Turning off his flashlight, Matt quietly depressed the handle and pushed open the door. He slipped inside, motioning to Blair and Sam to follow. Single file, they padded silently to the back of the trailer where a figure lay sprawled in the shadows. Without a moment’s hesitation, Matt and Sam easily overpowered the sleeping Logan. In a flurry of limbs, they made swift work of zip tying his wrists and ankles—his enraged screams piercing the air when he came to and realized this wasn’t a dream.
After a cursory search, Matt retrieved Logan’s truck keys from the bedside cabinet and pocketed them.
With Sam’s help, he hoisted Logan to his feet and dragged him down the steps of the trailer, and out into the rain. Whitney’s wails reached their ears from the road below where she was wrestling with Harvey who was keeping a firm grip on her arms. No doubt, she was afraid of Logan’s reaction once he found out that she’d left the door unlocked. Blair felt a pang of remorse at the obvious distress in the girl’s voice. Her initial judgment of Whitney’s immaturity had been based on the assumption that she was a young woman in her mid-twenties. She jogged down to the road and put an arm around the girl’s shaking shoulders. "It’s all right. Everything’s going to be okay."
"You can’t do this," Whitney blubbered. "You can't just trespass in people’s trailers whenever you feel like it."
"It's for your own safety," Blair soothed. "Logan hurt you once. He could do it again, and with more serious consequences next time. You can stay with us tonight. We’ll wait here for you while you grab your things from your trailer."
"Don’t listen to them, Whit!" Logan yelled. "They’re trying to tear us apart."
Whitney sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She cast a wary look in Logan’s direction before trudging back up to the campsite and into her trailer.
A few minutes later, she reappeared with a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
All the way to the camper van, Logan carried on, yelling at Whitney to do something. But to her credit, she kept her eyes forward and refrained from answering him. While Matt and Sam escorted him inside the camper van, Blair took Whitney by the elbow and gently guided her across the road to their trailer.
"You must be exhausted," Blair said, pulling out the sofa bed. She grabbed a pillow and blankets from the closet and proceeded to make up the bed. Whitney flashed her a wan smile of thanks as she crawled in, promptly falling asleep.
Blair opened the refrigerator and lifted out a bottle of water before sitting down at the table to wait for Matt.
It was a good half hour later before she heard the sound of his key in the lock. "I was beginning to get worried. What kept you?"
"We were transferring Sandy’s body to Logan’s truck. We’ll need ours to drive out to the road tomorrow." He gestured to the couch and whispered, "How’s Whitney holding up?”
"She’s shattered—poor thing." After a beat of silence, Blair let out a soft sigh. "I bet she regrets lying to her parents now."
"I’m not so sure she regrets anything," Matt replied. "She’s pretty devious if you ask me. But she won't be able to free Logan a second time. I’m keeping the camper van key on me."
Blair woke shortly before five a.m. with a full bladder. She squirmed uncomfortably in her sleeping bag. For once, Matt was sleeping soundly and she was reluctant to disturb him, or Whitney either, for that matter. But she wasn't going to last for much longer. At 5:35 she unzipped her bag and tiptoed to the trailer door. She reached for Matt’s oversized jacket and pulled it on. He would have a fit if he knew she was heading out to the outhouse alone, but it would be light out soon—not the preferred hunting hour for predators. Still, she grabbed a kitchen knife and stashed it inside the jacket just in case.
After locking the trailer door behind her, she switched on her flashlight and made a beeline for the outhouse, shivering in the chilly morning air but thankful for a break in the rain, however brief. Safely inside, she slid the bolt across and breathed a little easier. A new day had dawned. Today was the beginning of the end. Sam would climb out of here in a few short hours and hike down to the highway. Then it was only a matter of flagging down a car. Once they had a signal, they would notify the authorities. Search and rescue would helicopter them out of here—possibly as early as this afternoon. As for her father-in-law's trailer, it would be stuck here until the road was repaired, which could be months down the line. But it was less of a concern than getting out of here alive.
Buoyed with renewed hope, she exited the outhouse, and stopped dead in her tracks. Sucking in a hard breath, she watched in horror as a shadowy figure skulked away from the dumpster and into the trees.
21
Blair remained frozen in place, her eyes twitching from left to right, searching the shadowy shapes of the trees for any sign of a figure lurking among them. She hadn’t imagined it, had she? No! Someone had slunk away from the dumpster when she’d exited the outhouse. Was it the killer? It couldn’t have been Hazel—the figure was too tall and broad. Definitely a man. Perhaps Rob had returned.
She swallowed hard, remembering Matt’s warning not to take anything at face value. Maybe Rob and his brother were both here, closing in on the campground. Fear ricocheted through her. Had they spotted her? She was beginning to understand why Matt had returned from war so paranoid about everything and everyone. This kind of situation messed with your mind until you couldn’t tell if you were upside down or right side up.
