Dark Roads

by Chevy Stevens

  “That’s good,” he said. “I like that.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Hailey

  Thompson chatted briefly with Mason. Then he walked away. I watched in disbelief. Should I go to Mason’s place, or stay here? I paced along the edge of the woods, indecisive. Wolf watched me. Around noon, I caught motion behind the diner’s windows. The CLOSED sign moved like Mason was checking it. Nothing for a few minutes, then the side door opened. He was getting into his truck. He had waited a long time and I wondered at his patience. The idea that he might dump her body turned my legs to liquid, but I couldn’t follow him on the highway. My indecision melted away. I had to get to his house and hope she was still alive.

  I rode the bike recklessly, Wolf balanced with me, taking turn after turn. As I neared Mason’s property, I passed the spot where Dad had crashed. The bark on the trees was still scraped from when his truck had launched into the air. I’d never understood why he was going so fast. I’d never known him to speed. He didn’t normally even take that route up to the mountain. Now I wondered if Dad might’ve stopped at Mason’s to retrieve his tools and seen something. Something bad. I swallowed hard.

  After the next bend, I cut across the road, jumped a ditch, and made the bike climb a hill so steep I had to use my feet to balance. The tires spun at the top, churning up dirt. Wolf leaned against my back. We coasted down the other side into a hollow and parked beside the creek.

  I told Wolf to guard the dirt bike, gave him the last bone, and hiked up the hill as fast as I could in the direction of Mason’s house. I was still wearing my backpack, and I had gloves on. I wasn’t leaving fingerprints behind. One knife was in my ankle sheath, and the other on my hip. I didn’t know what kind of weapons Mason might have. I wished more than anything that I had my gun, but I’d used all my ammo when I was trying to ambush Vaughn, and I couldn’t take the time to get more.

  Mason’s house sat in a small clearing surrounded by trees. I surveyed it from the edge of the forest. Small, rustic, wood siding. No signs of life. Behind the house, at the end of a second driveway, there was a large metal building. A garage. Mason’s truck was parked in front. He’d backed it in like he had to unload something from the camper. My stomach did an ugly flip.

  I used my binoculars to check the house. One security camera by the front door. I’d have to avoid it. I moved from tree to tree until I’d reached the garage. The engine on the truck was still ticking.

  The building was old, with rusted sheet metal on the sides, a half-moon-shaped roof, and a foot of concrete foundation aboveground. I pressed my ear to the metal side and heard muffled sounds. Scraping, then a clinking sound. Chains? I pressed my hands to my eyes and rocked back on my heels.

  What was I going to do? I wished Jonny was here. I wished I had my dad with me.

  I crept around to the front of the building. The door was cracked open a sliver. A stone had lodged under the bottom. Silence. The clinking sound had stopped. I crouched low and stayed to the left of the door so that if he pushed it open, I would be behind it.

  I inched closer, peered through the opening. My knees buckled. Beth stood naked on a stool. A noose hung around her neck. Her head drooped and her blond hair was a messy veil over the side of her face. Some of the strands were streaked with blood. Her hands and feet were free, but there were red marks around her ankles. Ropes were on the floor.

  She was alive. She was still alive.

  The noose was tied to a chain dangling from a roof beam. He was standing to the side of her with a camera. He grabbed her under the chin with his free hand. Her eyes were wide, and she was gagged, lips pulled back. Her body twitched and jerked as she shivered.

  I twisted my finger and gently pulled the door. Mason was still focused on Beth. If she saw me, she might cry out. Could I hide somewhere? There were workbenches on either side, toolboxes, crates and barrels. At the back of the garage I spotted his Harley-Davidson. I pulled the door open a little more—testing whether the hinges would squeak—and slipped through. My shirt snagged. I reached down, fiddled with the fabric. If he turned, he would see me.

  Mason was pacing around Beth, shifting his stance each time he took a photo, and holding the camera in one hand like this was some sort of sick fashion shoot. Long red marks lined her ribs, arms, and legs. I’d seen those marks before. On Amber. Then I saw the metal rod on the floor by his feet. He’d beaten Beth before I got here. He was going to beat her again.

