by Anne B. Cole
A waitress in jeans and a ‘Deer Run Diner’ tee shirt brought her tea and five minutes later, a Styrofoam container filled with scrambled eggs and bacon. She nibbled on a piece of bacon and dialed the number.
A cell phone rang in the booth next to hers.
She scanned the seat, occupied by an elderly couple. The neatly dressed man, eating biscuits and gravy, answered the phone. His voice sounded in both of her ears. Not wanting to reveal herself, Gretta lowered her voice and inquired about the position.
“I’m looking for someone to house sit while my wife and I travel.” His voice on the phone was delayed, so she heard his request twice.
“I’m available all summer and would like to meet you,” Gretta replied.
“Would this afternoon work? We’d like to make a decision this weekend.”
“How about right now?” Gretta leaned out of her booth. She wiggled her fingers in a tentative wave.
A grin spread across his face, reminiscent of Henry.
Henry?
She immediately flipped the flyer and jotted ‘Henry left me on shore.’
“Please, join us.” He offered his seat to Gretta and slid into the booth beside his companion. “I’m Reverend Glenn Wiesensleuski and this is my wife, Margaret.”
“Gretta Dobbs. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Reverend Wies—lu—sasan—ski.” She winced as she mangled the last name.
Margaret smiled warmly at the mispronunciation and patted her husband’s hand. “The locals call him Reverend Glenn. I get called Mrs. Glenn, Mrs. Wiesensleuski, and sometimes, The Reverend’s Wife. Please, call me Margaret.”
Gretta noticed the size difference in the couples’ hands. Margaret’s tiny frame and friendliness reminded her of her grandmother.
“For the past three summers we have traveled to the Ukraine to help at the mission. Friends checked in on the cabin during the previous summers, but this year we will be gone for ten weeks and would like to have someone live there and house sit.” A crinkle formed in Margaret’s forehead.
“Where are you from, Gretta?” Reverend Glenn asked.
Gretta hesitated, uncomfortable with lying to a man of the cloth.
“Farmington, Virginia. I intended on taking a camp counselor position in West Virginia for the summer, but it fell through.” She hoped the half lie would hold and that they didn’t pick up on the fact she had no idea what town or state they resided in. She remembered Sam saying she was a terrible liar. The memory became so vivid, she jotted it on the paper.
Mrs. Glenn touched Gretta’s hand, stopping her pen. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen. I graduated from high school and will be attending college in the fall. I can get you references, if you’d like.” She pulled out her driver’s license as evidence, thinking she would need to start applying to colleges to prove she wasn’t a compulsive liar.
Reverend Glenn’s wide smile revealed his instant liking of her, even though his wife appeared hesitant. “You’re hired.”
“But I thought we wanted a young man?” Margaret leaned closer to the Reverend and continued in a softer voice, “She would be alone all summer.”
“I’ll be fine. I have a couple courses I need to prepare for before college. This is a perfect opportunity for me.” Gretta hoped she didn’t sound like she was begging. She watched Reverend Glenn squeeze his wife’s hand. Although concern remained etched on Margaret’s face, she smiled in consent.
They agreed to terms and shook hands. Gretta followed Reverend Glenn’s car along a long winding road up a wooded mountain to a beautiful one-and-a-half story cabin. It nestled in a grove of towering hemlocks. She instantly fell in love with the area and its seclusion in the gated community.
“We acquired the cabin a few years ago when its owner passed away. He deeded the home and the surrounding two acres to our church to be used as a parsonage. The remaining property went to his son, who divided it into lots. The son lives in Norfolk so he hired a local company to oversee the sale of the properties,” Reverend Glenn explained as they stepped through the screened-in porch and unlocked the front door.
“You’re welcome to stay tonight, Gretta,” Margaret offered. “We will be leaving early in the morning to catch our flight to Italy. We are vacationing the first week and will be able to be contacted by cell phone. Once we arrive in the Ukraine, our only access to the outside world would be via email.”
“Thanks so much, Mrs. Glenn.” Her tension melted away and Gretta settled into her new, temporary home.
Armed with the security system code and a long list of church members’ names and numbers, Gretta began her summer job the next day.
Ten weeks of solitude. No television and no internet access unless she drove to the nearest library. An uneasiness crept into her at the magnitude of her isolation.
“Glad to have you here to keep me company,” Gretta stated. Eyeing her with little interest, her cat sauntered to the window and peered outside.
The Glenns had left a cell phone since there was no direct line. “I wonder if they have better reception than I do,” she muttered aloud as she grabbed the phone and walked from room to room watching for reception bars to appear on the screen. When she stepped onto the porch she noticed it had the same weak reception as her own phone.
The cat followed her. “Listen carefully, Kitty. If the cabin catches fire, call 911 from the porch.” The cat tilted its head in acknowledgement. Gretta scratched it behind its ears. “Glad the Glenns agreed to allow you to be with me this summer. Stay inside while I go exploring.”