Instinctively, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife inside her husband’s oversized jacket. Matt had shared some self-defense tips with her over the years, but she’d never actually used any of them. She wasn’t sure she remembered anything he’d painstakingly drilled into her head. It was all a blur in her confused mind.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, she took a couple of tentative steps away from the outhouse in the direction of her trailer. She didn't dare turn on her flashlight in case she alerted anyone watching from behind the cover of the trees that surrounded the campsites. Gingerly, she made her way back down the dirt road casting furtive glances over her shoulder every so often. All of a sudden, she felt the cold steel of a barrel pressed to the side of her head. Her eyes bulged, every nerve ending tingling with instant fear. She hadn't heard her attacker approach, not even the slightest crunch of a footstep, not the smallest hint of his breath on the back of her neck. She began to shake. "Please—"
"Blair?" Matt’s urgent whisper sounded equal parts relieved and shocked. A beam of yellow light appeared as a flashlight clicked on.
Blair exhaled slowly as the cold circle of steel abruptly withdrew from her skull. Her mind whirled with unanswered questions. What was Matt up to out here? Was that really a gun he’d pressed to her head? He must have managed to open the safe in the camper van. But why hadn’t he told her?
"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Matt’s tone was clipped but it didn’t hide the tremor that ran through it. Before Blair could answer a word, he crushed her to his chest, resting his chin on top of her head. "I was scared sick. I woke up and you were gone."
"I needed the outhouse," she said sheepishly. "I didn't want to wake you. That’s the only time you’ve slept properly in the past three nights."
"What were you thinking?" Matt groaned. "You know better than to come out here alone. You can’t trust anyone. We've been over this enough times already."
"I know, it was stupid. I didn’t think it would be quite so dark out." She sucked in a hard breath. "Matt, was that a gun you were holding to my head?"
He grabbed her by the hand. "Come on, let’s get back to the trailer. We’ll talk there. It’s not safe out here."
"I saw someone darting away from the dumpster when I exited the outhouse. I couldn't see who it was, but it was obvious they were trying to make sure no one saw them."
"What?" Matt threw her a look of alarm and then panned the flashlight around them. "Man or woman?"
"A man—I think. He was tall."
When they opened the trailer door, Whitney stirred on the sleeper sofa and propped herself up on one elbow. A look of confusion crossed her face before she remembered where she was.
"Go back to sleep," Blair said. "I was just using the outhouse."
Whitney yawned, eyelids drooping, and obediently laid back down without a word.
Matt and Blair made their way to the bedroom and closed the door behind them. They sank down on their bed and stared across at one another.
"Matt," Blair began.
He held up a hand to silence her and then reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun from his concealed carry holster. "Is this what you want to ask me about?"
Blair stared at it for a brief moment and then met Matt’s gaze. "It's yours, isn't it? You lied to me. You brought it after all."
Matt rubbed a hand across his jaw. "You gave me no choice. You were so insistent. You wouldn’t budge. But you were wrong about this. It wasn’t safe to head out on this trip without a gun."
Blair took a couple of shallow breaths. She felt as if she was hyperventilating. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, slap Matt or hug him. She was equal parts incensed that he’d deceived her, but relieved at the same time to know that they had a gun at their disposal now. "You lied to the others too," she said. "You told them we didn’t have a gun when they asked if anyone had a weapon."
A nerve twitched in Matt’s neck. "We can’t trust them, Blair. I’m not going to admit to a bunch of strangers that I have a gun—especially not when one of them might be the killer."
"But they’re not! Someone’s stalking the campground—we know that now. It’s more important than ever that we trust one another and work together to get through this." Blair shook her head despairingly. "What if someone finds out about the gun? They're going to think you're the killer."
Matt’s lips flattened into a determined line. "No one can find out. This has to be our secret. It’s our only chance of maintaining the upper hand if the killer strikes again."
Blair dropped her head into her hands. "I just want to go home. This whole ordeal is terrifying. Everyone’s hiding secrets and we’re all lying to each other."
Matt frowned. "What are you lying about?"
Blair threw him a reproving look. "I’m covering for you, aren’t I? I'm part of your lies now. And it doesn't feel right. We’re breaking their trust."
"I wanted to trust them, Blair. But I can't. None of them are who they said they were."
Blair bit her lip. "Neither are we for that matter. We lied to them too. They all think we're traveling for fun for a few months before we set up our landscape design business. They don't know this is make or break for us. That you walk around like a zombie some nights because you can’t sleep. That you struggle with PTSD and anger management. That you’re not supposed to be around weapons—for your own safety, and the safety of others, including our future family." She shook her head. "How can I trust you now?"
Matt hissed out an exasperated breath and got to his feet. "What’s your gut telling you?" He replaced the gun in his holster and pulled his hoodie down over it. "I'm going to make some coffee." Without another word, he exited the bedroom and began opening and slamming cabinet doors. Moments later, Blair heard the sound of Whitney folding up the sleeper sofa. No surprise there. She couldn’t possibly sleep through the racket Matt was making. Blair smoothed a shaking hand over her hair. She’d touched a nerve by steering the conversation back to the ultimatum she’d given him in therapy. She wasn't prepared to have children with a man who could lash out in anger in a split second. But perhaps it wasn't fair of her to bring that up now. These were extraordinary circumstances they found themselves in. The kind of circumstances akin to war—when you had to rely on your instincts, trust your gut, and draw on your training to survive. Matt was doing what he knew best. And right now they needed his skills.