  My shirt finally tore free and I crawled over the rough concrete to a darkened corner, where I fit behind a barrel. I slipped my hand down and slowly removed my knife from my belt.

  Mason froze, like an animal in the forest, and twisted his body. I held my breath. He was walking toward the door now. I tucked my head, hunched my shoulders, and made myself small.

  He opened the door and looked around. I prayed that Wolf hadn’t followed me, prayed that I hadn’t left any footprints. After a long moment, he shut the door tight.

  I watched him as his gaze skimmed around the room, then he focused on Beth. She was moaning, trying to stand straight. She lost her balance and fell off the stool. Now she was choking, legs kicking out, her hands clawing at the rope around her neck. Mason grabbed her and set her feet on the stool. She swung her fist, trying to punch him, but he easily stepped back.

  “Do that again and I’ll let you die.” Now I realized his plan. She was forced to endure the suffering or hang herself. Beth stood with her chest heaving and tears running down her face. I wanted to signal to her to stay calm, that I was going to save her, but I couldn’t risk it.

  Mason picked up the metal rod, and still holding the camera, he began walking around her. He slapped the rod against her butt, and she cried out, jerking to the side and nearly falling.

  I instinctively reached out to help her, my hand grasping at air, then I snatched it back. I wasn’t fast enough, though, and Beth noticed, her eyes staring blindly at the corner. She groaned. I held my finger to my mouth. She blinked slowly.

  Mason hit her again with the rod across her butt and she leapt forward, only stopping herself with one toe before she swung forward. Mason lifted the camera and took some photos of the marks he’d left on her skin. He got closer, zooming in on the red pattern.

  I couldn’t just sit here and watch. He could hit her hard enough to kill her. She might get knocked off the stool and choke. But I couldn’t throw the knife from a seated position. I had to stand, and I had one shot at it—if I missed, Beth and I might both be killed.

  Mason hit her again. The fleshy smack echoed in the garage. Beth’s eyes were squeezed tight with pain, but then she opened them. Some emotion I couldn’t fathom came over her face. Dark and determined.

  Beth’s legs tensed, and when Mason came around the front, she kicked out. He turned at the last moment and her foot missed, sending her body spinning off the stool. She was moving too fast to put her foot back down this time, and her neck jerked as she spun helplessly.

  I didn’t think. I just moved. Rising to my feet, I leaned back, and, focused on Mason’s broad back, threw the knife with all my strength. At the last moment, he moved, dancing around her spinning body. The knife struck his shoulder.

  He roared, dropping his camera and the metal rod.

  Beth’s face was turning red. Blood-red. She was choking.

  Mason reached behind his head and yanked out the knife. He whirled around and saw me, his mouth gaping in the middle of his messy beard. His surprise was already turning to rage.

  He lunged toward me, my knife gripped in his hand. I didn’t have time to pull my other one out from my ankle sheath. I ran straight at him, dropped, and kicked his legs. He crashed onto his back. Beth was still spinning. I reached out and booted the stool to slide beneath her feet. Mason was rising. In one motion, I snatched up the metal rod from the floor, leapt into a standing position, and struck him with all my power across his head. The rod bounced back from the impact, sent vibrations up my arm.

  He fell to
his knees, weaving, but still conscious. “Haywire,” he croaked. “Look at you, alive and kicking.” He laughed, a maniacal sound that sent shivers down my spine.

  I rushed at him with the rod. He swung up and the knife missed my face, but his arm hit me in the chin. The force knocked me down. The metal rod rolled from my hands and I slid into Beth’s stool. She was back in the air, jerking, making a retching sound. I grappled with the stool.

  Mason was reaching for me, holding my knife out like a dagger. I turned onto my back and booted him hard in the nose, felt the cartilage give under my heel, then scrambled to help Beth. Her toes landed on the stool. I couldn’t beat Mason in a knife fight—his reach was longer than mine. I felt for items on the workbench. What could I use for a weapon?

  “I called the cops,” I panted. “They’ll be here any second.”