She laced her purple sneakers and ran down the gravel drive. Within minutes she reached the gates that allowed residents in and kept outsiders out. Invigorated by the run, she continued along the state route which she had driven on so aimlessly two days prior. Thrilled she had fallen into the perfect summer job, her sneakers pounded the pavement for several miles.
Killer
A key slid into the cabin door. The alarm system sounded. Large fingers punched the code. A light had been left on.
Strange. The pastor’s wife has always been particular about little things like lights.
He walked through the living room to the kitchen counter where a jar of peanut butter sat abandoned, its lid off. Whipping around, he scanned the first floor. A laptop and tote bag rested on the desk.
Heavy work boots stomped to the loft where he found a duffel bag on the bed in the guest room. Fury burned through his veins.
Who dares to invade my summer home?
Chapter 14
Deer and Birds
Gretta
“Follow me.” Mr. Francis lifted a latch on the gate of a rusty, barbed wire fence.
Gretta entered a huge rolling pasture and waited for him to secure the field. Lush green grasses with outcroppings of granite boulders covered the lower side of the mountain.
“This is my land, although I rent it to a neighbor who keeps cattle here in the spring and fall. During the summer, they graze in the valley below.” He pointed in the direction they had hiked.
Gretta followed her new friend across the hillside. A hawk screeched in the distance as two smaller birds nipped at its tail feathers.
A hawk and two black birds.
The déjà vu she had been experiencing returned.
I know I watched a hawk and two black birds on this exact hillside. But I’ve never been here before.
“I must be insane,” she muttered and focused on an outcropping of granite boulders.
“Brave little black birds. They will be protective no matter what they’re up against.” He stopped walking and stared as the birds flew closer.
Gretta smiled at the old man’s words. Something he said sparked a memory of Sam sitting with her on those rocks. She crossed her fingers to remember the thought as they stood at th
e lower edge of the open pasture. The grassy field extended to the base of a tree-covered mountain ridge.
“Look over there.” Mr. Francis’s rich voice caught Gretta’s attention. He faced a second group of granite boulders about a hundred yards into the field. Three deer had bedded in the shade. “I’ve never seen an albino doe around here.” He appeared intrigued with the white deer that nestled between two larger, russet colored doe.
“I’ve seen many deer, but not white ones.” Gretta gazed at them, shading her eyes from the sun. One pricked her ears and sniffed the air. The other deer snorted, staring back as if on guard of the white deer that appeared to be asleep.
“I think I see black spots on its face, but for the most part it’s all white. Albinos are naturally smaller than the average deer. Don’t worry about wild animals on the mountain. I’ve hiked it many times and never saw anything except deer and ground critters. Of course, there may be a snake or the occasional black bear. Those will leave you alone if you don’t bother them. You don’t appear to me as the type that’s afraid of much.” Mr. Francis glanced her way with a grin.
Gretta enjoyed his company, but she needed to get back to the isolated cabin where she wouldn’t put anyone else in danger. Her heart skipped a beat.
Mr. Francis could be in danger. The urge to distance herself from the helpful man grew rapidly.
“Thank you for the lemonade and for showing me this shortcut to the cabin. I can’t believe I lost my way jogging. I better head back.” She estimated another half mile to the top of the ridge.
“Keep the cell tower in front of you as you climb to the ridge. Once you get to the top, follow the road down to the cabin.” He pointed the way.
“Thanks, Mr. Francis.”
“Take care, Gretta. Nice meeting you.” He waved, and descended the hillside to his little farmhouse in the valley.
Gretta headed uphill, noting the boulders where the deer rested. Memories flooded her mind.
Sam kissed me on the grass in front of those rocks.
She touched her lips. It hardly seemed possible, but she believed Sam had been helping her for a long time. He loved her, wanted to protect her.
No. If he is near me he could get hurt or die.
Trudging up the hillside, she tried to believe she had fantasized a relationship with Sam because he had saved her life. Her thoughts kept circling back to the fact his recent texts had dismissed this rationalization.
Sam remembers strange things too. Something happened to us after the tree fell, and it’s connected to my ring.
Continuing the climb, she scolded herself for running so far from the cabin and losing track of time. Mr. Francis told her she must have run about seven miles before reaching his house. They walked at least a mile uphill from his home with another half mile to get to the crest of the mountain. According to Mr. Francis, from the cell tower at the peak, she’d need to walk a half mile more to the cabin. Looking at her watch, she picked up the pace.
The grassy field filled with low brush as she approached the woods. Gazing back at the pasture below, she noticed two of the three deer were gone. The albino stood beside the boulders gazing at her. She stared back. The need to hurry filled her. The sun hung low on the horizon, but an edgy feeling grew within her, more than being afraid of the dark.
Keeping the blinking cell tower at the top of the mountain in front of her, she scrambled through the prickly brush. Once inside the woods she started talking to herself. “Avoid rocky sections where small critters can hide. The last thing I want to do is startle a skunk. Or a bear. Or a snake. Hear me, critters? I’m coming through.” She climbed higher and faster until she reached the summit.
