Shadow Falls

by Wendy Dranfield

She turns the faucet off and rests her hands on the sink. No. He couldn’t have. Anna said she never visited the camp. It was Grant who dropped Jenny off, and then it was Grant who came back to abduct her. Unless… Maybe Anna was in the car and didn’t get out. Could she really have been present when Grant killed Jenny?

  She realizes that all three of them have taken the word of someone who plotted with her husband to kill her own daughter. It was Anna who told them Grant had dealt with Jennifer. She thinks about the scars again. They weren’t quite healed; they could easily have been made within the last month. And they look similar to the injury from Brody’s attack on her other arm. Which would mean Anna did go to the camp at some point. But why would Brody have reacted to her?

  She looks up at her reflection. Brody didn’t just recognize Anna; he attacked her. They’ve not witnessed him do that to anyone else at the camp.

  She suddenly realizes what it means. “It was her. Shit. It was her all along.”

  The nurse comes out of the stall to wash her hands. She looks at Madison in the mirror.

  Madison is desperately trying to figure it out. “Brody was there that night. He tried to save Jenny from her mother!”

  She realizes she’s left Anna alone.

  She ignores the nurse’s questioning stare and dashes for the door. As she skids around the hospital corridors, trying to get back to Anna’s room, she almost knocks a patient over.

  “Sorry! Police business!”

  When she gets there, the lights are off. She hopes that’s just because a nurse has checked in on Anna and switched them off on the way out. She flips them on and glances at the bed. It’s empty. She looks in the bathroom, but that’s empty too. A quick glance at the spare armchair tells her Anna’s belongings have gone.

  “Shit!”

  She thinks about Detective Morgan. He was pretty stressed when Anna was relaying what happened. Could he really be in on it?

  Yes. Because he would be more likely to protect Anna than her husband.

  Madison pulls out her cell phone and calls Nate. It goes straight to answerphone, which means they’re so far into the woods there’s limited service.

  “Dammit!”

  She sends him a text.

  Brody had already attacked Anna earlier. She killed the girl. She’s fled the hospital. Ted must be in on it. BE CAREFUL!

  She hits send and prays Nate finds a signal in the forest before it’s too late.

  She runs through the hospital corridors. Anna couldn’t have got far in her condition. But she’s nowhere to be seen on this floor. She heads to the elevator, but it’s too slow to arrive, so she swings open the stairwell doors and runs down the first flight. As she rounds the corner, she spots Anna—too late. She’s holding a knife and lunges toward her.

  Madison screams as the knife goes through her shoulder. The pain is sharp and intense. She loses her footing and slides down the stairs as blood rushes from the wound. She manages to push Anna against the wall as she passes, trying to stop her from running.

  Anna falls onto her ass with a thud. Her expression changes from desperation to pain. She grabs her stomach and screams.

  Madison’s going dizzy. She can’t get up; all she can do is watch as Anna panics.

  “The baby’s coming!”

  Madison moves to help her, but blacks out at the foot of the stairs.

  eighty-four

  The office of Dr. Pamela Jarvis

  Pamela hesitantly starts to read the last entry in Anna Lucas’s journal, knowing this will be the final nail in her own coffin, career-wise at least.

  I can’t believe it’s over. We reached a peak in this hell we were living and the only thing we could do was to kill Jennifer. Even Grant could see there was no other way out, but he was hesitant. Said he couldn’t go through with it. Even after everything Jennifer had done, I think he still loved her, so he was conflicted.

  When I found a summer camp near Ted, I knew it was a sign. He would be able to help us. He would be able to limit the investigation into her disappearance. I knew without a doubt that he would have my back.

  Jennifer did not want to go away. I can’t tell if she knew what we were planning, but sometimes she was like a mind-reader. She only agreed to go in the end because Grant said he would travel up there to collect her if she wanted to leave early. She trusted him and that’s what Grant is struggling with now. On those days I remind him what Jennifer did to our children and I pull out their baby photos. It gives him renewed confidence in our decision.

  Once Jennifer was at camp, our lives became lighter. I was able to relax for the first time in three years. I could read a book without waiting for something to hit me over the head. Grant and I even went out to dinner like a normal married couple. But on the day he was due to drive up there, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even get out of bed. His mind shut his body down. He was weak when I needed him to be strong.

  Desperate that she would end up coming home, I drove up there myself in a rental car I’d booked in a fake name online. I played loud music for the whole journey to block out my doubts and I only stopped for one break.

  I didn’t drive all the way up the long entrance to the camp; I stopped about three quarters of the way up so that no one would see me. I held a photo of my children as I approached the camp, and when I spotted some girls by the lake, I hid behind a tree. I could just make out Jennifer’s thin, delicate frame in the fading light. The other girls had been teasing her, I could tell from her posture. Her hands were clenched like she was about to hit one of them. Then they ran off, leaving her alone.

  The sun had almost disappeared, but I looked at the photo of my children and kissed them both. “This is for you.”

  I ran toward Jennifer and she seemed shocked to see me. “Daddy’s here,” I said. “We’ve come to take you home because he misses you so much.”

  She looked uncertain. “Where’s the car?”