  He swiped the blood from his broken nose. No laughing this time. His eyes were on me, measuring. I reached for a long section of chain he had on the bench and swung wide, wrapping it around his wrist. I yanked him toward me. My knife slipped out of his hand and skittered to the far end of the building. I bent over and pulled my other one from the ankle sheath, held it in front of me, ready to attack. But Mason wasn’t coming after me, he was turning toward Beth.

  He brought his foot back to kick the stool. Beth swung her body and locked her knees around his head, pushing herself up to keep pressure off her neck and squeezing him hard. He punched at her legs.

  I plunged my knife into his back and wrenched it out.

  Mason twisted around. I slashed across his neck, cutting his jugular in one long gash. He made a choking sound, a frothy red bubble at his lips as he clutched his throat. Blood spurted through his hands in a dark stream. He collapsed to his knees, then fell sideways, and sprawled out with his eyes wide and shocked. One last gurgle leaked from his body.

  Beth’s feet had landed back on the stool. She was staring at Mason and sobbing through the gag. I pushed one of the barrels closer and sawed at the noose. The fibers were thick, but finally the rope snapped. I wasn’t strong enough to hold her, but I tried to use my body to slow her fall. She toppled forward and hit the cement with a heavy thump. She didn’t move.

  I jumped off the barrel and removed the gag, wet with her saliva and blood. I patted my fingers against her bruised cheeks. “Hey, wake up.” Her eyes fluttered open and she took a heaving gasp, then another, choking and wheezing. “Easy, slow breaths.”

  She clutched at my wrist, panicked as she looked around. “Where is he?” Her voice was raspy and sore-sounding, but she could talk. That was good news.

  “Gone. He’s dead.” She dropped her head back, eyes rolling. “Don’t pass out again, please. Beth? Beth?” I touched her neck, felt for her pulse. She took a gulping breath. Her lungs and heart were trying to catch up. Her skin was so red and bruised. What if her throat swelled shut? I had to get help. Mason would have a phone inside. I got onto my knees. Her eyes opened.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered.

  “I’m going to call 911 from his house. I’ll pretend to be you.”

  “It has to be my voice.” She winced as her throat contracted. “They’ll listen to the recording. Help me walk.”

  I thought for a moment. Could I carry her? She wasn’t much bigger than me, but she’d been hurt. She should stay still. She reached out and pinched my calf. I gasped.

  “Do it, Hailey.”

  “Fine. But if you pass out, it’s not my fault.” I slid my arm under her neck and gently lifted her to a sitting position. Her body weaved, her eyelids flickered, but she held on and nodded when she was ready for the next step. I got to my feet, dragging her up with me. She staggered, and I gripped her around the waist, then we slowly limped to the house.

  We made the last few wobbly steps and I opened Mason’s door, scared for a moment that he might have rigged a trap or bomb of some type, but nothing happened. The inside of the house was dark, with wood paneling and brown linoleum.

  In the kitchen, I let Beth slide to the floor, pulled a bag of peas out of the freezer, wrapped them in a towel, and held the cold pack to her neck. “You kicked ass in there. That leg move? It was like watching WWE.”

  “Are you being nice to me? Have I died?” she whispered.

  “Shut up or I’ll gag you again.”

  She snorted, but I knew she was grateful for the dumb joke. I didn’t know how else to deal with everything that had just happened. Mason’s bleeding body in the garage. Beth naked in front of me. I pulled a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her. “It’s going to be okay,” I said, with a serious voice this time as I looked her in the eye. “It’s over.”

  She rested her head on her knees and started to cry. I rubbed her back. I couldn’t make her feel better. She needed help beyond me.

  “You have to get to the hospital. I’m going to find the phone.”

  She lifted her face. “You can’t let Vaughn see you.”

  “I don’t plan on it. I’m going to remove the security cameras.” I would have to take Mason’s computer or whatever he had been downloading the recording onto, which was stealing evidence, but Beth didn’t seem to think about that part, and I didn’t want to bring it up.

