You Will Never Leave: A psychological suspense thriller

by Hinkens, N. L.

  Logan scowled as he got to his feet. "I don't know why we’re still going through with this."

  "Because it’s paying off. We’ve discovered some pretty serious discrepancies in everyone's story so far," Matt retorted. "Not to mention secret weapon stashes. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to declare, would you, Logan?"

  "Let's just cut the jabs and get this over with," Blair said exiting the camper van.

  A sullen Logan led the way to his campsite and unlocked his trailer. "You trash it, you clean it up," he warned them as he held the door open to let them in.

  "You and Whitney can wait outside under the awning if you want," Blair suggested. "It might be easier if you don't have to watch us going through your things."

  "Not gonna happen," Logan growled. "We’ll be right here making sure no one walks off with any of our stuff."

  Whitney followed them into the trailer and reached for a camel-colored leather purse on the counter. She rummaged around in it and pulled out a lip gloss, casually applying a layer as she sank down on the couch.

  Blair held out a hand for the purse. "I’ll need to take a look inside that too."

  "Don't be ridiculous!" Whitney cried.

  "It’s called being thorough," Blair replied sharply. "The contents of Hazel's purse proved to be very revealing,"

  "Yeah, but unlike Hazel, Whitney's not a killer," Logan snapped. "You’ve no right to look through her purse. Just get on with what you came here to do and then get out."

  In a flash, Matt shot out an arm and snatched the purse from Whitney's hands.

  "Hey! Give that back!" she yelled, jumping to her feet.

  Blair shoved her back down on the couch. "We’re not playing games here. This is a matter of life and death. Everyone needs to prove they are who they say they are. No exceptions."

  To Blair’s surprise, Whitney's eyes filled with tears. "I need my purse back."

  "You’ll get it back, just as soon as we search it," Blair said. "Stop being so dramatic and pull yourself together."

  Silently, Matt passed the purse to Blair. She unzipped it and tipped the contents onto the dining table. Miscellaneous make-up items, a hairbrush, a small planner, a pack of tissues, a tube of Burt’s Bee lip balm, and a pink Juicy Couture wallet. Blair reached for the wallet, furtively observing the agitated look Whitney fired in Logan's direction. Something was off with them. They had been cagey from the get-go. She’d put it down to the fact that they were on their honeymoon, but was there more to it than that? Maybe Hazel had noticed something was going on too. She might have realized early on that Logan was abusing Whitney—even as far back as when they’d first met at the gas station. That might have been why she was taking all those photographs, documenting everything.

  Blair opened the wallet in her hands, surprised to see no credit cards inside—only a single debit card. She pulled out the driver’s license and studied it for a moment before reading the details aloud. "Whitney Dolliver, 207 Creekside, Ketchum, Idaho. Pretty town to be from." She scrutinized the birthdate on the license for a moment, frowning in confusion. That couldn’t be right. She recalculated, and then whipped her head around to stare at Whitney. The look in the girl’s eyes told her everything.

  "You're only sixteen-years-old?" Blair said in an incredulous tone.

  After a tense moment, Whitney gave a defeated nod, tears sliding in quick succession down her cheeks.

  "You scumbag!" Matt hissed at Logan. "And don't try and tell me you're only sixteen too, ‘cause I know you’re lying. Show me your license."

  "I don't have to show you anything," Logan spat back. "Get out of my trailer, now! All of you!"

  Matt lunged at him, pinning him to the couch in an instant. "Search his pockets!" he called over his shoulder.

  Sam sprang into action and, seconds later, plucked a brown leather wallet from Logan’s back pocket. He flicked it open and slid out the driver’s license. "Logan Hutchins, 1611 Bedford Place, Ketchum, Idaho." He hesitated, a look of disgust on his face as he tossed the wallet on the dining table. "He’s twenty-four-years old."

  Blair let out a dismayed gasp.

  "You're a sorry excuse for a man," Rob said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Blair turned to Whitney. "Do your parents know you're here with Logan?"

  She shook her head, keeping her eyes downcast, her face blotchy from crying. "I told them I was going on a trip to celebrate my girlfriend’s birthday with the rest of her family."

  "So the honeymoon story was a bunch of baloney—I take it you two aren’t married at all?" Blair said.

