Jealousy Filled Donuts

by Ginger Bolton

  I drove to Wisconsin Street and took the faster route.

  My parents’ RV was not at their site, and the grass didn’t need mowing again this soon.

  I climbed up to my old favorite perch on the boulder and sat there hugging my knees and soaking up the feeling of once again being in this forested campground I had loved as a kid.

  In nearby sites, dishes clattered and adults laughed. Kids clamored for s’mores. “It’s not dark enough yet,” a man said lovingly. “We’ll build a fire later.” There was a chorus of protests until the man reminded the kids that an early campfire could mean an early bedtime. I couldn’t help smiling. How many times had I participated in an argument like that one? The tang of woodsmoke drifted around me—someone who didn’t need to be concerned about a too-early bedtime already had a campfire going.

  The boulder I was sitting on became knobbier and harder than I remembered. Dep was waiting for me at home, probably not patiently. My folks liked to stop driving each night in time to make dinner. Over that bad connection, my mother must have been saying that she and my father wouldn’t be arriving that evening. Disappointed that they had not yet made it back, I clambered down, shut myself into my car, and eased down the narrow road toward the campground exit. There were usually lots of kids in the campground. I drove slowly.

  Heading toward the falls side of the campground, I was still pretty far back from one of the campground’s intersections when, ahead of me, a small black car crossed the narrow road I was on and went out of my sight. I stopped. The driver’s head had been turned away from me, but I’d recognized him.

  Philip Landsdowner.

  I was almost positive that the small black car was the one that had accelerated past my parents’ campsite on Monday afternoon. Landsdowner had probably seen my car there and had seen me locking the shed and looking toward the campground road.

  Had he returned to the campground this evening to try to find me, and if so, did that mean that he was still looking for Jocelyn? My heart pounded.

  She couldn’t be, simply could not be, in his clutches.

  But where was she?

  Maybe I should have waited for Brent to return my call and then accepted his offer to come out here with me. That would have been silly. I hadn’t known that Philip Landsdowner would show up in my parents’ campground again.

  I felt fairly safe from Landsdowner at the moment. When he’d crossed the intersection in front of me only seconds before, he should have looked both directions, but he’d seemed to focus only in one direction as if he’d expected to see someone—Jocelyn? —down that road. I didn’t think he had even glanced toward me.

  However, what if he turned around and came back? Or continued following the road he was on? He could pass my parents’ campsite and then end up where I was sitting in my idling and too-recognizable car. He could be a killer, and he might believe that I was out here gathering information about him that would prove he had killed Taylor Wishbard. Searching for him, staying here, or returning to my parents’ site could be dangerous.

  I needed to be somewhere safe where I could call Brent.

  I quickly backed my car into an unkempt site with a camper trailer on it. A faded FOR SALE sign was in one window.

  I tucked my car mostly behind the trailer and hoped that if Philip Landsdowner drove along this road, he wouldn’t guess that the fresh tire tracks plowing through the weeds into this campsite had anything to do with him or with anyone hiding from him. I also had to hope that he wouldn’t see the nose of my car poking out behind the trailer. Because of the unmown weeds, my car should be visible only from the windshield up. Maybe the red roof was far enough back that he wouldn’t see it.

  He could have been driving around the campground on Monday and again today for a completely innocent reason, like he was living here for the summer. I wondered what he’d given the police as a home address.

  I unbuckled my seat belt and pulled my backpack closer. Trying not to disturb the sack of donuts, I dug out my phone. My call to Brent went directly to message again.

  Before I’d turned off the engine, I should have opened the windows so I could hear if anyone was near. Whispering even though the windows were closed, I left a message that I’d seen Philip Landsdowner in the Fallingbrook Falls Campground. “I’m not at my parents’ site, but he was driving on a road that could take him to it. I know they’re not there, so don’t worry, I’m not about to go confront him if that’s where he’s heading.” I added, “I’m parked in a different campsite near one of the trails to the falls. I’ll stay in my car for about ten minutes, and then I’ll take the shortest route home. I’ll let you know when I get there.” Or, if a small black car followed me again, I would drive straight to the police station. And this time, I would go in.

