Keith, on top of everything else we’d encountered that year, couldn’t cope with the idea of fatherhood or the demands he supposed it would require. Those demands were not unrealistic. What he didn’t factor in was the love he’d feel for that baby and the sacrifices he’d willingly make to care for him and provide for him, including doing his own emotional work.
“There are some new developments. They’re complicated, and…” My voice catches. Not since my conversation with Jay have I let my emotions come through, unless it was the anger I initially felt with Mick. “Sorry. If you’re not sitting down, you may want to…”
I go on to tell Keith what I’ve learned and what I suspect. I pour out the part of the story I know, and what I think I know. When I hear Nicky’s voice in the background, “Dad…,” my heart clenches.
“Hey, hold on a minute, Deni.”
I hear the murmur of their voices and then the joy of Nicky’s laughter.
When Keith comes back on the line, we talk for a long time. I answer his questions, and he offers some feedback. Most of all, he assures me he’ll take care of Nicky and take the necessary precautions.
When I end the call, I hold the phone, warm in my hand, for a long time, as I stare at nothing. Finally, I set down the phone and lay my head on the table. And for the first time since coming to Three Rivers, since assuming Adelia’s name and wanting to embody her spirit and strength, I cry.
I let myself cry.
They aren’t tears of weakness; they are tears of grief.
I cry for Adelia.
I cry for all that’s lost.
And I cry for all I know is still to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Adelia
May 27, 2017
I pull out of the garage of the rental, pause in the driveway, and then reach for my phone. The light streaming into the Jeep from the morning sun makes the screen difficult to read. I squint, check the time, and then quickly key in the text message I’ve planned: I’M IN THREE RIVERS. ADELIA IS ALIVE.
I press SEND, and then I turn off the phone.
I’ve cast the lure.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Adelia
May 27, 2017
I didn’t want to be seen with Phil when I first arrived, didn’t want others linking me to him, especially anyone who knew Mathison. Now it no longer matters. I sit across from the retired police officer on the deck of Annie’s Emporium, each of us with a cup of coffee in hand.
He takes a sip of his coffee, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. Then he sets it back on the table. “Well, aren’t you popular? Another guy? I can’t wait to hear this…”
“I just need you to do your job.”
“That’s why I’m here, but I’ll need the details.”
I give Phil as much information as I think he needs, including what I know of the plan.
“Here’s what has to happen, and no, I can’t tell you how it’s going to happen.” I stare at him a moment. I need him to know I’m serious. “I want—I need—a life sentence, to know I will never have to face him again, to know I’ll never have to worry about him harming me or any member of my family or anyone I care about again.”
“Just like the last guy?”
I nod.
“You framing this guy the same way?”
“I won’t have to frame him. I just need him to be caught in the act.”
“Murder.”
“Attempted murder.”
“Right.”
“He will try to kill me. It won’t be the first time, but it will be the last time. I need witnesses, including law enforcement. I need an arrest.”
“Lady, you’re nuts.”
There is respect in his expression, despite his quip. I lean forward. “I’m not nuts. I have a son to protect.” As I say those words, the gratitude that’s overwhelmed me in recent days surges again. How many times was Nicky exposed, vulnerable? As hard as I worked to protect him, I missed the mark completely. In retrospect, the note left after Max was poisoned pointed to Nicky. He would have been next. I shudder despite the heat. “I’m just done. More than done. This has to end.”
“Okay, let’s get him. So how do you see this going down?”
“A lot of that is dependent on him. If he takes the bait, and he will, he could show up within the next four to five hours.”
“You know, you sounded just as sure when you thought it was the other guy.”
For just a second, my confidence wavers. But, no. “I wasn’t entirely wrong, but I’m more certain now, okay?”
“You’re the client.”
“The first place he’ll go, I suspect, is Ride the Kaweah. That’s where he’ll think to look for me. Can you have someone at the property within the next few hours?”
Phil looks at his watch then nods. “Got a description?”
“I do.”
I give him the description and what to watch for, and tell him that Mick will also be watching. Then I wait as Phil makes a call to get someone posted on Mick’s property.
“I need to know as soon as he’s here. Just like last time.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll be on the river today, so just text me. I may not get the text right away, but I will eventually. Once he’s here, don’t let him out of your sight.”
We talk through a few more details, as many as I know at this point. Then I grab my coffee cup and stand. “I need to go. Whether he shows up today or not, I need to know.”
He gets up from the table. “Be safe out there.”
“Thanks. That’s exactly what I intend to do. Oh, one more thing…” I look down at my phone, turn it on, and then wait for it to come to life. When it does, I have several messages and a slew of texts. I don’t need to look to see who they’re from. “I’m going to forward you texts and messages from him. I don’t need to read them or hear them.”
I don’t want them to disrupt my focus. I won’t allow him to do that to me. As I walk to the parking lot, I begin forwarding what’s already come in.
These are not the first texts or messages I’ve received from him since leaving home. For the first time in all these years, I knew it was time to break away, to put some distance between us. I haven’t responded to anything he’s sent or the messages he’s left, each more demanding than the last.