  Whitney threw Logan a furtive look, sniffing back tears.

  Exasperated, Blair snatched up Logan's wallet. One-by-one, she pulled out all the cards and tossed them onto the table. Tucked in the last slot was a photo of a little boy around two-years-old. Blair held it up in front of Logan's face. "Is this your kid?"

  He curled his lip contemptuously and looked away.

  "That’s … Gavin," Whitney stammered. "I’m … I’m his babysitter."

  Sam shook his head incredulously at Logan. "Let me guess, you’re already married."

  Logan’s shameless sneer in response said it all.

  "Guys like you disgust me. You give the rest of us a bad name," Sam growled.

  "Worse than that—he’s a criminal," Rob added. "Whitney’s a minor and he took advantage of her when she was in his house looking after his kid."

  "Now I think I know what Hazel was doing," Blair said. "I’m guessing Logan's wife hired her. She probably had her suspicions that he was a philanderer, and boy was she ever right."

  Matt reached for Logan by the collar. "What did you do to Hazel?"

  "Get your hands off me, you raving lunatic!" Logan yelled back.

  "Let him go, Matt," Blair urged, sensing he was dancing on the edge of the danger zone, oblivious to everyone around him, fixated on the enemy in front of him.

  "What … did … you … do … to … her?" Matt shouted, shaking Logan with every breath.

  "Let him go, man," Sam said, wrestling his way between them. Rob took a step toward them too and then hesitated, as if belatedly remembering his broken arm.

  Matt glared over Sam’s shoulder at Logan for a long moment, before finally releasing him with a shove and stepping back.

  Whitney sat sobbing helplessly into her hands, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

  Matt’s expression was pasted into the kind of battle-ready grim determination that Blair knew only too well. She would have her work cut out for her to talk him down now.

  "We're not leaving here until you tell us what happened to Hazel," Matt said through gritted teeth.

  "I don’t know what happened to her," Logan insisted. "I didn't lay a hand on her."

  "Do you know where she is?" Blair asked.

  "I don't know, and I don't care. I hope the killer got her."

  "That's ironic, coming from you." Matt folded his arms across his chest. "I think I know how things might have gone down. You damaged her bedroom window and slit the screen, and then you knocked on her door to let her know you’d seen a suspicious figure at her campsite. Afterward, you accompanied her on a quick search around the trailer where you "discovered" the damage. And that’s when you killed her."

  "You’re out of your mind! I didn't even know she was taking those stupid pictures until Sam found the camera."

  "He has a point," Rob interjected. "What motive did he have to hurt Hazel?"

  "We only have his word for it that he didn't know what she was up to," Blair said. "And his word’s worth nothing. There's a good chance he caught her shooting photos of the trailer and put two and two together."

  Blair fastened a circumspect gaze on Whitney who was dabbing her mascara-rimmed eyes with a tissue. "Did you know what Hazel was doing?"

  "No.” Whitney sniffed and let out a weary sigh. "My parents are going to be so mad. I really want to go home."

  Blair rolled her eyes. "We all want to go home."

&
nbsp; "At this rate, we're not all going to get out of here alive," Sam said grimly.

  "Then we need to do everything in our power to tip the odds in our favor," Matt replied."

  Sam rubbed his jaw. "What are you suggesting?"

  Matt gestured to Logan. "Root out the bad apples. I say we begin by tying this punk up until he starts talking."

  17

  "You can’t do that. You're not in charge around here." Logan narrowed his eyes to slits as Sam and Matt closed in on him. "That’s unlawful detention."

  "In case you haven't noticed, we're a law unto ourselves with a murderer on the loose," Matt replied. "Someone needs to take the reins. And it sure isn't going to be you as long as I have a say in it." He gestured to Rob. "Block the doorway."

  "Wait! You can't tie him up!" Whitney pleaded, brushing away tears. "He didn't kidnap me. I agreed to go with him on this trip."

  "Was beating you up one of the perks he promised you?" Blair asked. "Because that’s illegal. You can have him prosecuted for abuse."

  Whitney gaped at her, eyes glistening. "He didn't mean to do it. He said he was sorry."

  "Is that what he’s planning to tell his wife too when he gets back home?" Blair shook her head in disgust. "His apology isn't worth the breath it took to launch it from his lying lips."