  In case Brent’s personal phone wasn’t working, I called the police department and asked for him. A very nice dispatcher put me through to his line. I left another message.

  I disconnected and slumped down in the comfy driver’s seat to wait the ten minutes. Hoping for a response from Brent, I held my phone in my hand.

  Across the road, in trees behind another campsite, someone moved between the trunks of a couple of white birches. I leaned forward to see better through the windshield. It was a woman, a young one, graceful, with long dark hair.

  Jocelyn.

  I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I didn’t care what had prevented her from coming into work. The important thing was that she was okay.

  Or was she? She was setting her feet down carefully as if she was trying not to be heard or seen. Wearing jeans and an oversized grayish green jacket that didn’t quite blend in with the trees around her, she was heading up one of the trails that could take her to the river and the falls. She stopped, looked down the trail behind her for a second, and then flitted out of my sight beyond dense pines and a rocky outcropping.

  Was she running away from someone? Philip Landsdowner?

  I called Brent’s personal number again and left a message that I’d seen Jocelyn alone in the campground and hiking up toward Fallingbrook Falls or the river above the falls and she’d seemed fine, but she’d looked like she was trying to escape unnoticed from someone or something. I added, “I don’t know where Landsdowner is, but he’s in a car, and she’s on a trail where cars can’t go.” Not even small cars. If she was fleeing from him, she should be safe.

  I had a few questions for Jocelyn. She didn’t answer her phone. I left a short message. “Philip Landsdowner is in the Fallingbrook Falls Campground.”

  I disconnected and stared out through the windshield. It was just after eight, and that week the sun had been setting around a quarter to nine. Even in the woods, it wouldn’t be fully dark for over an hour, but I doubted that Jocelyn knew the trails as well as I did, thanks to the hours I’d spent exploring them with Misty and Samantha.

  Another movement beyond the campsite across the road caught my eye.

  Philip Landsdowner, wearing blue jeans, a khaki photographer’s vest over a light-colored T-shirt, and a camera on a strap around his neck, was walking between the birch trees where I’d spotted Jocelyn minutes before.

  His movements were furtive. Unlike Jocelyn, he didn’t turn around and look behind him. He didn’t seem to glance toward me and my car, both mostly concealed, I hoped, by weeds and the forlorn trailer.

  He faced one direction only, toward where Jocelyn had disappeared. Walking swiftly but cautiously, he also went out of sight behind the dense pines and the rocky outcropping.

  Chapter 31

  It was terrifyingly obvious. Landsdowner was sneaking into the woods. Following Jocelyn.

  Deliberately.

  She was younger and probably more fit than he was. Even moving cautiously, she should be able to outdistance him.

  I again speed-dialed Brent’s personal number, and again, his phone went directly to message. Breathlessly but quietly, I blurted, “Landsdowner is on foot. He’s following Jocelyn up a trail that goes from t
he campground to the river and the falls. I’m going to call her again. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll try to find her before Landsdowner does. I know all of the trails and shortcuts.” Guessing what he would probably say, I added, “I’ll be careful.”

  I set my phone to vibrate only. If Brent or Jocelyn returned my calls, my phone wouldn’t play its little tune and announce to Landsdowner that I was creeping up on him.

  Hoping that Jocelyn had also turned off her ringtone, I phoned her.

  No answer.

  I murmured a message. “Philip Landsdowner is following you. Call and tell me where you are so I can find you before he does. Meanwhile, I’m going to take the trail he’s on, the one you were on when you left the campground. If I haven’t heard from you, I’m going to follow that trail all the way to where it ends at the main trail, pretty far up the river above the falls. If you and I haven’t connected by then, I’ll start down the main trail to the parking lot and look for you.” I hoped she’d understand which trails I’d meant.

