Canyon Echoes

by Miranda Nading

  You could have left.

  You could have called the police.

  You could have told your mother.

  “I tried!” Gracie slammed her hand down on the table and immediately regretted it. Both dogs ran to the forward end of the coach and cowered under the seats. Much like them, the voices fell silent. The last thing she ever wanted to do was make her little fur-babies fear her.

  “I'm sorry,” she whispered, to both her dogs, and the voices in her head. “I'm so sorry.”

  Her mother's voice again. Why do you fight us? You know who we are.

  Gracie's lip trembled as she struggled to face a truth she had buried. “You're me.” With her admission, the other voices began to chime in again.

  Aren't you tired of fighting?

  Aren't you tired of running?

  Aren't you tired of hurting the people around you?

  They cared about you.

  You killed them.

  You did this.

  Aren't you tired?

  “So tired,” she sobbed. Launching from the table, she landed on the couch and cried as the voices assaulted her with a relentless barrage of accusations and judgments, each blow tempered by a soft glove of pity.

  She had no idea how long she cowered on the couch, fighting to get the voices to stop. Feeling overwhelmed and out of control, she pushed up from the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. Coffee and bile burned her throat as her body rejected what little she had put in her stomach.

  Stripping down, she threw her clothes to the floor and crawled in the small shower, turning the water on high. An initial blast of ice-cold water shocked her system, making her breath catch in her chest. The world went dark.

  The little girl reached for the glass doors, luminous with the cold light of the moon.

  “No, please, no,” Gracie cried. “Not now.”

  She tried to grab the little girl's hand, tried to pull her away from the door, but she was no more substantial than vapor, a ghost in a world that wasn't hers.

  Gradually, by slow degrees, the water warmed, but she couldn't stop shivering. Focusing on the rush of water, the white noise it created, and her ice-cold skin, she fought to pull free of that dark world.

  She was outside. The dirt at her feet was ripped, torn. A freshly dug grave. Hair glistening in the moonlight.

  Only five gallons, the hot water tank didn't take long to drain, sending freezing water pouring over her head once more.

  “NO!” she screamed, slamming her fist in to the fragile plastic surround, breaking free from the dark images.

  She shut the water down, but didn't get up. This had to end, tonight. She couldn't take anymore. Everything was falling apart. She couldn't make herself believe she had hurt anyone, especially her family. They meant too much to her, had helped her become someone she never thought she could be.

  Regardless of her belief in her own innocence, she couldn't handle what was happening inside her skull. The idea of being trapped behind gray and white walls, confined to a padded cell after having known the freedom she'd found over the last few years, killed something inside of her.

  Though the other voices had fallen silent under the icy water and dark visions of the little girl; the Other was still close. The killer is still out there. Still watching. Waiting.

  She needed Julie. Desperately needed her, but didn't dare go to her. If there was any chance, any chance at all, that she was doing these things, she couldn't risk the one woman who had been the closest thing to a mother she had ever known. If she wasn't the killer—if the Other was right—there was only one way out.

  Gently, afraid that any sudden movement would cause the voices in her head to renew their attack, she crawled out of the shower and began to dress. Filling the dog bowls to overflowing, just in case, she sat down in the floor and called them. Fred and Ginger came at once, crawling into her lap and rubbing against her face, trying in their little way to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Gracie laughed and couldn't handle the heartbreak she heard in it.

  Dogs… no matter what you did—you could beat them, kick them, scream at them… they offered only love in return. Forgiveness. It made her guilt that much harder to bear. She kissed each of them and promised the same for them, between her tears. “Julie will come and take care of you. She will. Be good for her.”

  The road through the lower loop was empty. The night, dark once more.

  Slipping into her jacket, with a final word to Fred and Ginger, Gracie stepped out into the night. The old Schwinn, carried through all these years, was still latched to the back of the RV, waiting for spring. Popping the clamps loose, she dropped the bike to the ground and pushed it to the road.

  With one last look at her fur-babies in the front windshield, their frantic barks barely audible, she threw her leg over the bike and shoved off. One way or another, this nightmare had to end before it ripped her apart. It had to end tonight.

  23

  Finishing off his second cup of coffee, Hudson stretched in the seat and nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. “Hudson.”

  Billie's sleepy voice filled the line. “Still awake?”

  “It's a near thing. I'd forgotten that this was worse than waiting at the dentist office.”

  “This might help. Got a call from my contact. She was able to dig a little deeper. I don't know what this is worth, but most of the records before her stepfather's death indicate some pretty heavy child abuse. There were a few other things, truancy, running away, and shop lifting when she was a kid, but most of what my contact is seeing shows a very hurt little girl.”

  He hesitated to ask, he thought he already knew what Billie would say. “What do you make of it?”

  She was quiet for a moment, and then answered. “I'm wondering if her stepfather's death wasn't justified. I wonder if they stuck her in that hospital because they didn't know what else to do with her.”

  His gut told him Gracie had everything to do with what was happening in their park, but he would force himself to keep an open mind. “It's worth checking into. Have you gotten any more from the murder investigation?”

  “Nothing yet, Boss.”

  “All right,” he sighed. “Let me know.”

