She grabbed a pair of rubber gloves from beneath the sink and stuffed them into her pockets. "All right, let’s do this."

  Matt watched as she locked her trailer door behind her. "Check it again, make sure it's locked," he insisted.

  Hazel raised her brows a fraction but did as he asked.

  They hurried back to find Sam leaning against Matt’s truck waiting for them, Duke at his feet. Hazel walked right up to Sam and embraced him. "I'm so sorry you were the one to find him."

  Sam twisted his lips. "It was like it was happening all over again—finding Andy."

  Matt threw a harried glance over his shoulder. "Let's walk and talk. I want to get there and back before the other campers are up and about. No sense in freaking the honeymooners out before we know what we're dealing
with. Or Harvey and his sick wife, either."

  "He’s talking about the older couple who pulled in late yesterday afternoon," Blair explained to Hazel and Sam. "Harvey’s wife, Sandy, is sick. I'm not sure what's wrong with her. We didn't get to talk to her."

  They made their way down the road and onto the hiking trail. Duke trotted obediently at Sam’s side, sniffing at interesting scents in passing.

  "That’s one smart dog," Hazel commented.

  Sam gave an appreciative nod. "He's a good companion."

  Blair cast a wary glance over at Duke. He seemed to have gathered that she wasn’t a dog person and was keeping his distance. By the same token, she was thankful to have him along. She felt the same way about dogs as she did about guns. She didn’t care for them, but she could appreciate that they had their place and purpose in the right hands.

  "How much farther?" Hazel asked.

  "About a quarter mile or so," Sam replied. "The body’s not too far off the trail. Whoever killed him didn't make much effort to bury him. Just stacked a bunch of brush on top."

  Blair’s stomach churned. As horrific as it sounded, everything Sam had told them so far seemed to indicate that the man had been murdered. Why else had the body been covered up? She couldn't help wondering if someone from the hunting party camping up by the lake had killed the man. After all, Sam seemed to think he’d died of a stab wound. And a hunting party would have no shortage of knives. She felt sick thinking about how this was going to affect Matt. His insomnia would be in overdrive tonight. Of all the things that could have happened to them—she’d take a flat tire over this any day. They’d set out on this trip to get away from Matt’s bloody memories of war. But it seemed death was destined to follow him wherever he went.

  They fell silent when Sam informed them that they were almost at the spot. Apart from the early morning twittering of birds in the trees overhead, and the occasional squelching sound of the group’s footsteps along the muddy trail, an eerie stillness permeated the atmosphere. Almost as if the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting for a verdict. Blair couldn’t help but notice that Matt had taken up the rear, his military instincts kicking in. If the killer was roaming the wooded mountainside, he had no intention of being caught by surprise.

  Duke broke the silence with a series of resonant barks as he suddenly darted across to the left side of the trail, straining against his leash. Sam led the way through the undergrowth, coming to a halt next to a pile of brush stacked in front of a fallen log. "This is the place."

  They gathered around and stared down in horror at the dirt-covered face of an elderly man peeking out from beneath the brush. He looked to be in his early seventies. A beetle scurried down his veined cheek and disappeared under the collar of his checked shirt. A shiver went down Blair’s spine. An ominous reminder that it wouldn’t be long before an army of insects descended on the body, intent on claiming their share of the spoils. They had to get an ambulance out here as quickly as possible.

  Hazel knelt next to the man and pulled on her yellow rubber gloves. She brushed a leafy twig from the torso and leaned down to examine the wound on his belly.

  "Any other stab wounds?" Matt asked, his eyes still roaming their perimeter.

  "I don’t think so," Hazel said, continuing her careful inspection of the body. She checked the man’s arms and legs for any sign of injury and then pulled down his collar and studied his neck.

  Matt darted another furtive glance around them and took a knee next to the body. He stared at it for a long moment before locking eyes with Hazel. "Are you seeing what I’m seeing?"

  "Blood in the eyes, heavy bruising around the neck—possible ligature marks." She got to her feet slowly and pulled off her gloves. "The stab wound was inflicted after he died. Someone strangled him."

  4

  Blair flinched when an ice-cold raindrop landed on the back of her neck. She cast a harried glance up at the darkening sky as she threw up her hood. "We need to make a plan. It's about to start pouring again."

  Matt clenched his jaw and began pacing. "Whatever we do, we can't move the body. We should cover it up as best we can without disturbing it and then head back to the campground. We need to get everyone together, let the others know what’s going on, and decide who's going to head down the mountain to notify the police." He came to a sudden halt as if something had occurred to him, and then hunkered down next to the body and dug through the man’s pockets. After a moment, he let out a frustrated breath and stood back up. "No ID. Blair, get out your phone and take some pictures."

  She fished around in her coat and pulled out her phone with shaking fingers. Reluctantly, she moved closer to the body. "Should I … I mean … do we need close-ups?"