  Wishing I’d brought a sweater in a less eye-catching color, I slipped out of the car and put on the red sweater. I needed to hurry, but I also needed to be as prepared as possible. I took a flashlight and a first-aid kit out of my trunk and tucked them into my backpack beside the bag of donuts. I hoped I hadn’t squeezed the donuts. At the moment, however, cleaning sticky jelly out of my backpack was not high on my priority list.

  I shoved my phone into a jeans pocket, slipped my backpack on, and crossed the road. Beyond the birches where I’d seen both Jocelyn and Landsdowner, the uphill trail zigzagged around boulders. Neither Jocelyn nor Landsdowner was in sight.

  I climbed quickly. Downhill and to my right, the campground was full of happy sounds that brought back memories of staying out here on magical summer evenings, of watching fireflies and waiting for the nightly campfire. When I was really little, I often fell asleep during the campfire while the adults around me played musical instruments and sang.

  The falls were uphill and to my left, far enough away that the constant rush of water was barely louder than a breeze.

  A side trail branched to the left. That trail went down to the parking lot for the falls. If Jocelyn had turned off onto that trail, she could hike about a half mile along the road to the campground’s main entrance. Most of the people who stayed in the campground were very friendly. They would gladly protect her from Landsdowner.

  But the way Jocelyn had left the campground made me think that something in the campground had frightened her. If she was trying to get as far away as fast as possible, she might have stayed on this trail.

  In my message, I’d told her I would hike up this trail, so I needed to stay on it as long as there was a possibility that she was still on it. I probably should have warned her that it led to steeper trails, eroding riverbanks, slippery boulders, and dangerously fast water. Hoping to catch her before she got that far, I hiked upward, setting my feet down quietly and watching and listening for other people.

  I passed two more side trails. One of them led to the trail running along the cliff below the falls, and the other led to the top of the falls, where water shot over a rocky lip and then fell straight down into the gorge. Had Jocelyn taken one of those trails? Had Landsdowner? Were they on two different trails, or was he about to catch up to her?

  My phone remained stubbornly still and non-vibrating.

  Even if Jocelyn hadn’t received my message, I might be able to find her on this longest loop. If I didn’t, I would go back and forth on all of the trails until dusk made these rocky trails too dangerous even for me.

  The one I was on became steeper and more treacherous.

  Emerging from a canyon between two boulders, I saw someone in a light-colored vest on the trail ahead of me.

  Landsdowner.

  He was standing still and looking farther uphill. Had he spotted Jocelyn, or was he merely searching for her?

  Afraid he was about to turn around and see me, I backed out of sight until I could safely turn around. As light-footed as possible, I strode down the root-strewn path to the next trail, the one that led to the top of the falls. I started up that trail. It was one of the shortcuts that I’d mentioned in my message to Brent. It would get me to the junction of trails where I’d told Jocelyn I’d meet her, could possibly get me there as soon as or sooner than the one where I’d just seen Landsdowner.

  However, it was time to call in reinforcements.

  I wasn’t certain that Landsdowner meant any harm to Jocelyn or that he would find her, so I couldn’t justify calling 911 or even the police. And Brent was obviously busy or he would have returned my calls. However, if Misty was off duty tonight, I could use her company.

  She didn’t answer. I whispered into the phone, “I’m at Fallingbrook Falls, on Popcorn Trail heading away from the campground and toward the falls. My assistant is up here somewhere and so is Philip Landsdowner. I don’t know if Jocelyn’s in danger, but I could use help finding her before dark or before Landsdowner does. Call me back?”

  As far as I knew, the trail didn’t have an actual name. Popcorn was the name that Samantha, Misty, and I had given it when we were about eleven and found a line of popcorn sprinkled along it.

  Glancing uneasily down Popcorn in case Landsdowner had backtracked and was sneaking up behind me, I stepped a little farther into the cover of feathery hemlock branches and called Samantha.

  She answered with a cheerful, “Emily!”

  “Are you working?”

  “No. Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m hiding from . . . that’s not important. I’m on Popcorn Trail and could use Misty’s help, but she’s not answering.”