  “Just down there.” I pointed to my rental car, which was just visible in the dark, a way off. “Don’t bother getting your things from the cabin; we’ll have them sent home. We’re going to stop for takeout on the way.”

  I could tell she was wondering why I was being nice, because by this point our relationship was non-existent, so I added, “I’d rather leave you here, but for some reason your dad misses you.”

  The look on her face—genuine love for her father—will never leave me. I almost backed out then. I suddenly realized she was just a child. Yes, she’d acted abhorrently, but deep down she had a child’s emotions. She just wanted to be loved, and she was loved, by Grant. I had wanted to love her, I’d been open to it at the beginning, but she’d killed my babies. That’s what made me go on: the crumpled photo in my hand. I had to be strong for them and the new baby.

  “We have to be quick, otherwise someone will try to stop us,” I said.

  She picked up her things, slid her backpack on and started running to the car. I got there first, on shaky legs, and opened the back door for her. She jumped in without looking. When she realized Grant wasn’t in the car, she looked up at me with confusion in her eyes. “Where’s Daddy?”

  I leaned in and wrapped rope around her, strapping her arms to her torso and her backpack to her back. I didn’t have time to remove it first, I had to move fast. She kicked out at me, only just missing the baby, so I pushed her backwards in anger and she hit her head hard against the door. She stopped struggling, so I tied her legs together while she was passed out and closed the door on her. I ran around to the front of the car, but there was a large dog that had appeared from nowhere. He was growling at me. I tried slowly easing past him, but he lunged at me and grabbed my arm with his teeth. His mouth was like a vice and the pain was sharp. I couldn’t risk being found, so I suppressed my screams and thumped him across the head until he let go. He looked stunned, but I could tell he was getting ready to lunge at me again. I managed to scramble into the car and shut the door, activating the child locks. I looked over at Jennifer; sh
e was lying across the back seat, groaning quietly.

  As I pulled away, the dog chased the car for over a mile. When he finally stopped, Jennifer said something I didn’t quite catch. It made me freeze. “What?” I whispered.

  “I didn’t mean it,” she said in a weak voice.

  I didn’t know if she was talking about killing my children, but it was such a typical response from a child that guilt consumed me. I pulled over, considering whether to back out.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She turned her head to look at me. She had tears in her eyes. “I only pretended to hurt them. Thomas fell in and Susie tried to save him. They called for you, but you didn’t come. I …” She started coughing. “I pretended I did it because you don’t like me.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I leaned in close.

  “But the padlock was in your closet,” I whispered.

  “I pretended.” She started crying, but not the crocodile tears she used in front of Grant. “I didn’t mean it, Mommy. If you let me go home, I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Not wanting to believe her—convinced it was her final trick to torture me—I remained resolute and started the engine.

  When we got deep into the forest, I cut the rope binding her legs and made her walk in front of me. By the time I found somewhere to bury her, I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stab a child. But I had to kill her. It was the only way my baby would be safe. So I pushed her off the waterfall and watched as she fell from a height into the rocky water. Even the biggest flashlight I could buy barely cut through the darkness of the night in the forest. I didn’t see her emerge. She must have drowned quickly, either because her head hit a rock or because the rope around her arms prevented her from swimming to safety.

  I knew no one would find her in there and assumed the wild animals would eat her remains if she washed up on the bank.

  I can’t believe I’m writing this.

  I can’t believe I’ve done this.

  I’ll never know if she was telling the truth and I’m more of a monster than I already thought.

  I used the rental car to get back to a main road, then I drove north, eventually leaving the car in a covered ditch where it would be difficult for anyone to find because of the ground cover. I walked to the nearest gas station and phoned Ted, only telling him where I was and that I needed a ride.

  Ted was pleased to see me, but he had a lot of questions. I told him everything; from the first time Jennifer showed her true colors to finding the padlock in her room. I didn’t tell him about her final confession. He wouldn’t help me if he took her word over mine. It all poured out of me and he placed me under arrest as soon as I’d finished. I’d kissed him and told him he was a good person, and how I felt that if I’d married him instead of Grant, none of this would ever have happened.

  It took hours of talking, but eventually he agreed to drive me home and said he’d call me later with his decision. I knew he’d agree to cover up for me. It made me feel horrible, but after killing a twelve-year-old girl, there really wasn’t much emotion left in me. I was exhausted, but my baby kicked a lot that night, trying to reassure me.

  Grant and I never spoke about what had happened. He never asked any questions and I was glad. Ted didn’t get in touch. I didn’t hear from him until he turned up to give us the news that Jennifer had disappeared from the camp. I knew then that he had decided to protect me.

  Even though we had visits from Ted and his team, and then the investigators, Grant reacted as if we knew nothing. I was surprised at his ability to pretend we weren’t involved. I think he’d managed to convince himself we weren’t. I never considered telling him about the look on Jennifer’s face when she thought her father had come to rescue her from camp. Or that she might not have killed the children; that it could have been an accident after all. I knew that would break him, so I bore the brunt of that by myself. I’ve suffered. I must have looked like a grieving mother to most people. Unfortunately, I had learned that role well after the deaths of Susie and Thomas.