  ‘’Yes, close-ups of his face and side profile," Hazel said. "Also, the wound on his stomach, and the knife—there’s a brand name on the handle. Then we’ll need a few full-length photos that show his approximate height and the position of the body."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Blair caught Sam turning away, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of it all was too much for him to bear. He patted Duke’s head distractedly, staring into the distance at the hunters’ tents up at the lake.

  "Better get a move on," Matt urged. "The rain’s really starting to come down now."

  Blair took a series of shots from various angles and then slipped her phone into her coat pocket. "That'll have to do. I don’t want to ruin my phone in this rain."

  Matt reached for some brush and began to scatter it loosely over the body.

  "There's no guarantee the body will still be here by the time the police arrive," Hazel said sounding dubious. "Maybe we should wrap him in a tarp and bring him back to the campground with us."

  "For now, we should treat it as a crime scene," Matt said. "We can reconsider if the police don’t make it here before dark."

  The rain pummeled them relentlessly on their return trip to the campground, and, within minutes, the first crackle of thunder pealed out overhead. The trail quickly morphed into a mud bath and, more than once, Blair almost lost her footing. They could scarcely see five feet in front of them, which made the hike back down a terrifying proposition. The only consolation was that the killer’s visibility would be equally hampered if he was anywhere in the vicinity.

  As they staggered into the campground, Matt yelled to Blair above the ruckus, "Take Hazel and Sam inside. I'm going to knock on the other trailers and round up everyone so we can figure out what to do."

  Blair unlocked the trailer with icy fingers, and Hazel stumbled inside after her. Shivering, they pulled off their coats and muddy boots and dumped everything by the door.

  "Where did Sam go?" Blair asked.

  "He's taking Duke back to his trailer," Hazel replied. "He’ll be right over."

  On autopilot, Blair lit the stove and filled the kettle, then cranked up the heat before exhaling a long whoosh. "I’m in shock. Any theories on what happened out there, or who he is?"

  "No idea," Hazel replied, rubbing her hands together and blowing into them.

  "He could be one of the hunters camping up by the lake," Blair suggested.

  "It’s possible." A flicker of a frown crossed Hazel’s face. "Or perhaps that’s his camper van—next to Sam’s trailer. For all we know, one of the hunters could have killed him."

  "I have to admit, the thought struck me too," Blair said as she lined up some mugs on the countertop and lifted down a small Tupperware container of sugar. "I feel bad in a way. I mean, I haven’t even met them, yet here I am speculating that one of them is a murderer. And I’m always telling my husband not to judge people."

  Hazel fixed a penetrating gaze on Blair. "None of us knows each other at all. That makes us vulnerable."

  Blair shifted her stance uncomfortably. "Now you sound just like Matt. He tends to be a bit paranoid about strangers."

  "You’ll live longer that way than being too naive," Hazel retorted.

  They broke off their conversatio
n as the door flew open and Matt came in out of the howling wind, followed by Harvey and the young honeymooners.

  "This is Logan and Whitney," Matt said, unbuttoning his jacket.

  Blair nodded to them. "Hi, I’m Blair, Matt’s wife, nice to—"

  "I'm not sure what this is all about," Logan cut in, shaking the water out of his shaggy, blond hair and looking around the room with narrowed eyes. "Was it absolutely necessary to drag us out in the middle of a storm?"

  "It’s freezing out there," Whitney complained in a breathless, high-pitched twang. She hugged her arms dramatically around her body. "And we saw lightning on the way over."

  "We’ll get to the point of the meeting in a minute," Matt said. "Why don’t you all take a seat and make yourselves comfortable while we wait for Sam."

  Whitney and Logan sat down on the couch while Harvey sank his large frame into one of the captain's chairs opposite them.

  "Is your wife not coming?" Blair inquired, handing around steaming mugs of coffee and tea.

  Harvey wrinkled his brow. "Sandy’s not well enough to come out in this downpour."

  "I’m sorry to hear your wife’s not doing so good," Hazel responded. "Is she recovering from the flu or something? It’s going around."

  Harvey scratched the back of his neck, revealing an ace of spades tattoo on his inner wrist. Blair had never been a fan of tattoos, but when Matt had come back from his last deployment with an inked helmet resting on a rifle emblazoned on his left shoulder to commemorate his fallen comrades, she’d decided the tribute outweighed her preconceived notions about body art.

  "Sandy has cancer." Harvey let out a weighty sigh. "She finished her final round of chemo last month. We were hoping to get the all clear from her doctor, but the latest scans were ... not good." He frowned, as if recollecting the moment they’d been given the dire news. "She’s frail and on a bunch of medication—it makes her all groggy and confused. They wanted to talk to us about hospice, but we decided we’d rather take off in our RV. Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get, when you can get it."