  “Is it a police matter?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know, but I need to find Tom’s and my new assistant, Jocelyn. Last I knew, she was heading up Skinned Knee Trail”—the knee in question had been Samantha’s—“toward the river above the falls, and a man she seems to fear is following her. If you can, could you keep calling Misty and tell her I’d like her company if she’s available? Tell her that Philip Landsdowner is following Jocelyn.”

  “I can and I will, and I’ll do something even better. I’ll bring you an off-duty policeman. Hooligan has never visited the falls, and we’re actually on our way. We should be there in about ten minutes.”

  For the first time since I’d seen Landsdowner following Jocelyn up Skinned Knee Trail, I could almost breathe. “Perfect. Climb up Noisy Cawing Crow Trail and I’ll meet you near the top of the falls.” Some people called the trail that ran from the parking lot up one side of the falls and then along the river above the falls the main trail. Visitors who didn’t know about the trails leading to and from the campground probably just thought of it as the trail. I added, “Call or text me if you find Jocelyn.”

  I thrust my phone into my pocket again and peeked out between hemlock branches. No one was on the part of Popcorn Trail that I could see. I hurried up the rapidly ascending trail. Stones hurt my feet through the soles of my sneakers, and the root of a tree jutted up just high enough to catch the toe of one shoe and nearly send me sprawling.

  Finally, hoping to see Samantha and Hooligan already there, I approached Noisy Cawing Crow Trail. I slowed, listening for voices. All I heard was roaring water.

  I crept forward.

  Due to the steepness of this part of Noisy Cawing Crow Trail, I couldn’t see very far either uphill or downhill. No one was on the section that I could see.

  It had been just over five minutes since I’d talked to Samantha. Even if she and Hooligan had made it to the parking lot, they would not have had time to climb up this far yet.

  If Jocelyn had gone downhill from here and if she hadn’t taken one of the other trails leading back to the campground, she would meet Samantha and Hooligan. They would let me know she was safe with them.

  If Jocelyn was upriver from me, though, and if Philip Landsdowner was still following her, I didn’t have time to wait for my friends. />
  I ran several feet up the trail to a level, knee-high boulder on the other side of the trail from where the Fallingbrook River streamed over the outthrust ledge of its rocky riverbed. Samantha, Misty, and I used to leave messages for each other on the boulder. We had usually arranged twigs into arrows that signaled which way the others were to go to find the hidden treasure or a clue to solve one of Misty’s inventive detective games. I brushed leaf debris off the boulder, whipped off my backpack, and pulled the bag of donuts out. The donuts were only a little squashed. I squeezed grape jelly onto the boulder in the approximation of a straight line paralleling Noisy Cawing Crow Trail. Then I broke the hollowed donut into two semicircular halves and arranged them on the upriver end of the line of grape jelly to make a sort of arrow pointing uphill.

  If Samantha hiked up this part of Noisy Cawing Crow, she would probably, from habit and without thinking about it, glance at the top of that rock. She would remember the amateur sleuth games that Misty used to direct up here, and she would recognize that I had left her a sign, an arrow pointing the way I had gone.

  However, if Philip Landsdowner was up here searching for Jocelyn, he might pass the broken donut and see it as nothing more than biodegradable litter.

  Hoping that the descendants of the original noisy cawing crow weren’t waiting in trees above me to swoop down and fly off with donut halves in their beaks, I glanced toward the sky. No crows, noisy or otherwise.

  I hiked along the river above the falls. Although the trail now sloped upward only gradually, it twisted around rocks and tree trunks, and there were holes and gullies to leap over or find a way around. As I went farther, the river became less tumultuous, but it still had to flow around boulders and fallen trees. Even this far from the falls, the current could sweep unwary hikers downstream, bashing them against rocks. If those rocks didn’t stop them or if they couldn’t wade out of the river, they could plummet over the falls and into heaps of deadly rocks far below.

  The river and Noisy Cawing Crow both curved to my right, so I couldn’t see far along the shore, but I knew I had almost reached the spot where Skinned Knee joined the trail I was on.