When I spoke with Jay, she said he’d done nothing short of hound her for information after I left.
By pulling away, I realize now, I usurped Ryan’s control, or sense of control.
For one of the first times in our relationship, I now hold the reins.
And he doesn’t like it.
Yet another memory plays on the screen of my mind as I climb into the Jeep. It was the first day of the spring semester, and Ryan offered to walk me to my car. I told him no. I was curt. Then as I walked to the parking lot, I was overwhelmed by the feeling, the fear, that someone was watching me, and a panic attack followed.
I now understand that there was nothing wrong with me—I wasn’t crazy, regardless of what I felt. Instead, my body was alerting me to a threat. That biological component that warns me had gone into full alert.
Someone was watching me, stalking me, threatening me.
Ryan.
I am sure now that he stood at the window of his new office, with the view of the campus and parking lot.
The office he took without following protocol.
Did I forget a conversation about the office or paperwork I’d signed, as Ryan implied?
No. There was no conversation. No paperwork.
That was just one of his manipulations, just one of the ways he worked to undermine my confidence.
Day by day, more is coming into focus.
As I get off Mick’s old blue bus at the put-in, I slip my phone into a waterproof case then zip it into the pocket of my splash jacket. I need to have it nearby today. Then I reach up and secure the bandanna around my head and put my helmet on over it. That done, I sidestep my way down the steep, ro
ck-strewn embankment until I reach the spot where Chase and another guide have just put my raft into the water. “Thanks,” I tell him as I step into the river and take ahold of the raft. Then I yell up the embankment. “Addie’s crew, you’re up!” I wait as six guys, all jocks, hotfoot it down to the raft.
The dread I expected to feel today is absent. Instead, I look at the crew climbing into the raft, and I’m glad I’m here. I look forward to taking on the Kaweah again. Today, I’d like to tell Phil, I do feel my age, and I’m proud of each of my forty-two years. I’m proud of what I can still do on this river.
The trip starts out fast and furious, all class IV rapids. There are few breaks on this section of the Kaweah, just short eddies in between the rapids. By the time we reach the Osterizer, the crew is working together, in sync, and taking on anything the Kaweah throws our way.
“Forward!” I yell.
They dig their oars into the water.
“Stop.”
They lift their oars.
“Forward.”
They dig in again.
The current rushes, carrying us into the rapid. Adrenaline, like an entity, crowds the raft.
“Back-paddle! Back-paddle!” I dig my own oar into the water at the back of the raft and push it against the force of the water, feeling the muscles in my shoulders and arms ripple. I dig in again, enjoying the power I’ve developed in my body. Power I’ve worked hard for. “Fifty yards. Good luck, guys!”
Osterizer bucks us like a bronco, lifting then dropping us and lifting again. We dip into a hole, and the river, like an ocean wave, tumbles over the raft, soaking us. Then we’re lifted again, the left side of the raft riding high over a boulder, but rather than throwing us, tipping us, we glide over it before dropping again.
When we make it through the rapid, we paddle to an alcove of sorts between two large rocks and shift the raft so we can watch the raft behind us come through the rapid. As they’re lifted over that same boulder that threatened to tip us, one of the rafters topples out of the raft. It happens so quickly.
“Swimmer!” one of our guys yells and then points to the person tossing in the water. Finally, she looks our way, flips over, and begins swimming toward our raft, her strokes strong and sure. The guy who’d spotted her leans over the side of the raft, then flips his oar around so the swimmer can grab the T-handle he holds out. With whoops and laughter, he and one of his buddies pull the young woman into our raft. Then they throw high fives all around.
The water is icy, the sun hot, and the entire trip exhilarating.
When we get off the river, rather than the exhaustion I’ve felt at the end of each day, I still have energy. Physically, I feel good. Great, even. Later, as I’m loading rafts into the storage units, I realize my muscles no longer ache.
I toss the last raft into the storage unit, pull my keys from my pocket and lock the unit, then make my way to the office. As I go, I know for certain that I am ready.
I am ready for whatever is to come.
May 28, 2017
When I wake and roll over to check my phone, there are no texts and no messages. I’d expected more than nothing, a lot more. At 5:45 a.m., it’s too early to call Phil, so I text him instead. WHERE IS HE? IS HE HERE?
Frustrated, I throw down the phone and lie back down. I stare at the ceiling. I was sure he’d come as soon as he’d received my text. Did Phil’s guy miss him? Even if he had, the only place he’d go looking for me is Mick’s, and Mick would have told me if he’d been there.
As I lie in bed and consider options, I realize what’s happened.
I took control.
Now Ryan, through his silence, is wrestling back that control.
I will match his silence.
I will wait.
May 29, 2017
By Monday morning I begin to wonder if he’ll come at all. Again doubt, that unwelcome intruder, niggles its way into my soul. I go about the morning routine I’ve established on the one day a week I’m not at Mick’s. With Ride the Kaweah closed today, if he shows up, where will he go? Mick’s house? Maybe.