  I’m not proud of what I’ve done and I think of Jennifer often—how could I not?—but could I really stand by and let her take a third child from me? I would only have found out whether or not she was telling the truth by letting her live alongside my new baby. That would have been a risk too far.

  My therapist was right about one thing: keeping this journal was cathartic. It helped me to think things through logically. It helped me voice the feelings and thoughts I was having. I know I’ll need to burn it eventually. For now, I need to keep it, so I never forget how it felt to live with Jennifer. How it felt to discover she killed our babies. Because if I ever forget that, I won’t be able to live with what I did to her.

  After Pamela closes the journal, it takes her a good five minutes to stop crying. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get over the guilt of ignoring Anna’s pleas about Jennifer. Both Anna and Jennifer were let down: by Pamela herself, by child services, by Jennie’s real mother.

  Her office door opens and the lieutenant she has only spoken to over the phone pops his head in. “Hi, Dr. Jarvis. Lieutenant Davis. Finished yet?”

  She nods her head and wipes her eyes with her hands.

  “Anything incriminating in there?” he asks.

  She pours herself a triple shot of bourbon, downs it and turns back to face him. “Unfortunately, yes.’

  Eighty-Five

  Nate follows Morgan as they make their way through the forest toward the only waterfall he found on Google Maps that’s anywhere near Camp Fearless.

  The sun is setting fast behind the huge redwood trees. Nate can feel the temperature dropping too. It’s eerily quiet out here, with none of the birdsong they get at the camp. It’s as if all the woodland creatures have bedded down for the evening. Either that or they’re hiding from those monsters in the woods the kids were talking about.

  They each have a flashlight, and Brody’s running ahead of them—nose down, tail high—with no sign of tiring. Nate’s legs and back are starting to ache. Since prison, he’s not used to hiking in this kind of terrain, but it’s satisfying to hear Morgan struggling to catch his breath too.

  “I thought cops were supposed to be fit,” he shouts over his shoulder as he overtakes the detective.

  Morgan doesn’t reply. He suddenly stops. “You hear that?”

  Nate stops to listen. It’s the sound of running water. They could be near the waterfall Anna mentioned.

  It spurs them on. Nate walks faster, following Brody. They come to a dense area of trees where the sun can’t reach. It’s much cooler and darker under here. As they come out the other side, into a clearing, Brody starts barking loudly.

  Nate stops and glances back at Morgan, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. “This could be it. Are you ready?”

  The detective nods.

  Nate walks into the clearing and toward the waterfall. Visibility is poor, as the sun has completely disappeared behind the trees now. Brody is sitting next to a stack of large rocks. He’s fully alert, looking over his shoulder at Nate. Nate’s heart sinks as he realizes that the dog has found something and is now waiting for his reward. He made sure to bring the squeezy ball from the grocery store for this exact reason. As he approaches the rocks, his legs slow down. He doesn’t want to see what Brody’s found. He doesn’t want to believe Anna’s story because it’s so disturbing.

  He catches up to the dog and has to cover his nose and mouth with his arm.

  Morgan turns away and dry-heaves.

  Nate forces himself to look down at the ground. It’s Grant Lucas. “He’s dead. Looks like a self-inflicted gunshot wound.” There are flies buzzing around Grant’s head, laying their eggs in his flesh. Nate leans down to find the gun. He can just see the barrel sticking out from under Grant’s chest. He must have shot himself whilst kneeling and then fallen forwards.

  “Jesus,” says Morgan, clearly shocked.

  So Anna wa
s telling the truth. Grant must have come back to see Jenny. He must have felt remorse.

  Nate notices something to the right of Grant. It’s a red sweater.

  “That’s what they said Jenny was wearing when she disappeared,” says Morgan.

  “You mean when your friend,” Nate points to Grant, “abducted her.” He can’t resist the dig. He’s not letting Morgan off the hook. He was friends with these people.

  Brody comes over to him, pawing at his jeans and completely unaware of the implications of his find. It’s safe to assume Jenny’s remains are out here somewhere too. Nate pulls the ball from his pocket and the dog’s eyes light up. He hasn’t seen this one before. He sits back and barks excitedly. Nate smiles weakly and suddenly feels grateful to have him here. He throws the ball as far as he can, and Brody runs for it.

  Nate shines his flashlight around Grant’s body and spots a cell phone. He picks it up just as Morgan tries to grab it.

  “Give that to me; it’s evidence.”

  Nate holds it to his chest. “You can have it after I’ve had a look.”

  He turns it on and waits for a PIN request, but there isn’t one. It opens to a video. “He can’t have been dead long,” he says. “There’s still life in the battery.”

  Morgan tries to grab it again, so Nate calls Brody over. The dog notices instantly that the mood has changed. He sits between the two men, staring at the detective, but doesn’t drop the ball from his mouth. He earned it so he obviously intends to keep it.

  From Morgan’s reaction, Nate is certain he’s more involved in all this than he admitted. It doesn’t surprise him. After all, Morgan’s a cop. But it means he and Brody could be in danger.

  He holds the phone up so they can both see it, and then hits play on the video. Grant Lucas’s face appears. He doesn’t look at all well.

  Eighty-Six