Nothing new was present, the last entry being a simple update about heading out to investigate a potential Bigfoot sighting in the Pacific Northwest.
Is the grief making it impossible to write?
Is he even looking into anything?
Maybe the grief is taking time to sink in.
Maybe he is now overwhelmed by it and can’t work.
Or the entire trip is nothing more than a scheme to meet up with a woman he has been talking with on one of those hookup sites, and he is now spending a weekend in bed with her.
Though the likelihood of this latter thought seemed remote, it still weighed heavy on her mind.
What if he is having an affair?
If so, maybe the two could come back together, their actions nullifying each other's infidelity.
Or we will realize we need to be apart.
Of all the thoughts she had had, this one scared her the most. She didn't want to lose him. Even if he was sleeping with another woman, that was not enough for her to say goodbye. It would hurt, of that there was no doubt, but losing him altogether would hurt more.
Would he feel the same way?
Could he continue to live with me, knowing what I have done?
No answer arrived.
Uncertainty followed.
4
"Do you have a coat?" Cheryl asked as he climbed into the passenger side of her SUV, which carried the scent of coffee from two large Styrofoam cups that were in the cup holders beneath the radio.
"Um…my leather one," Brian said. "Should I bring it?"
"I would. It can get pretty chilly up there, and they're saying some weather might be rolling in around noon. We might finally get rain."
"Ah, okay. Be right back." He headed into the motel room but couldn't find his coat, and then remembered that he hadn't even taken it from the rental vehicle. It was sitting on the front passenger seat where he had tossed it after climbing in yesterday, the sun having spent the early part of the day baking the inside of the car before he picked it up.
Jacket in hand, he headed back toward Cheryl's SUV, eyes catching the teen standing in the doorway of the office, watching them.
He smiled.
She didn't.
He got into the SUV.
Cheryl was watching the teen as well.
"What is it?" Brian asked.
Cheryl shook her head and handed him one of the coffees. "Huh? Oh, nothing, was just thinking about her." She nodded in the direction of the teen and then turned to back up. "Can you imagine running this place all by yourself, knowing it is destined to fail?"
"Running it? What do you mean?"
"She owns the motel. Well, she and her brother do. But she is the only one who manages and runs the place."
Brian was silent for a moment and then said, "I thought she was a high school student watching the front desk for her parents or something during the summer vacation."
"What? No. She's twenty-eight years old."
Brian didn't reply to that, startled by how incorrect his initial thoughts on her had been. He was also frustrated by her not allowing him to use the phone, her ownership of the motel making her refusal completely different than if she had been a simple employee following the owner's policy.
"And for some reason she has decided to stay in town, taking over and running a failing motel, with her brother who…well…let's just say that most people would try to keep as far from him as possible rather than getting closer."
"What's her name?"
"Beverly," she said. "Volt. Beverly Volt."
"And her brother?"
"Brendon."
Brian nodded, mentally noting the two names. "Why do people want to stay away from him?"
"He's just not right in the head. Think Forrest Gump, but evil. Okay, not evil, since that sounds too Hollywood, but…" She struggled for several seconds. "I don't know. He's hard to describe. In high school he often got in trouble for touching girls. He knew it was wrong, except when doing it, if that makes sense. It's like he always had to be reminded not to do something because it was wrong, and then once he did do something that was wrong, and was told afterward that it was wrong, he would be remorseful and apologize, but then the next day do it again because he forgot and no one was there to remind him."
"What do you mean by touching girls?" Brian asked. "Like touching touching them?"
"Yeah, he'd grab breasts. Without warning. At lockers, in hallways, while in class. The worst instance was during junior year. He was sitting behind a girl and right in the middle of class reached around and cupped her breasts."
"Did he get in trouble?"
"Yeah, well, scolded. Someone claimed the girl had flirted with him earlier in the day. Others supported this. They did the old 'she was asking for it' routine and pointed out that she had been wearing a top that was inappropriate due to how tight it was. That, coupled with him apparently not knowing any better, led them to simply deciding that he always needed to sit in the front of the room, but in the corner because of his size. They didn't want him blocking other students’ view of the board."
"Wow," was all Brian could say.
"The most ridiculous part of all, the girl got a detention for screaming in class and hitting him. She spun around in her desk and smacked him."
"You have got to be shitting me!"
"I wish I was."
"I don't even know what to say." It was the honest truth.
"Of course, it isn't unique to this area. Young women are confronted with situations like this all the time. 'I'm sorry you were raped, but if you hadn't been wearing that short skirt…'" She let out a heavy sigh. "Anyway, I got sidetracked, so enough about all that." She took her hand off the wheel for a moment and rubbed her chest with her forearm. It didn't look like a conscious act, and for a moment Brian wondered if maybe she had been the girl who had been grabbed. "Let’s focus on the phone. I spoke to Chief Parker about it. Called him at home since Jeanne was being a bitch. It was pretty late, but that was okay. He told me he actually knew who had dropped it off at my place, has known for quite some time."