Skirting the fenced in area around the cell tower, she found a paved road leading to a lookout point. The sun disappeared behind the horizon of a distant mountain ridge, immersing the area in an eerie glow. The view beckoned her.
As she approached the protective split rail fence, the entire valley stretched below. Tiny houses, trees, and roads lay out before her as far as she could see. A gentle breeze blew across her face.
“Sam stood here with me. We watched a blue pickup truck winding along the road in the valley.” An owl hooted and brought her back to reality. Darkness approached. “Crazy or not, I need to get back to the cabin.”
Running on the road proved easy compared to the previous climbing. Within minutes, she recognized the roof of the cabin she now called home. She paused at the white picket fence gating the side yard. Paint chips peeled off as she leaned against it. She removed the door key that remained tied on her shoelace. With the key in hand, she jogged to the cabin.
The outside flood light clicked on. She froze, blinded by the brilliant light. Her heart pounded faster in her chest. “It must be on a motion sensor. Nothing to worry about.” The snap of a twig sounded behind her, but she didn’t look back. “Luda told me not to look back.” Crossing her fingers to remember her last thought, she pushed the key in the lock and let herself in.
The cat bolted between her legs and ran outside.
Killer
What is she doing here? He shoved a key into his jeans pocket. Anger filled him. No one is supposed to live here during the summer. She has no right to what is mine, and this cabin is mine.
Ah, you’re alone. I know exactly what to do. A third victim. Preparations must be made. Never had he regretted his previous actions. He found himself instantly thrilled to have such easy access to another victim. The misfits that called themselves law enforcement have no clue.
The cabin door suddenly opened, and the girl walked outside a few steps before calling for the cat.
Frustration built. I’ll need to use the back entrance this summer, at least until I eliminate her.
The cat ran up the path and into the house.
He boldly stepped from behind the overgrown shrubs when the door clicked shut. Hearing the deadbolt slide, he smiled, savoring the possibilities.
Chapter 15
The Triad
Sam
After forty-eight hours and several different antibiotics, Sam’s fever subsided. Shocked at the news of Gretta’s sudden departure, he demanded his phone and pressed the number for her cell. Instantly the call went to voicemail. He tapped into his text messages, finding one from her. With fumbling fingers, he opened it.
‘Not safe. Please hate me.’
“Damn it, Gretta.” Quickly he typed back, ‘I remember things too.’
No response. No calls. No texts.
As Sam flipped through old texts, the phone vibrated, indicating an incoming call.
“Gretta?”
“Uh, last I checked I’m still a dude despite the gown I’m presently wearing,” Tony groaned. “Still no word from Purple Shorts?”
“No, sorry. How are you doing?” Sam inquired, unwilling to bother Tony with his problems.
“Day seven. I’m alive with my woman at my side.” Tony paused. “My fiancé is currently pumping me with happy juice. Come here, beautiful.”
“Hand me the phone, babe. The pain meds are kicking in.” Bonnie’s voice sounded in the background.
“Purple Shorts could be in an area without cell service,” Tony suggested. “I’ll help you look for her tomorrow.”
“You’re staying in bed tomorrow—” Bonnie commanded.
“Only if you join me,” Tony purred.
Sam heard the rustling of sheets and a giggle before Bonnie’s voice sounded in his ear.
“Hey, Sam. Tony’s almost asleep. You had us scared to death. How are you feeling?”
“Better. I should be released tomorrow.” Before he could continue, Bonnie cut him off.
“You can’t visit us after having that infection. It’s too dangerous. Tony will be here for at least another week or two. Where do yo
u think Gretta is? She hasn’t returned my texts.” Bonnie continued without pause. “I’m worried about her, Sam. I’m concerned about you, too. Although, she just lost her dad, so maybe she needs some time away . . . Sam? Sam? Are you there?”
“I’m here, B.” Tony’s muffled voice growled. “We’ll find Purple Shorts in the morning.”
“Gotta go, Sam. Text me if you hear from Gretta. I’m sure she’s okay.” Bonnie hung up.
“I’m sure she isn’t,” Sam replied to himself.
Alone, he studied Gretta’s single text from Friday morning. “She sent it at three twenty-three in the morning.” He pressed a fist to his forehead. “Mom passed away at that exact minute a little over a year ago. I can’t lose Gretta, too.”
His fingers flew over the keys. He had to keep trying to contact her. How much did she remember? He wrote bits and pieces of their times together. ‘Focus on the good times, Gretta. Blackberry tea. Yellow roses. Tenting on the beach. What do you remember?’
He pressed send.
Nothing.
He sent dozens more.
Nothing.
Over and over he read her last text.
Friday June 16th, 3:23 am. Not safe. Please hate me.
“The recent string of tragic events must have triggered her memory of the curse of bad luck.” He didn’t care who heard him talking to himself.
Sam typed a new text, taking a chance on what she remembered. Hopefully, she wouldn’t consider him insane.
‘I talked to James Longworthy. He gave me information on the first curse. Katarina’s working on it. Please reply. I can never hate you.’ Sam sent the text, praying she would respond.