With a resolute sigh, she tidied up the bed and made her way out to the living area. Whitney was seated at the dining table, resting her chin in her hands. She blinked tentatively at Blair, her eyes still somewhat swollen from all the tears she’d shed the previous day.
"How did you sleep?" Blair asked, joining her.
"Okay, I guess."
"Would you like some coffee?" Matt asked her.
Whitney nodded. "Yes, please."
Matt carried three mugs over to the table and slid in next to Blair. He took a swig of his coffee and looked pointedly at Whitney. "Does anyone else know about your relationship with Logan?"
Whitney flushed and shook her head. "My parents are going to kill me when they find out."
Matt grunted. "They're more likely to want to kill Logan. I'm sure they're worried sick about you."
Whitney frowned. "Do you really think the police are searching for me?"
Blair sipped her coffee and nodded. "Without a doubt. You’re a minor. They might even know the general area you're in if they’ve tracked down the CCTV footage of the last gas station you visited."
Matt drained his mug and took it over to the sink where he washed it out and stacked it upside down on the dish rack. "I'm going to take the trash over to the dumpster now that it’s light out." He directed a meaningful look at Blair.
She got to her feet and dumped the contents of her mug down the sink. "I'll come with you. I could use some fresh air." She turned to Whitney. "Will you be all right here by yourself for a few minutes?"
Whitney peered over her mug at her. "Can I … talk to Logan?"
"I’ll take you over there later. For now, you either need to stay here or come with us."
"I’ll wait here," Whitney said. "I need to wash up and clean my teeth."
"Lock the door behind us," Blair warned. "And don’t open it for anyone, do you understand me? Not even Sam or Harvey."
Whitney gave a glum nod. "Okay."
Blair and Matt made their way from their campsite down to the road just as Sam and Duke were walking by.
"You two are up early." Sam jerked his chin in the direction of the trailer. "Is Whitney doing all right?"
Blair shrugged. "As well as can be expected. She’s traumatized and upset."
Matt cast a furtive glance up and down the road to make sure no one was coming. "You didn't see anyone snooping around the campground earlier this morning, did you?"
Sam frowned. "No, why? Did you hear something?"
"I spotted someone skulking away from the dumpster when I was at the outhouse," Blair said. "Around six or so. I’m pretty sure it was a man."
Sam’s expression hardened. "Do you think it was Rob?"
"I don’t know. But Matt and I are going to take a quick look around the dumpster. See if we can find any clues—footprints or whatever."
"I'll come with you," Sam said, falling into step with them. "If the killer’s stalking the campground, it makes me nervous about leaving the others here while we attempt the climb this morning."
Matt nodded thoughtfully. "I was thinking the same thing. Which is why I want to do a little investigating now before we head out."
They made their way past the outhouse to the dumpster and examined the soft ground around it for footprints.
"It's impossible to make out anything distinct," Sam said. "Everyone's been here at one point or another."
Matt turned to Blair. "Did you see which direction the figure came from?"
She frowned in concentration. "No, they were darting away from the dumpster into the trees when I spotted them."
"I wonder why. Maybe they threw something in." Sam walked over to the dumpster and raised the lid. "Stinks in here. But we could check the bags on top at least."
Blair made a face. "Have at it. I don't want to touch anyone else’s trash."
Sam pulled out a couple of bags and tossed one to Matt.
Blair watched from a res
pectable distance as Matt untied the bag and gingerly fished around inside it. "Cookie containers and soda cans for the most part. This looks like Whitney's and Logan's trash."
"Well we know for sure that neither of them were out and about in the early hours," Blair said. "What’s in the other bag, Sam?"
"General kitchen trash," he replied. "Wait a minute! That’s odd." He dug around in the bag and held up a pair of black tennis shoes. "These appear to be in good condition."
Blair walked over to him and turned the shoes over to inspect them. "No holes in the soles either. Whose trash is this?"
Sam rifled around some more in the plastic bag and pulled out a pill bottle. "Vicodin. That’s what Sandy was taking, wasn’t it? I’m guessing this is Harvey's trash."
Blair flipped over the tongue of one of the tennis shoes. "Size nine." She frowned, her gaze flitting from Matt to Sam. "Don’t you think it’s kind of strange that Harvey's throwing away Sandy's stuff already?"
22
Matt reached for the tennis shoes and examined them more closely. "Are you sure these are Sandy’s?"
Blair arched a brow. "Who else could they belong to? Harvey's a big guy—he’s got to be at least a size twelve or thirteen."
"They look kind of manly to me," Matt said dubiously.
Sam shrugged. "I’d call them practical."
Blair frowned as something struck her. "Remember that note we found in Hazel's trailer?"
Matt stared at her blankly.
"The one she was doodling on," Blair added impatiently. "The one I found stuffed between the mattress and the bedside cabinet."
"Yeah, what about it?"
"She wrote the number nine followed by a question mark." Blair looked expectantly from Matt to Sam. "Maybe she noticed the shoes when she was snooping around in Harvey’s RV and wondered about them too."
You Will Never Leave: A psychological suspense thriller Page 15