"How?" Brian asked.
"Fingerprints." She slowed for a turn at one of the few lights in town. "I figured he had tested it, but I had no idea they had matched up with Marlon Gibbs."
Brian thought about what Beverly had said about how creepy the guy was and asked, "Why are his prints on file?"
"He had an incident with a bear a few years back. Claims it was self-defense, and Chief Parker was going to let it go, but the county got involved since it wasn't actually part of Chief Parker's jurisdiction. Charges were eventually dropped, but not before he was printed and whatnot."
"Was it self-defense?" Brian asked.
She shrugged. "We'll never know."
The light changed to green.
Cheryl turned left and started down a road that was quickly engulfed by trees. It was like a tunnel, one that was unbroken and didn't have any exit routes.
He sipped his coffee, the brew strong.
"There's sugar in the bag in back if you need it. And cream."
Brian reached back and took a few packets of sugar. "So, does this take us all the way up the mountain?" he asked while carefully removing the lid and pouring the sugar in, cup balanced between his legs.
"Not all the way, for that you'd have to get out hiking boots and some climbing gear, but it will get us to where we need to go."
"And then what? We ask this Marlon Gibbs where he found the phone and he takes us to the location?"
"Hopefully."
Brian considered the answer and wondered if Chief Parker had asked him about the phone and where he had found it. Such a step seemed like it would be necessary given that it belonged to a college girl who had gone missing, yet if he had and if Marlon Gibbs had told him where he had found it, then it seemed that the chief would have relayed the information to Cheryl. Or told her he knew where it was but couldn't tell her because it was part of an investigation.
"Does this Marlon Gibbs drive?" he asked.
"No."
"And it's going to take us an hour to get up to him?"
"Yeah, roughly."
"Then how in the world did he get the phone to you?"
"He walks."
Brian stared at her for several seconds and then, when she failed to elaborate upon that, said, "That doesn't seem practical, especially if it takes us an hour by vehicle to get to him."
"Yeah, but we have to stay on the road, which winds back and forth as we go up the mountain. He can just walk through the woods. It's only like a mile or two for him, though the journey would not be recommended for someone who was unfamiliar with the land. Easy to get lost and lots of areas to break a leg."
"Oh." Embarrassment about not having considered this set in.
Cheryl went quiet.
"You ever get lost up here?" Brian asked.
"Yeah, once."
He waited for more, but she didn't elaborate.
He didn't push for more.
She sipped her coffee.
He did the same with his.
5
Alice booked the flight, an odd mixture of optimism and regret arriving as the electronic purchase went through.
It’ll save the marriage!
He'll be pissed!
It’ll prove your love for him!
I just added over a thousand dollars to a credit card we've been trying to pay off.
On and on it went, until finally she told her mind to knock it off. What's done is done!
The command worked for a while, until she stopped making a point of enforcing it, which was when the optimism and regret mixture returned.
You need to pack, she ordered as a way to distract herself from her own thoughts. And find a way to the airport.
6
"Where is it?" Brian asked as Cheryl brought the vehicle to a halt at the end of the dirt road, one that he had initially thought was a driveway when they turned off of the paved road.
"About ten minutes down that path," Cheryl said and pointed.
Brian didn't see a path, only trees. Then again, his idea of a path was based on the trails he had walked in the various Chicago-area forest preserves. Up here, in the real wilderness, it seemed the definition was a bit different.
Cheryl led the way.
Once inside the trees, Brian could more easily see the path, though he never would have wanted to try following it without someone like Cheryl leading the way. Even with her guiding them, he wasn't so sure that this was a good idea, not after what Beverly had said. Cheryl had countered many of the girl's claims as they drove, but her assurances that Marlon was harmless hadn't dislodged his concerns.
And then she stopped, a hand held up.
"What is it?" he asked, voice nearly a whisper.
She didn't reply.
He waited.
Several seconds passed and then, without any explanation for why they had stopped, she started walking again.
Brian was at a loss and stayed where he was.
Cheryl stopped.
"What was it?" he asked, thoughts on Marlon Gibbs's run-in with a bear entering into his mind. "Why did we stop?"
"I thought I heard something," Cheryl said.
"Heard what?"
"It was nothing, just a sound." She waved a hand. "Come on, we're almost there."
Brian followed, a new thought appearing: Is she nervous?
She seemed to be, but he didn't know her well enough yet to be certain of it. With Alice he would have been, but she obviously wasn't there.
Thoughts on Alice and what she was doing that morning crowded in.
He tried pushing them away, but it was no use.
And then he slipped, his right knee and his hands breaking his fall.