  As he hung up the phone, movement in the small circle of light cast by her front windows caught his attention. Gracie, alone on a bike, moved off down the road. This was his chance, she was up to something more and now he could catch her in the act.

  He thought about calling David for backup, but didn't want to bring any more attention to himself than he absolutely had to. Not until he had proof. He wouldn't risk David's job, not yet. Waiting until she turned the corner at the end of the road, he started his truck, but left the headlights off.

  Instead of taking the time to follow the road back out, afraid of losing her, he let the truck bump and bounce down the slope and alongside the shelter before turning onto the road. He didn't want to gun the engine and warn her that he was behind her, but he needed to catch up. Giving it just a little gas, dodging the potholes, he made the turn at the end in time to see her follow the loop around to the right, toward the main entrance to the service road.

  At the stop sign, he pulled out just far enough to see her peddling toward the village. It would be too easy to lose her on the back roads that wove through the cabins, lodges and construction behind the village.

  Afraid to lose her, he sacrificed secrecy for speed. Expecting her to take the right turn that would lead into the village and the labyrinth behind it, he almost hit the 'DO NOT ENTER' sign leading the wrong way down the one-way North Rim Drive. Away from the village, with the moonlight blocked by the trees that crowded both sides of the road and his headlights off, Hudson struggled to see the road ahead of him.

  Small flashes of orange, the reflector on the back of her bike catching what little light was offered, kept her within sight. He followed the flashes as they twisted and turned down the drive, hoping it would keep him from hitting the d
itch. He forced himself to stay back, trying to keep from alerting her to his presence, he let the truck cruise as much as possible to let the sound of his engine fade into the white noise from the wind in the trees and the rush of water in the canyon. Even as she left the road and ditched her bike at Brink of the Lower Falls, her intentions eluded him. Unless Gracie had conned someone else into meeting her, or was working her way through the back trail to get to the P-Loop cabins, there would be no victims on the Rim.

  In the small opening that allowed more moonlight, he caught a glimpse of her, running down the path cleared by a search and rescue team earlier in the day. As the darkness between the trees gathered her into to its embrace, he leapt from the truck and gave chase. The sound of her running feet was distorted and deceptive in the darkness this close to the canyon. Afraid to letting her get away, he took the left hand trail and ran for the overlook.

  Water thundered around him as tens of thousands of gallons rushed over the brink. When he heard her feet hit the metal grating of the platform, he knew he was close. Pulling his weapon, training it on her back, he yelled, “Stop!”

  Skidding to a stop, Gracie stood, her body heaving air after the mad dash on the bike and the run down the trail.

  “Get your hands up,” Hudson ordered. “Over your head, now!”

  She opened her hands, palms forward. She shrugged her shoulders, letting her jacket slide free, before she lifted her hands slowly into the air.

  “What are you waiting for?” she sobbed. “Kill me.”

  Confused, he stepped forward. He wanted her in cuffs, wanted her safely tucked away before she got the jump on him the way she had done to Mike. “Get on your knees.”

  “You've taken everything,” she cried. “I can't take any more! Kill me and get it over with! Do what you came here to do!”

  “I didn't come here to kill you,” Hudson said, knowing he was being pulled in to her delusion and unable to stop himself. “I'm taking you in, Gracie.”

  Her head moved back and forth with hitching slowness as if she were trying to fight invisible hands that were attempting to stop her. “You took everything away from me, I won't go back. I can't go back.”

  Before he realized what Gracie was going to do, she surged forward. Instinct took over. He dropped the gun and launched himself at her, frantic to stop her. Her feet hit the chain link fencing, her hands grabbed the top rail and she launched herself over the abyss.

  The railing hit him in the chest, knocking the air out of him, as he grabbed for her, catching her wrists as she let go of the railing over the three hundred foot drop. Screaming, her fall arrested by Hudson's desperate grip, her body slammed into the side of the cliff.

  Fighting him, twisting and kicking, Hudson's grip weakened and he dug his nails into her flesh, determined to keep her from falling to her death. Pulling her up, bracing his knees against the flimsy chain link, he found her bracing back, pulling her wrists out of his grip. Once she was high enough, he let go of her wrist, leaping forward to get a fresh handhold on her hair and clothing, whatever he could grab.

  Dragging her, still fighting, over the railing, he shoved her to the ground. Wrapping his arms around hers to keep her from hitting him, he put his body weight on her, holding her down.

  When her struggles ceased, replaced by heaving sobs, he pulled her up, pressed his face into her hair. Shaking with emotions he didn't understand, he whispered, “I don't know whether to protect you, or throw you over the fence myself.”

  24

  Kristi parked next to her husband's truck and got out. Her pants and sleeves were soaked and muddy. She was freezing, but she stopped long enough to lay her hand on the hood of his truck.

  The paw print decals his friends had plastered over it had always been cute, now she just thought they were tacky. Moose prints, elk prints, bear prints—they were all there. Childish. Just like Corny.

  “Where ya been?” he asked, a smile lighting up his eyes as if he'd done nothing wrong. As if he still loved her the way he used to.

