The Trail Read online

  Adams is different, she thought. She hoped. Nicole sensed something deeper in his soul. Something a little sad and lost.

  She wasn’t quite sure why she had called him, or what she was going to say when he called back. She just knew that she was lonely, and that he liked her. Lonely. That was an understatement. After her husband passed away, she’d been more than just lonely.

  Passed away. She never said the word “suicide”. Wouldn’t even think about it. She told herself her husband had died of natural causes. Or of something like cancer. Something commonplace and understandable.

  Life had been so awful after John’s death. Having to explain to people what happened. Having to say the word. She knew people whispered behind her back in the supermarket, “Her husband killed himself.” They smiled to her face, but behind closed doors they wanted to know why. Why did he do it? Does his wife know?

  Nicole didn’t know. Or told herself she didn’t. The truth was just too hard. John had acted normal in the weeks leading up to his death. Sure, he’d always been a little moody, prone to bouts of depression, but nothing that would indicate he was capable of killing himself.

  They had gone through the whole therapy thing. They had been making real progress. John seemed happier. Lighter. They were arriving at something. An event. An event in John’s past that caused him pain. A childhood trauma.

  The shotgun blast scattered all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle they’d worked so hard putting together. He left only one piece of the puzzle behind. She’d never tell the ladies at the supermarket. She would keep quiet and clean up the mess by herself.

  Well, not literally clean up the mess. That was Sheriff Adams’ job. She remembered the sheriff’s white face that night, as he emerged from the bedroom, the candles still flickering behind the door.

  Adams isn’t a cold, jaded cop, empty of emotions after years on the force, she thought. He’s still capable of feeling.

  Nicole walked into the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove for tea. She flipped on the TV to drive out the silence of the house and watched an old movie without really seeing it. Lonely wasn’t the only thing she’d felt. Scared was another word. She’d never lived alone before. Ever. She didn’t like it at all. Every creak in the floorboards made her jump. Every knock on the door caused her heart to thump. Sometimes she would mention to door-to-door solicitors that her husband was asleep in the bedroom. A silly lie, and she’d feel ridiculous if it was ever exposed. After all, Crenson was a small town. People talked. But the lie gave her comfort.

  Nicole had heard people say that small towns were safer than big cities. Based on the out-of-town paper, that was probably right. Just the same, there was a scary part to small towns, too. The wide-open spaces. The complete darkness. The creepy mechanic who worked across from the diner and smiled at her oddly each night when she got off her shift.

  Nicole shuddered, remembering something that had happened to her the previous week. She had stopped off at the cemetery to put some fresh flowers on John’s grave, a ritual she performed twice a week. After she placed the bouquet on the ground and turned around, there was a man standing not twenty feet away, staring at her. He imitated her movements. He wore a dirty red shirt, and had strange, lifeless eyes, as though his mind was damaged.

  She backed away. He didn’t follow her. She left the cemetery and hurried off to work. She’d never been so glad to see a group of cops in her life as when the four members of the Crenson force came into the diner for a late lunch. Officer Bryson, Sheriff Adams, and two others she didn’t know by name.

  She could have just said something about the strange man in the red shirt that day, at the diner, but she realized that she didn’t want to just turn in a report. She wanted to get to know Adams better. Any casual conversation ran the risk of one of her regular customers overhearing, and the rumors would have started. Another joy of living in a small town, Nicole thought. First they had secretly suspected her of causing her husband’s suicide, and next they would say she was dating too soon after his death. She couldn’t win in this town.

  Nicole took a sip of her tea and wondered if he’d call. Sure, he’ll call, Nicole assured herself. He likes you, honey. You can make him blush, remember? She also knew that he liked the black pants she had worn today. She had watched him look at her through the mirror behind the diner’s counter. She smiled, remembering. She still had “it”. Or some of it, she thought. She only hoped it still worked.

  The phone rang.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jack was starting to worry.

  “Five minutes, huh, Jack?” Scott mocked. They had hiked for over twenty minutes and the lake was nowhere in sight. With each blind turn, the trail led to more forest, more relentless trees. Jack scratched his head, glanced around, and continued trudging down the path.

  “Let’s just turn around, Jack,” Kim pleaded. The Amish bonnet she had purchased at the gift store was now wrapped around her forehead like a bandana. Sweat outlined the curves of her body. “Come on, Jack. You don’t know where you’re going.”

  “Look,” Jack blurted, spinning around. “I know where we are! I know where we’re going! And I know where the lake is! It’s just that this path is a little overgrown and it’s taking a little more time than I thought. Okay?”

  Shit, Jack thought. I don’t know where I’m going.

  They pushed on silently.

  After a time, they came to a small, swiftly moving creek.

  “See, we’re getting near the lake,” Jack said.

  “I’ll believe it when I’m swimming,” Scott said.

