The Trail Read online

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Let me switch phones, hold on a sec.”

  Adams heard the echo of her retreating footsteps. His mind drifted to his last “girlfriend”, Randi. He’d met her at the steak joint out on route 643. Another waitress. Another hard life. But Randi was a bad woman from the get-go. Took money from his wallet. Borrowed his truck without asking. Reintroduced him to whiskey.

  If Nicole was a delicate flower, Randi had been a bouquet of thorns. Hard and bitter and caustic. Great in bed. Sometimes the meanest ones were. After eight months, Randi had ditched him for a cook at her restaurant, taken his last paycheck, and called him a “fat ass” on her way out the door.

  “Sheriff? You there?”

  “Yeah, Nic, I’m here. How can I help you?”

  “Well, last night, while I was sleeping, I heard a tremendous crash. I ran downstairs and got outside and saw that my mailbox was completely destroyed. There was a green car at the end of the street, driving away.”

  Sheriff Adams sighed. “Did you get the license number?”

  “Not really, sheriff. It was pretty dark.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I was wondering if you could come out and take a look at the mailbox? Maybe there’s tire tracks on the street? Maybe you can figure out who did this?”

  “Sure, Nic, I’ll come by. How’s about…” He opened his scheduling book. Nothing planned except for the investigation of those missing hikers. Nothing pressing. “How’s about in an hour?”

  “That would be great. Thanks, sheriff. See you then.”

  “Yup,” Sheriff Adams said. A mailbox. A fucking mailbox. He had hoped Nicole’s call would be different. He had hoped everything would be different this time. Perhaps he was wrong about Nicole. Perhaps Randi was right, and he really was just a fat-assed loser.

  He reached in the glove compartment of his patrol car, pulled out a flask of whiskey, took a quick snort, and pictured Nicole. She’s out of my league, Adams thought, slamming back more whiskey. What was I thinking?

  He pictured Nicole in front of her house. He’d often driven by it while on patrol, hoping to catch a look at her.

  A mailbox? Adams thought again. A mailbox? He closed his eyes and pictured her house more clearly. Nicole had a mail slot in her front door.

  She doesn’t have a mailbox!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The lake was a bust. Dammit, Jack thought. He hadn’t even gotten to see Susan in a bikini. Sure, he’d seen Kim, but that was no big deal. He’d seen Kim naked before. Kim was hot. No doubt about it. But for some reason she didn’t really turn him on. At least, not the way Susan did.

  Jack was technically “seeing” Kim, although he didn’t quite understand what the term meant to her. As far as he could tell, seeing Kim meant occasional sex, occasional dates, and constant insults. Kim took shots at him all the time, anything from belittling comments about his intelligence, to subtle put downs concerning his parents’ wealth. Kim could be a vindictive little bitch.

  How could he help it if his parents were rich? That they gave him everything he wanted, including the new Land Rover he had driven down from Vermont?

  What does Kim want me to do? Give it back?

  He was sick of making excuses for his parents’ money. He tried to reject what he could, but some of it was just too tempting.

  She sure didn’t complain when my parents covered the bill for an all-inclusive trip to the Bahamas. She’d bitched about the “exploitation” of the local workers by the hotel, but that hadn’t stopped her from ordering a ton of pool side piña coladas.

  In the end, Kim was full of just as much shit as he was. Worse, even, because she didn’t see it.

  “Over here,” Scott said. “This trail goes to the camping spot.”

  Jack didn’t argue. He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue. He’d already stuck his neck out once, and the lake had been a disaster. He’d be quiet for a while. Time to act humble.

  “Okay,” Jack said, conceding the lead to Scott. He smiled, hearing Scott’s wet hiking boots squish with every step.

  “I can’t carry this fucking thing anymore,” Kim said, nodding at her worn blue suitcase. Kim’s foot and calf were wrapped in strips of gauze from Scott’s first-aid kit. Circular bloodstains soaked through the cloth.

  “Alright,” Scott said. “Lemme see that.” He grabbed the suitcase. “What do you have in here?”

  “Nothing,” Kim said. “Clothes and stuff.”

  “I’ll put some of your clothes in my backpack.”

  Scott undid the clasp and started opening the suitcase. Kim pounced on top of it.

  “Keep it shut!”

  “Okay, calm down,” Scott said. “I’m just trying to help you out.”

  “Just keep it shut,” she repeated, regaining her composure. “It’s just that it’s a mess in there and I’d be embarrassed.”

  “I’ll carry it,” Jack said, stepping up from the rear.

  Kim turned around. “Really? Thanks, Jack.” She handed over the suitcase.

  Jack attached the blue suitcase to the backpack he had borrowed from Scott, using a spider web of motley-colored bungee cords he had found at the bottom of his bag. He settled the weight on his shoulders, grunted, and continued down the trail.