  She tried to smile back at him and wondered if he'd notice how strained it was. Her answer was short as she walked back to the bedroom to change into her sweats. With a voice as monotone and flat as she felt, her greeting was automatic. “Hey, trouble. Flat tire on the way back from Mammoth.”

  “Should'a called me,” he offered. “Probably came back from Lamar Valley just a little before you.”

  Liar. She pulled the vegetables out of the crisper and began fixing his dinner. It took everything she had to keep her trembling hands from taking her anger out on the lettuce.

  Enough was enough. Going after Kari was the final straw. It was time she got past the bastard and moved on with her life. Loving him wasn't the problem, common ground was. She would never be the prim, pretty little lady that Kari was.

  She'd been raised to catch fish, fix fences and play ball. She hadn't realized how truly different they were, how little they had in common, and how far she had let him go until she noticed the way he looked at Kari.

  She forced a smile as he chatted, not really hearing anything he said, but trying to chuckle in all the right places.

  Sure, people would miss him. People who didn't know him as well as she did. Everyone who met him, her closest friends included, thought he was fun, friendly, had a quirky sense of humor but would never hurt a fly. She'd felt the same way. It was the reason she married him.

  Doubt, small and quiet, tickled her conscience. Maybe she should just tell him what she saw. Tell him to get out. Go live with Kari—or whomever else he was screwing. “Get any good pictures?”

  “No,” his eyes skittered away from her and he grabbed the remote. Turning the TV to a documentary about life in the Sahara, he focused on the screen so he wouldn't have to look at her. “Didn't show tonight.”

  Her doubts vanished as quickly as they surfaced. He never went to Lamar Valley, just as she hadn't gone to Mammoth. She pushed his plate of salad closer to the edge of the table.

  Wanting to call him a liar, but too angry to trust herself to speak, she watched him take the first bite, then another. Doubts didn't matter now, nothing mattered. There was no going back.

  “You know,” he said between mouthfuls. “I know everyone gets fed up with tourists after a while, but I'm looking forward to them.”

  “Oh yeah?” she mumbled, watching as he shoved more salad into his cheating face. She sat up straighter and tried to smile. “Why's that?”

  “Every day is different. New faces, new stories. Besides, who else can we convince that a raven is a rare black eagle? Here's a new one,” he turned in his chair, finally looking at her as if nothing had happened. He was just good old Corny again. “The difference between a raven and a crow is that a crow has four pinion feathers, and a raven has five. So the difference between a crow and a raven is just a matter of a pinion. Get it?”

  He turned back to the TV, laughed to himself and took another bite. The forced smile on Kristi's lips faded as she watched him clean his plate. He skewered the last of the root vegetable and raised it up. “These are pretty good, what are they?”

  “Some kind of parsnip, I think,” she answered and reached for his plate to put it in the sink.

  She took her time soaping up the dish and rubbing it clean. With it done, there was no evidence left of the terrible thing she had done. No matter how she looked at it, how she justified it, it was terrible. Terrible and horrible, just like he made her feel while she sat watching them.

  Her best friend, could there be any worse betrayal? She couldn't blame Kari anymore. Kristi knew how she was. She craved love, attention. Needed it. Men like Corny had no problem charming her, making her feel special, loved and cherished. They had no problem soothing her fears, making her feel like she was the medicine they needed, only to take advantage of her, use her and throw her away.

  It hadn't been the first time he'd gone after someone vulnerable, took advantage and then came home pretending all was right with the world. He di
dn't realize Kristi knew. She doubted he would care if he did. No more than when she had found out about his affair at Stephen's Pass last winter, or the pillow puncher he had fooled around with the year after they got married.

  She had overlooked them, each and every one of them. She had buried her head in the sand, accepted that it was her fault, that she just wasn't good enough. But Kari? Her best friend? That was a betrayal she couldn't, she wouldn't turn a blind eye to. She was done being his whipping girl, done cleaning up the mess that was her life every time he got an itch.

  Corny let out a noisy, rumbling belch and rubbed his stomach. “Got any antacid in this boat?” he asked, and then speaking more to himself, “Salad shouldn't sit this heavy.”

  She started to dry the dishes and put them away. “In the bathroom, where it's always been.”

  “Well,” he turned, giving her his best stink eye. “Why don't you make yourself useful and get it for me?”

  Her hand was shaking, the silverware in her hand clanked and rattled. She let the silverware drop into the drawer with a loud clang, “Sorry, not my day to babysit you.”

  He pushed passed her, tremors shaking his hand as he wiped drool from the corner of his mouth. He gave her a shove as he weaved through the narrow passage between the living area and the bathroom on unsteady legs. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  One more wipe down of the counter, and she followed him to the bathroom. The door opened outward, and she braced herself with it, ready to slam it shut if she needed to. “No, just tired of you. Tired of you hurting me. Realized after I saw you with Kari tonight, I really don't need you, or any other man, to make me whole.”

  Before he could answer, a muscle clenched tightly in his back, spasmed. He screamed as his knees buckled and he went down in the small space in front of the toilet. The drool that had been making a slow run took on a green tint and turned frothy. Wiping at it, gagging, he looked up at Kristi. “What have you done, girl? You get on the phone, you get me some help!”