  Susan was the only one who hadn’t complained. She’d left Scott standing in the middle of the trail, choosing to follow Jack instead. That felt good.

  We still have something, Jack thought. That kiss in college wasn’t a fluke. We still have a connection. A bond between us that Scott can’t penetrate. He’s too self-absorbed to even notice it.

  Jack wondered if Scott and Susan were happy together. Certainly they were doing well financially. They had a nice house and some fancy gadgets, but Jack wondered how much of that stuff Scott really owned. Jack knew Scott was vain. Vain and insecure. A bad combination.

  In college, Scott had plunged into credit card debt buying high-end stereo equipment and the latest technological gizmo. Jack suspected Scott had bought these things as status symbols. An outward sign to flash his false wealth. But Jack knew the real deal. Jack had answered lots of calls from credit card collectors looking for Scott.

  Vain and insecure.

  He noticed the trees in the distance came to a huge clearing. It could only mean one thing: a lake.

  “Just over this hill!” Jack shouted in triumph.

  “You’d better be right, Jack,” Kim threatened. Jack ignored her. He quickened his pace. Despite his excitement, Jack’s thoughts drifted back to Scott and Susan. He wondered why they didn’t have a kid yet. All of Jack’s other married friends were having children. He knew Susan wanted kids. She had mentioned it a number of times in college. Maybe Scott couldn’t give her children.

  Jack smiled a secret, superior smile and thought, What else isn’t he giving her?

  The path grew more distinct. Jack could feel a cool breeze.

  “I think Jack’s right,” Kim said. “I think that is the lake.” They started hiking faster. The four of them broke into the clearing and gazed at the shimmering body of water. The lake stretched roughly a quarter mile in all directions, forming a near perfect circle. Trees surrounded the perimeter.

  Jack, Scott, and Susan put down their gear and scrambled down the trail toward the water. Tiny waves lapped up against jagged rocks and broken tree limbs.

  Kim stayed behind. She sat on the trail, opened her bag, and pulled out a black and red bikini she’d borrowed from Susan. She stood behind a tree and got changed, barely attempting to conceal herself. Jack glanced back and caught a flash of her naked ass.

  She walked down the trail towards the lake. The three of th
em looked at her. Kim’s body was beautiful.

  Jack turned back to the lake and said, “Something is wrong with the water.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Martin stood on the other side of the lake, watching and masturbating. He liked the girl in the bikini. Liked her legs. Her skin. He studied the muscle structure, how each part slipped gracefully into the next. The human body, so fascinating.

  He ejaculated with a grunt and continued watching. The one in the bikini did not enter the water. None of them did. The group stood by the bank discussing or debating something. They looked confused. This made Martin happy. Giddy, even. He started groping himself again.

  He thought of the couple he had hung from the tree. She was nice and clean. He wondered if the girl in the bikini was clean. Or just another sinner.

  He killed in cycles. In seasons. Sometimes he would let hikers go unmolested. Other times, like now, the urge to stab overtook him. For Martin, this was the season of the dead.

  He took a silent pull from his canteen, which was filled with dirty pond water. He wiped his mouth with his filthy sleeve. Leaves and twigs clung to his thick, black hair.

  She’s a sinner, Martin thought, staring at the woman in the bikini. She shouldn’t dress like that.

  His mind drifted. He thought of his friend. The one friend he ever had. Then he thought about the hiker again. Did he escape? Did he get away? He had chased the hiker into the church. He had cut the hiker’s head off. Or did I imagine that? Did it really happen?

  Martin grew angry at his inability to distinguish dreams from reality. He smashed his dirt-caked fists into the trunk of the closest tree. The group across the lake looked over, but Martin remained perfectly still, and soon they returned to examining the water. All but the one in the bikini. She continued to look in his direction.

  Martin studied his knuckles. Blood. A mixture of new blood and dried blood. Old blood, he thought happily. The hiker’s blood. I did kill him.

  Finally, the girl in the bikini lost interest and turned back to her friends. Martin started to move closer. He clutched his favorite knife in his right hand, a long hunting blade with a dull green handle. It was the same knife he had used to kill the couple on the trail yesterday. Or was it last week?

  Martin smacked his head violently with his free hand and continued walking towards the water.

  He could see details now. Two men. Both of average size. The one had beer poking out of his backpack. Sinner. A blonde girl. Possibly clean. Possibly clean! He rubbed himself again.

  The sun stood at its highest point in the sky. Sparrows swooped down and skittered off the lake, sending tiny ripples in all directions. Near the bank where the group stood, the water in the lake appeared discolored, a brownish, stagnant muck, with foam outlining the perimeter.

  Martin smiled. He knew what caused the rancid ooze.

  He raised his binoculars and studied their camping equipment from his position on the opposite shore. A bundle of nylon tents, fashionable gear. Excess and gluttony. Sinners. Sinners.