"You okay?" Cheryl asked, coming to his side, hand offered.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, brushing off the crud from the forest floor. He then turned his eyes toward what had caused his fall, the smooth surface of a partially buried rock catching his attention, one that likely had been covered in the rotting leaves when his foot came down on it, leaves that slid along its surface with the pressure of his step.
"We're almost there, but it will be getting fairly treacherous, so watch your step."
"Okay."
They continued toward the house, Brian's eyes staying on the path, his focus so great that he nearly bumped into Cheryl when she stopped.
"What is—" he started, but then saw what could only be described as a log cabin standing before them, the area around it cleared of underbrush, the trees cut back enough to allow sunlight to fall upon the land encircling the structure.
"Wait here," she instructed and started to approach.
Brian did not argue.
"Mr. Gibbs!" Cheryl called once she was halfway across the yard, in plain sight of anyone who would be watching from the windows. "It's Cheryl Gaffney."
No response.
She took a few more steps toward the single-story structure, hands at her side, palms open. "Marlon?"
Nothing.
Brian started to feel a chill.
Something wasn't right. He had no reason to think this given that he was unfamiliar with this home and the standard practices one could expect from the man who lived within, but even so, he knew it was so.
Cheryl seemed to think it as well, her steps becoming more and more cautious as she finished her approach.
"Mr. Gibbs," she called again while knocking on the door.
Still nothing.
She turned toward Brian and shrugged.
Brian started toward her, a question about to leave his lips when a scream echoed from the trees to their right, followed by several gunshots.
7
Beyond Jared, Alice didn't really have any friends—at least none who she would consider calling for a ride to the airport. Therefore, she was forced to contact one of those airport cab companies that specialized in flat rates from the suburbs to O'Hare. Once that was set, she had nothing to do but pack and pace, her mind still a complete mess. Doubt was the main culprit, second was fear, both of which mixed together in such a way as to make any attempt at productivity impossible.
Why are you doing this? she asked herself while sitting in a chair, the doubt-fear mixture having forced her to the nearest seat. Do I think he's going to be like some dim-witted romance movie character who’ll see the journey to him as some “love-proving” feat that will instantly fix all our marriage woes?
Happily ever after…
She clutched her stomach and shook her head, anger toward Hollywood for making it seem so easy plaguing her mind.
You should just stay here and wait for him.
Too late.
Had she not bought the plane tickets, waiting would be possible, but the only thing worse than putting all that money on their credit card was putting all that money on their credit card for nothing. If she stayed home…
No.
You can't.
You're locked in now.
Regret filled her mind, momentarily pushing all other emotions away.
Her phone buzzed.
Brian?
Her hope that it was her husband disappeared as she saw the name and number.
Jared.
Fuck!
She didn't want to talk to him, not when she knew nothing good would come from it. She also didn't want to look at the message he had sent, but she knew resisting was futile and thumbed it open.
HE HASN'T UPDATED ANYTHING ON HIS SITE. ARE YOU SURE HE REALLY IS LOOKING FOR BIGFOOT?
Nothing else followed, not that anything else needed to follow for the implication to be known, one that matched her earlier concerns.
FUCK OFF! she typed in reply but then hesitated before hitting send.
Just ignore him.
Don't let him know he's getting to you.
Though the advice was good, she couldn't abide by it and pressed send.
>
Her phone buzzed.
I WILL BE BUT NOT WITH YOU.
She shook her head.
Another message arrived.
AND I BET YOUR HUSBAND IS FUCKING SOMEONE.
How in the world did I ever fall for you? she asked herself. Twice?
Just thinking about it made her sick.
Another message arrived, this one containing a picture of her.
LOOK WHAT I FOUND! :)
Alice stared at the picture for a long time, her mind unable to process anything beyond the outrage she now felt—both at herself for letting him take pictures, and at him for the implication he was making by sending it to her.
So what!
Brian already knows.
What if Jared isn’t planning to send them to Brian?
What if he has other plans for it?
Or is this it?
The more she thought about it, the more she remembered that Jared was the type who often threatened but rarely followed through. He was a coward, one who thrived on the power he could wield from his little taunts.
And he loves seeing your reactions, so don't reply!
But what if a lack of reply makes him do something worse, something that he knows will get my attention?
He won't.
Concern still followed, as did the anger and violation she currently felt, but she did her best not to let it overwhelm her.
She also blocked him, knowing that doing so was the only way to truly keep herself from looking at and replying to the messages he sent.
Is that what Brian did?
Did he block you?
She thought about the messages she had sent while he was at the airport, noting that he was just like her when it came to being unable to ignore something. In fact, he was almost worse, his need to respond to messages when they arrived so strong that he would sometimes pull over while on the road simply so he could type up a reply.
Or have you do it.
Back when we were driving to that haunted hotel.
Memories of going with him during an investigation early on in their relationship filled her mind, the thrill and terror of those moments always causing an interesting endorphin rush, one that often led them to being physical with each other.
Crystal Creek Page 4