  I found Mason’s landline on the coffee table in his living room. I glanced down the hall. The bedrooms must be back there. Maybe an office.

  Beth wasn’t looking good, her face pale in the places that weren’t bruised purple and bloody. I pressed the numbers and held the phone to her ear. She spoke in her raspy, damaged voice to the operator. “Help, I need help.”

  I gnawed at my fingernails and looked out the window as she finished telling them as much as she could. She nodded at me when she was done.

  “He has knife wounds in his back. You’ll have to explain everything.” I wiped my knife with a paper towel, removing any fingerprints I’d left in the past.

  I pressed her fingers around the knife. “They’ll want this.”

  “I’ll say he cut me down. We fought. I got the knife away from him.”

  “They’re not stupid.”

  “They’ll be distracted. I’m the victim, not a suspect.”

  “Vaughn will be looking for proof that I was one of Mason’s victims.”

  “I’ll say he talked about you.”

  “Yeah, okay, that’s good.” We didn’t have much time. I got to my feet and ran down the hall. Three rooms. One looked like storage with cardboard boxes, one was a spare bedroom with a small bed, and the last one was an office of sorts with a filing cabinet and a desk. On top of the desk I found an iPad. I searched around but I couldn’t find a computer. I’d never seen him with a laptop at the diner. I had to hope the iPad was all he used for recording security video.

  Back in the living room, I opened the front door. No sirens yet. I stood on a crate on the porch and ripped the security camera off the wall. It left a few small holes, but the cops wouldn’t know for sure what had been there.

  Beth was slumped in that ugly blanket. I crouched in front of her.

  “I need his cell phone. Did you see him with it?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “I’ll check the garage before I leave.” I walked to the door and looked back at her. “You’ll be okay. The ambulance will be here soon.”

  “I’ve never seen where Amber died. The ditch.”

  “Okay…” I stared at her, one hand still on the door handle. She was mumbling, and I worried that she was going into worse shock. Some sort of concussion side effect.

  “I know there’s a cross,” she said. “But I couldn’t go there. Why do people do that? She was dumped there like a piece of garbage.” She was holding my gaze like she wanted me to make sense of it all, but I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t good at those sorts of conversations.

  “I think it helps them.”

  “Helps?” She choked a bitter laugh. “What could it help?”

  “They want her to know she isn’t forgotten.”

&
nbsp; Her eyes filled with fresh tears and she swallowed, then winced. “They didn’t even know her.”

  I bowed my head, nodded because it didn’t matter what I said. She was exhausted, in pain, and there was nothing that was going to fix those wounds. Sirens trilled in the distance.

  “I have to go.”

  She looked at up at me. “Be careful.”

  “Of what? We killed the big bad wolf.” I made a face at her, then dashed out the door and sprinted toward the garage. I found Mason’s cell phone in his back pocket. His body was cooling, his eyes turned blindly to the side, the blood a wide black pool. I thought of Amber.

  I looked down at him. “I hope you rot in hell.”

  * * *

  The sirens grew louder as I jogged through the woods. Soon red and blue lights were flashing through the trees. Wolf jumped all over me, frantic with his kisses and warbles of relief.

  “Hang on. We’re going to go fast.” I hopped onto the bike, and Wolf landed in his crate. We were on the logging road in under a minute. I hoped the sirens would drown out the noise of my bike. I skidded around a corner near where my dad had crashed, and caught my breath, but then an invisible hand righted my wheel. I was straight and heading out of the curve. I’d made it.

  CHAPTER 36

  Beth

  Hailey was gone. Her hiking boots had stepped out of sight, the door closed behind her, and now Beth was alone. In Mason’s house. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She didn’t want strangers to see her naked, beaten body. She retched onto the floor, crying as bitter liquid slid up her damaged throat.

  She had to think, had to remember not to slip and reveal anything about Hailey. Hot tears stung the cuts on her face. Hailey had saved her. She hoped she got away.

  The sirens were closer. Right outside now. They sounded like a long scream that went on and on. She pressed the palms of her hands to her ears, noticed more blood, her raw wrists.