  He slipped through the woods quietly. He had lived in these woods for years. He knew how to navigate them. He could recognize branches that would snap noisily, and saw soft paths that enveloped the sounds of his footfalls. He traveled just as efficiently during the night as he did under the blazing sun.

  He preferred the concealment night provided. He liked walking right up to tents on moonless nights and listening to the steady, rhythmic sleep patterns of its inhabitants. Sometimes he listened for hours.

  Martin edged around the lake, studying the group—then froze. He could not believe what he saw.

  The woman in the bikini was entering the water.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kim sank slowly, tepidly into the water. The foam muck parted as she entered. The water swallowed her long legs, and the chilly temperature prickled her skin.

  Who cares about the water, she thought. Everyone is so afraid. She was tired of the fear, the bickering. She didn’t like how Jack had wised-off to the cop, but she wasn’t completely satisfied with Scott’s performance either. Yes, sir. Sure, sir.

  She preferred men with a little edge. A little backbone. She wasn’t sure if Scott had one. She’d noticed how he stole a secret glance at Susan after Jack suggested a new camping spot. How he sought her approval. Kim didn’t like it. Kim made it a point to never seek anyone’s approval.

  “How’s the water?” Scott asked, studying the lake while shielding his eyes from the sun.

  “It’s warm,” Kim lied. “You should come in.”

  “I should,” said Scott, but he didn’t move.

  Kim stretched, watching the men’s eyes follow the curves of her body, and grinned at Susan’s stodgy, disapproving expression. This is better than the beach, she thought. No competition. Sure, Susan was pretty. But would she even disrobe? Susan seemed like such a killjoy. Although she did give Scott that blow job on the ride up, Kim recalled with a smile. She’d let them think that she was asleep. She hadn’t needed to see it to know what was going on. Hearing the act was enough. Gradual increased breathing, a silent second or two, followed by a deflating rush of air.

  All guys are the same, Kim thought. She had found it arousing that Scott watched her in the rear view mirror from the front seat during the deed. Scott had been imagining her, instead of his wife.

  We’ll see how this weekend goes, Kim thought. Perhaps Scott won’t have to imagine anymore.

  “Owww!” Kim screamed. Something jabbed into her foot. Jerking back, she lost her balance and fell into the water with a shriek.

  “What?” Jack yelled. “What happened?”

  Kim got her feet under her and floundered about in the water, half hopping, half swimming, grabbing at her right foot.

  “I stepped on something. I think it cut me.”

  “Lift your foot up, let me see,” Scott said. Kim drew her right foot out of the water. Blood poured from her sole, ran off her heel, and emptied into the water.

  “Oh, my God!” Kim said. “It really hurts. Oh, my God!”

  “Just stay calm,” Scott directed. “Try to walk back to the bank.”

  She took a step. Something stabbed her calf.

  “Fuck!” Kim shouted. “Something cut me again! Oh, my God!”

  Scott ran for the water, crashed into the lake, and trudged out to Kim. He scooped her up and carried her back to the shore. A second puncture wound on her calf dripped blood onto the rocks. Scott placed Kim safely on the shore, and then stared back at the lake.

  “What was that?” Susan asked.

  Scott waded back out into the lake, probing the bottom carefully with a long stick.

  At the spot where Kim had been standing, he paused and poked around for a few moments, squinting. He saw something white at the bottom of the lake. Scott thrust an arm into the water and brought up a dripping mass of sharp white sticks.

  “What the hell!” Jack said.

  Kim leaned forward, watching Scott from the bank.

  “Bones,” said Scott. “Some sort of animal bones.”

  Sharp rib bones from a large animal glistened in the sun. Some hunks of flesh, gnarled and rotten, clung to the structure. Scott reached down again and pulled up the unmistakable remains of a cow skull.

  “Dude, is that a cow skull?” Jack asked. “Who the fuck would dump a cow’s body into the lake?”

  * * * *

  Scott probed the lake again, but just missed pulling up a human skull.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Hello.”

  “Nicole? Sheriff Adams here, returning your call.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. The sheriff had considered using various opening phrases, but eventually decided to go with simple and business-like. If Nicole wanted to take the conversation in a different direction, he’d be more than happy to go there.

  Truthfully, he had no idea why she called. Did Nicole want him for some bullshit police work, like finding a lost dog
, or investigating her missing patio furniture? Or did she want to get to know him better? Difficult to say. She laughed at his jokes at the diner, but in a flash she could turn cold and distant. Yeah, a neutral tone is best—no need to get excited if it turns out she’s calling because someone just egged her house.

  “Hi, sheriff,” Nicole said quietly. “Thanks for calling me back.”

  “You’re welcome. No problem. How can I help?”

  Static snarled. Nicole’s voice grew muffled. “Sheriff? Hello? Sheriff?”