  Whitney opened her mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it. She threw Logan a tentative look while twisting the sodden tissue between her fingers.

  "I’ll grab some zip ties and rope from our trailer while you guys keep an eye on him," Blair said, throwing up her hood.

  As she made her way back through the rain to their campsite, she toyed with the possibility that Logan had done something to Hazel. She wouldn’t put it past him. He’d certainly proven he was capable of violence—abusing Whitney, and only too eager to raise a fist to Matt or anyone else who challenged him. If he’d caught Hazel spying on them, he might have erupted and lashed out in a moment of fury—inadvertently killed her and then panicked and hidden the body. The only other feasible alternative was that it had gone down more or less like Matt had described, with premeditation and cold calculation. Wherever the truth lay, Logan couldn’t be trusted.

  Armed with a bag of zip ties and a coil of rope she retrieved from the storage compartment, she hurried back to Logan’s and Whitney’s trailer.

  "You can make this as easy or difficult for yourself as you want,” Matt said, taking a step toward Logan. "Now, turn around slowly and put your hands behind your back."

  Without warning, Logan bolted for the door, elbowing Rob aside as he reached for the handle. Before he could wrench it open, Matt and Sam tackled him to the floor and secured his arms while he kicked and screamed and swore at them. "You’re gonna pay for this. I’ll hire a lawyer and sue you for everything you’ve got."

  "All in good time," Matt responded, sounding unfazed as he and Sam hoisted Logan to his feet and half-dragged him across to the door. Rob cut him an icy glare before stepping aside.

  "Where are you taking him?" Whitney whined.

  Sam threw her a look of pained sympathy. "He can’t stay here, that’s for sure."

  "Put him in with me if you want," Rob proposed.

  "You don’t want to listen to him ranting," Matt said. "We’ll park him in Hazel’s trailer, for now."

  Whitney sniffed. "Why can’t he stay here?"

  "Because," Blair responded in an overly patient tone. "You're only sixteen years old, and he's a predator. We can’t trust him not to talk you into freeing him as soon as we’re out of here. He's done a good job of manipulating you so far."

  Whitney's face crumpled. "I don't want to stay here on my own. What if the killer returns?"

  "You can sleep on our couch if you like," Blair offered. "Either way, we're moving Logan next door, so you don't have any unsupervised contact with him."

  Matt and Sam hauled a resistant Logan out the door and down the steps. Rob and Blair followed, leaving a forlorn-looking Whitney alone on the couch.

  "Are you coming or what?" Blair asked, peering back over her shoulder.

  Whitney blew her nose. "I need a few minutes."

  "Bring your sleeping bag, and lock the trailer door behind us," Blair cautioned her as she walked away. "We’ll be right next door if you need us."

  Inside Hazel’s trailer, Matt fastened another zip tie around Logan’s ankles, while Sam tied the rope around his waist and secured it to the oven door, leaving him just enough slack to hobble into the bathroom.

  "What do I do if the killer comes back?" Logan yelled after them as they all tripped back out of the trailer. "How am I supposed to defend myself? If I die, it’ll be on your heads."

  "We’ll take our chances," Matt retorted as he locked the door behind them. They convened in a huddle at the bottom of the steps, shivering in the rain.

  "He seems genuinely scared of the killer," Rob said, a concerned expression on his face. "If he isn’t behind Hazel’s disappearance, then we’re putting him in a vulnerable position."

  Matt snorted. "Don’t forget, he’s a good actor. Let him sweat it out for a bit. We’ll figure out something later."

  "Whose rig do we want to tackle next?" Blair questioned, stuffing her hands deep into her pockets to keep warm. "The secrets just keep coming."

  Matt tilted his chin in Sam’s direction. "You’re up."

  Sam gave a non-committal shrug. "Let’s do it. We still need to ride out to the road and assess the climb."

  "What about searching for my brother this morning?" Rob suggested.

  An awkward silence ensued before Matt spoke up. "We can’t risk it in this rain. Not with a chance of another slide. Sorry, man."

  Rob pressed his lips together and gave a tight nod. "Maybe it will ease off in a bit."