I pour myself a cup of coffee then sit at the table in the kitchen. The pad of paper that’s become the holder of the many details whirling through my mind sits on the table in front of me. I pick up a pen and write one word on the page.
psychopath
Is this what I’m up against?
Psychopathy is one of the more difficult disorders to spot or identify. Should I have seen signs of the disorder in Ryan? That’s a question that doesn’t serve me well now, so I have to let it go. Some of the characteristics are there, certainly, but they are also characteristics that can appear normal. Ryan’s charm is certainly characteristic of psychopathy.
And if all I’m concluding about his actions are true, the telltale lack of empathy that psychopaths share is certainly evident, although he’s covered it very well through the years. He also certainly displays a penchant for manipulation, but again, it’s well covered.
But there are other characteristics that don’t seem to fit.
I tap my pen on the paper then circle the term.
“Pay attention.” The advice I’ve heard often comes back now.
Yes, I will pay attention. My life depends on it.
CHAPTER FORTY
Adelia
June 1, 2017
As dawn gives way to daylight, I stand on the deck, a light blanket wrapped around my shoulders, the morning cooler than yesterday. The tumult of the river is so constant, so familiar now, I barely notice its presence beyond the deck.
It’s been almost a week since I sent the text to Ryan, since I cast the lure into deep, murky water.
The next full moon rises on June 9th.
Time is short.
Although doubt has intruded the last several days, I always swing back to a place of confidence. Not confidence in myself but rather in the plan given to me, even if it is still skeletal. It is not something I’d have come up with on my own, I remind myself again.
I was led here, I now realize, to discover the truth.
But the truth doesn’t negate the steps I was given, the steps I’ve already taken.
It’s only the player, the primary factor, who changed.
When the moon is full…
These words settled in my soul the day I stood below my property looking at the American River. The day God planted the idea for this trip, this mission, in my mind and soul. One of the few clear senses I had was that whatever would take place would occur when the moon was full. The moon would be full only twice while I was here. One has passed; one is still to come.
When the moon is full…
What will occur on that early morning when the face of the moon blooms full again? I don’t know. But I believe we’ll meet at the river. There the veins of our individual stories will converge.
Ryan. Adelia. Denilyn.
And violence will mark the convergence of those forks.
Of this I’m certain.
As I pull off the highway and make the turn onto the small outlet where Mick’s property sits, I look for Phil or one of his employees, but I see no one, though I’m confident someone is watching. Occasionally I’ve seen Phil, or seen a car I suspected belonged to whomever had taken the shift that day, but this morning I see nothing out of the ordinary.
As I pull up to the gate and then get out of the Jeep, it seems the landscape has changed. Dense cloud cover casts the property in neutral tones, and the air hangs heavy and damp. I unlock the gate, looking around again. Then I get back in the Jeep and pull onto the property. As I do, an SUV pulls off the highway and then stops at the gate. The frame around the license plate on the front of the SUV advertises a car rental company.
I glance at the driver, but even behind the cloud cover, the window reflects muted images obscuring my view. I look away, then pat the back pocket of the shorts I wear to assure my phone is still there.
I move to the first storage unit and unlock it, waiting for the SU
V to either pull into the lot or move on. As I pull the door of the unit open, a truck pulls in behind the SUV. Mick. Thank you. After a moment, Mick taps his horn and the SUV continues down the road rather than turning into the property.
Though I couldn’t see his face, I’m sure the driver was Ryan.
Today is the day.
The fear I’ve come to know so well, the fear that’s possessed me for so long, does not make an appearance. Instead, a prayer breezes through my mind as though it were the most natural action. It’s in Your hands…
Mick parks his truck, gets out, and heads straight for the office. By the time he gets there, the SUV has turned around and is making another pass. The driver continues past the gate and then gets back on the highway.
He obviously saw me, but did he recognize me?
I have no idea what he’s doing, but evidently he doesn’t want to show himself yet.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Phil, alerting him to watch for a silver SUV. I give him the make and tell him the rental company named on the license frame. I also give him the first three letters from the license plate, I didn’t have time to memorize the whole sequence.
I almost immediately receive a response to my text. I SAW IT. ON HIS TAIL NOW.
Although I expect the driver of the SUV to return, as the morning wears on and there’s no sign of him, I wonder if my earlier sense was off. Maybe it was just another tourist checking out a white-water adventure company. Have I led Phil on a wild-goose chase?
But after I’ve given the safety spiel and we’re loaded on the bus, pulling out of the property, the same SUV pulls off the highway and passes us as it turns onto the property. This time I have a clear view of the driver’s profile, a profile I know very well.
Seeing him now, with all I know, fuels the fire within.
Less than five minutes later my cell phone vibrates and I find a text from Phil. HE’S HERE.
The timing of Ryan’s arrival is calculated rather than accidental. He likely drove by this morning to check out the place, maybe to see if I was there. But he knows exactly when I’d leave the property for the put-in. He also knows when he’d find Mick, if not alone on the property, at least less involved with others.
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