  They reached the camping spot about ten minutes later. A little creek snaked through a soft meadow filled with pleasant moss and the rich aroma of wildflowers. A collection of rocks near the creek bordered a neatly rounded fire pit.

  “It’s beautiful,” Susan said, dropping her bag to the ground and rubbing her shoulders. She kissed Scott.

  “What do you think, Scott?” asked Jack. “Do you like this place?”

  “Yeah, Jack. I gotta say. It’s pretty great,” Scott admitted.

  Kim flopped on the ground without looking around.

  “Time for a beer?” Jack asked.

  “Not yet. What do you say the two of us go collect some wood, while the girls unpack.”

  “Okay.”

  They went off in opposite directions in search of fallen wood.

  Jack found a tree that looked slightly charred. At its base, he saw a collection of rocks, meticulously arranged in triangular formations. The fire damage to the tree had caused one big dead limb to hang low and splinter. Jack pulled at the branch until a dull snap broke the silence of the forest. The branch came free. Unprepared, he went sprawling. Brushing dirt and twigs from his shirt, he stood and grabbed the branch.

  He didn’t notice the pentagram carved into the opposite side of the trunk.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When Jack returned with the wood, Kim was sitting on a log next to the dormant fire ring. She’d spent the last hour unpacking and erecting the two tents. Susan had no idea how to pitch a tent, so Kim gave her a hand.

  Susan isn’t too bad, Kim thought, as she stared at the black ash and broken glass that layered the fire pit. She’s stuck up, but just a little bit. Kim understood why Susan had stopped talking to her on the ride up. It had been about the “Intercourse” comment. Kim thought it was nice that Susan would take such a stand. Would defend her man. Jack would never do that for Kim. Hell, Jack was so self-consumed and dim that he hadn’t even noticed her flirting with Scott.

  Susan opened up as Kim helped her with Scott’s tent. Scott’s tent—what a joke! It was less of a tent and more of a yuppie cabin, with “fall colors,” brand new stakes, and an absurd second room that extended beyond the perimeter of the structure.

  “What’s this room all about?” Kim asked.

  “I don’t know,” Susan said.

  “Ha—it’s like a foyer, or something. Does Scott’s tent have a foyer?”

  “Well, I guess it does,” said Susan with a little smile. “Scott said it was the best tent on the market. Something about the skylight.”

  “Skylight?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s this thing right here.” Susan pulled at a zipper on the roof. A nylon flap peeled back reve
aling a mesh aperture.

  “Voilà! Skylight!”

  Kim laughed. “You’re right! Skylight.”

  They joked more about the tent, about Scott, about camping. Kim got the impression that Susan wasn’t quite happy with her relationship with Scott. It was in the way Susan averted her eyes when Kim asked her about their relationship—especially questions about the future of their relationship.

  When Scott returned, Susan suggested that the two of them go for a walk.

  “But then Kim would be alone,” Scott protested, smiling at Kim.

  “That’s okay, Scott, thanks. I can handle myself in the woods. I’m a big girl.”

  Scott nodded and the two departed. Kim sat by the fire ring and wondered about their walk.

  Kim was glad when Jack came through the woods with his arms full of branches. She hated being alone in the woods, but more important, she was horny. The throbbing in her foot had subsided, but a second throbbing continued. Sure, her leg still hurt, and sure, Jack was dumb, but she was determined to have fun on this trip.

  “Jack, look. I pitched our tent,” Kim said, smiling.

  “Great. Thanks. Where are Scott and Susan?”

  “They took a walk. It’s just the two of us.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup, and I’m bored, Jack. Do you want the grand tour?”

  Jack laughed. “I’d love a tour.”

  Kim took Jack’s hand and led him into the tent. She laid down on the sleeping bag and rolled over to look up at him. Jack removed his shirt. Kim kicked her hiking boots off, favoring her right foot, and started to work her tight jeans down her hips. Jack hooked his index fingers into the sides of her black panties and started pulling them slowly, very slowly, down over her long legs. Kim arched her back and lifted her hips. Jack ran his hands up and down her inner thighs and lightly brushed her trim, black pubic hair with his fingertips. Stopping, he leaned back and wriggled out of his jeans and boxer shorts. Kim could see that he was ready.

  Jack entered her slowly. Kim ground her body against Jack’s, pulling him closer, closer. She felt the hot, pulsating quiver building in her womb and expanding out to her thighs, feet, belly, and breasts. Jack found a rhythm, and they both moved in the moment. Jack delayed his thrusts to heighten the anticipation, and then drove furiously to overwhelm Kim. She shrieked and felt a release throughout her entire body. Her legs stiffened, her teeth clenched, and her arms extended outwards, pushing against the walls of the tent.

  Through the nylon, her right hand felt a face.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Ummf,” Sheriff Adams muttered.

  Nicole smiled to herself. The sight of the sheriff attempting to gracefully exit his patrol car was way too much. Adams pulled his sluggish girth up by a hand strap above the window, but his grip slipped, and he floundered backwards into the driver’s seat.