  Inside Sam’s trailer, Duke jumped down from the couch and eyed them warily. Rob walked straight over to him and rubbed his neck. "How’s my favorite canine ever?"

  Discreetly keeping her distance from the dog, Blair looked around the interior curiously. It had the air of a well-lived in bachelor pad and smelled a bit like a kennel. Not much care had been taken with the decor, but there was evidence of Sam's passion everywhere—in the maps that plastered the walls, the dog-eared books on climbing, stickers from sponsorship companies on the cabinet doors—not to mention climbing gear stashed in every corner of the room. An empty box of performance energy bars was folded flat by the door next to a bag of garbage.

  "Have at it. We’ll be outside whenever you're done," Sam said, letting the door slam behind him and Duke.

  "It’s pouring out there," Blair called after him, but he didn’t respond. She peered through the window and watched as he pulled out a camping chair from beneath the trailer and slumped down in it under the awning. He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the iron-cast sky and the rain sliding off the awning in sheets. Duke settled down at his feet and rested his head on his paws, seemingly as indifferent to the cold as his master.

  "Where did he go?" Rob asked.

  "He's sitting out there beneath the awning in a camping chair," Blair said. "I’m afraid he’ll freeze to death."

  "He’s used to the outdoors," Rob said. "He’ll be fine."

  "All right, let's get busy," Matt said. "Blair, you concentrate on this main area. I'll take the bedroom, Rob you search the bathroom."

  Blair began working her way through the shelves in the kitchen and then moved on to the cabinets above the couch. By now, she was over her initial awkwardness when it came to rifling through strangers’ possessions. The first few searches had turned up a lot of valuable information about their fellow campers, which more than justified what they were doing as far as she was concerned. As she poked around in Sam’s belongings, her thoughts pivoted back to Harvey, alone and grieving in the RV next door. Could they really barge in there and demand to search it next, under the circumstances? Maybe they should give him some more time.

  She only hoped they were rescued from this wretc
hed campground soon. She dreaded to think what they would do with a decaying body on their hands. Despite her earlier speculation, odds were an autopsy wouldn’t reveal anything untoward in Sandy’s death. It was tragic that she’d died at the campground, but maybe she would have chosen it over dying in a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of machines. After all, she and Harvey had spent a good deal of their lives camping and loved the outdoors. Blair doubted Harvey would continue RVing after this. It was a shame Sandy had contracted cancer while he was still fit and strong—they could have had many more years of traveling around the country together.

  "No shortage of climbing gear in this rig, that's for sure," Matt called from the bedroom. Blair glanced up and saw that he was digging through the storage area beneath the bed.

  "That's not the half of it," Rob said, coming out of the bathroom. "He has more tubs under the trailer too. I’ve seen him rooting around in it, coiling up ropes and stuff."

  "We’ll take a look in the storage compartments afterward," Matt said. "We might need to use some of that gear anyway if we decide to try and climb around the washed-out section of the road."

  Blair flipped through a few dog-eared technical climbing instruction manuals that were stashed on a shelf above the couch. "Crack Climbing: An Engineer’s Approach," she read aloud. "Way too thrilling for my taste."

  Rob shook his head in bewilderment. "Guaranteed way to end up dead. These extreme athletes are nutcases."

  Blair reached up to replace the manuals on the shelf. A folded piece of paper fluttered out of one of them and landed at her feet. She leaned down and picked it up. After straightening it out, she glanced at the headline. Death of elite climber under investigation.

  "What’s that?" Rob asked, gesturing to the paper in her hand.

  "It's a newspaper article." Blair furrowed her brow, studying it. "It must be about Sam's friend, the one who died."

  Matt leaned against the bedroom doorframe. "What does it say?"

  Blair perched on the edge of the couch and began to read aloud.

  "Acclaimed free solo climber, Andy Schipper, fell three-hundred meters to his death Wednesday while attempting to rappel down the side of a popular route known as El Sendero Luminoso in Mexico. Fellow American climber Sam Hunter, who was climbing with him, landed on a ledge and fractured his wrist. Hunter told members of law enforcement and rescuers that something had gone wrong with their ropes. Investigating authorities are calling the accident suspicious and detained Mr. Hunter for questioning after an initial examination indicated that the ropes had allegedly been tampered with."