  Nicole leaned against the door frame of her house with a cup of tea in her hand.

  “Hey Nic,” huffed Adams. His cheeks flared red.

  Pregnant, thought Nicole. It’s like Sheriff Adams is pregnant. That big belly full of beer and diner specials. Nicole remembered being pregnant. The back pain. The sciatic nerve, the docs called it. The nausea. The agony when Leo was born.

  Just the name Leo made her heart grow sad.

  “What’s this about a busted up mailbox?”

  “Well, sheriff. First of all, would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure,” Adams said. He followed her through the living room and into the kitchen. As Nicole turned to face him, she noticed his quick examination of the room and couldn’t help glancing around herself. Antique teacups and woven Pennsylvania Dutch tapestries. Everything in the room shouted old maid.

  Before Sheriff Adams arrived, Nicole had debated what to do with the photographs of John. Both the individual ones, and the family pictures with Leo. If she removed all the photos of John, she’d come across as heartless and uncaring. But if she didn’t remove any pictures, her house would resemble a shrine to her dead husband— clearly a woman not ready to move on. Nicole packed away half the pictures, because she was ready to move on.

  At least, she thought she was.

  “Thanks, Nic,” Adams said. His giant palm dwarfed the coffee mug. “Place looks nice.”

  “Thanks, sheriff. It’s sometimes hard to keep it up all by myself.”

  “Barry. Call me Barry, not sheriff.”

  “Okay, Barry. Thanks.”

  “I’ll bet it’s hard,” Adams said, glancing around the kitchen. “Why don’t you get a smaller place, move closer to the city?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a hundred times,” Nicole said with a sigh. “Especially when something breaks. Or when I have to mow the lawn.”

  “Oh,” said Adams, with a tone that neither sympathized nor suggested that she should change the subject. “Living out here in the country can be hard. Yard work. Firewood. Vandals. Busted mailboxes.”

  Nicole looked up. Again, she could not read his face. Is he toying with me? she thought. Didn’t he see the mail slot in the door? He has to know by now that isn’t why I called him.

  “About that mailbox,” Adams said.

  “I lied,” Nicole said flatly.

  “A lie?” He seemed more amused than anything else. “Why would you lie about mailbox vandalism? Lying to an officer of the law, no less?” He smiled and rubbed his stomach.

  “I wanted you to come over.”

  “Why? To help with your yard work?”

  “No,” Nicole said. “To get to know you.”

  “What do you want to know?” Adams asked, smiling.

  “Well, I wanted—”

  Then Nicole looked up and saw a reflection in the glass that shouldn’t have been there. She screamed and collapsed to the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  This is it, Susan thought. I’m going to talk to Scott about having a baby. I’m going to do it.

  They were walking along a gradually winding, pine-needled path. Shafts of light dissected the trail. She’d envisioned this walk many times, rehearsed what she’d say in the mirror, and even planned what she’d wear for the occasion: dark jeans with a light pink sweater.

  “You don’t like Kim,” Scott said abruptly.

  “What?” She stopped and turned to look at Scott. It took her a minute to process the statement. “Why do you say that?”

  “Trust me, I know when you don’t like someone.”

  “Maybe I don’t like her because she was flirting with my husband.”

  “Flirting?” Scott laughed. “She wasn’t flirting, she was joking.”

  “She was flirting, Scott, and you know it. Don’t play stupid.”

  Scott could play stupid, too. Susan remembered in college when her roommate suggested a threesome, and Scott couldn’t wait to hop in bed. Although when Susan said no, Scott pretended to be grateful, acting very innocent and naïve. Scott was a dog. For the most part Susan trusted him, but she had a hard time trusting anyone fully, after what happened to Grandmom Nancy. Susan thought about the time in college when she hooked up with Jack. I guess we both have our secrets.

  The trail sloped into a grassy clearing. Crickets buzzed in the underbrush. A hawk circled slowly overhead, performing effortless figure eights in the sky. A cool breeze rustled the leaves as Susan clutched her arms around her sweater. How did Kim jump in that lake, Susan wondered. It must have been freezing. In a way, Susan admired Kim for being everything she was not: spontaneous, daring, and yeah, maybe even a little slutty. Susan smiled to herself.

  “I like Kim, Scott. She seems nice. I just don’t like when she flirts with you.”

  But Scott kept moving up the trail, ignoring her. He stopped in front of a charred tree and called over his shoulder, “Look at this. Someone set this tree on fire.”

  They both studied the blackened trunk, the gnarled branches. Susan smelled burnt wood.

  “This just burned recen
tly,” Scott said. “Within the past couple hours. Who would burn a tree?”

  “Maybe it was lightning?”

  “Yeah,” Scott said, unsatisfied. “I doubt it. What were you saying earlier?”

  “I said that Kim was okay, but listen—Scott. I don’t want to talk about Kim anymore.”