Haze

by E. R. Torre

  I gasped.

  The same one he wore the day he died.

  Halfway down the stairs, Robinson came to a stop. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a dark revolver. With great care he opened its chamber and checked to make sure his weapon was loaded. He put it away but didn't move.

  Slowly, very slowly, John Robinson turned, until he was looking directly at me. I too turned, half-expecting to see whatever ghostly image John Robinson had looked at all those years before. But there was nothing behind me. When I turned back I realized that John Robinson wasn’t just looking in my direction. He was looking right at me!

  Lifeless eyes probed mine, as if waiting for me to say or do something. Anything.

  He looked so tired, so very tired. Yet he was determined to go forward to Viktor’s mountain and his eventual fate. It was far too late to stop him, and yet he remained in place. An incredible thought flashed through my mind.

  All this time and thought all these visions, it was as if John Robinson was trying to tell me something.

  My legs went numb. My head felt like it was floating above my body. I shuddered and felt an electric charge pass through me. In a moment of crystal clarity I understood what John Robinson was silently telling me. A great sadness filled me, for I wanted him to know.

  I tried to talk, but no words came out of my mouth. I was an observer, nothing more. John Robinson's ghostly vision faded from the stairs. I closed my eyes and my head rolled back. My side ached, my legs wobbled. I was losing consciousness.

  When I once again opened my eyes John Robinson was no longer there.

  I knew I had seen the last vision of John Robinson, for I finally understood his unspoken message.

  For so long I tried not to get involved in his death, but I had no choice. I had to solve this mystery and, in doing so, I had to find Karl Walker's killer.

  My vision blurred, my eyes rolled up into my head.

  I collapsed in Judith's arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  In the darkness I relived a childhood nightmare...

  I ran with all my strength from something unimaginably large and terrifying. The thing was hidden in this darkness and was invisible to my eyes, yet I knew it was there. I knew it pursued me and I knew it was gaining.

  The harder I ran, the more exhausted I got. Despite my best efforts, there was no escape.

  The nightmare abruptly shifted. Instead of running, I was skiing. The slope before me was covered in a milky haze. Dull gray forms flew by my side, the ghosts of skeletal trees. The snow was a brighter gray. I looked back, but was still unable to see my pursuer. I pushed forward and bent down tight. If I was to live, I had to outrun my pursuer. I needed to pick more speed.

  As I did, I noticed the turn before me. It was so sharp. At this speed, it would be difficult to make, but I dare not slow down. Just past the turn and off the trail was a single jagged tree.

  I calculated the descent and a burning panic filled my soul.

  For the unseen menace I was trying so hard to run from was not behind me.

  It never was.

  It was there just beyond the turn, waiting for me to come to it...

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  The darkness receded, my eyes fluttered open.

  I was lying on top of a cushioned bed. I recognized it as belonging to one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor of the Robinson mansion. I closed my eyes and let myself relax. As I did, the visions of John Robinson faded.

  The sound of creaking in the wood floor, footsteps, came from beyond the door leading out of the room. The approaching person moved quickly but slowed just beyond the door. With a loud click, it opened and Judith stepped into the room. Her pretty face was marred with worry. The worry eased somewhat when she realized I was awake.

  "Are you alright?" she whispered. "I thought I heard you yell."

  "Just a bad dream," I replied. I sat up. "What happened?"

  "You fainted, I guess," she said. She walked to the side of the bed and sat on a chair that had at some point been propped there.

  "I called our local doctor, Porter. He'll be here in a few moments."

  "I know him well," I said and attempted an easy laugh. "You didn't have to call him. I feel fine."

  And I did. I felt as good –better– than I had in weeks.

  "You don't look it."

  "Thanks," I said. Judith smiled. "Seriously, I feel great. I really do."

  "Why did you want to see the Sheriff?"

  "Because..."

  I stopped talking and sighed. There was no way around it now.

  "I wanted to talk to him about the guy that was murdered at the Inn yesterday."

  "Oh?”

  "I knew him."

  “He was a friend?”

  "No, more like an acquaintance,” I replied. This wasn’t going to be easy. “The first time we went out, two days ago, I asked you about your Grandfather's death. You got angry because you thought I was like all those others that came to Viktor convinced that your Grandfather's death was foul play."

  She nodded.

  "You accused me of being one of them, but I wasn't. Not then. The guy that was killed at the Inn was."

  I told her about Karl Walker and how I met him at Viktor's Mountain and what we talked about during our first and final meal. I then told her how I discovered his body. I even told her about the relationship between Karl and Deputy Livingstone.

  I told her about everything. Everything but the visions.

  "You said that you weren't one of those people two days ago,” Judith said. “And now?"

  "People like Karl pursued their own fantasies about your Grandfather’s death. For me, it was the other way around.”

  “The fantasy pursued you?” Judith said. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. She didn’t know how accurate her words were.

  “Your Grandfather’s death may well have been an accident, but Karl’s was not. He was murdered, Judith, and the only reason anyone would do such a thing -the only reason that makes any sense- is because of his research into your Grandfather’s death."

  Judith rose from her chair and walked to the corner of the room. Her back was to me.

  "Karl Walker discovered something about your Grandfather's death, something no one else knew. I think that's why he was killed."

  "Why can’t you leave it alone?” Judith whispered.

  “I can’t,” I said, though there was no clear direction to follow from here. “I’m…I’m sorry for all this. I didn’t want to upset you. Not again.”

  “Then why tell me this? Why involve me at all?”

  "Because I needed to talk to someone, and you and I are the only people in this entire town who had nothing to do with Karl’s murder. Don’t you see? We were together, watching Death Highway, when he was killed."

  “And the Sheriff and Deputies and everyone else…”

  “They’re all suspects. Every one of them.”

  "Grandpa's death was an accident," Judith insisted. "Karl's death might not have had anything to do with it."

  "After all I’ve told you, do you really believe that?”

  Judith didn’t reply. She walked back to the chair.

  "You still haven’t told me why you needed to see the Sheriff."

  "This morning, when I left the Inn, I found this piece of paper wedged in my car’s door," I reached into my pocket and pulled the paper out. "Karl placed it there, probably seconds before he was killed."

  “You’re kidding?” Judith said. Her interest was piqued. “What does it say?”

  I gave her the paper and Judith eagerly read it. She was as disappointed as I was with its contents.

  "KarlsKube? What does that mean?"

  "I think it’s a password. Karl had a laptop computer and I wanted to know if the police found it. If they had, then maybe this code might give us access to whatever he stored within it."

  "Makes sense. Did you see it when you found his body?"

  "No. But I wasn't really looking."


  "Are you going to the Sheriff?"

  "I don't know. Karl thought the Sheriff was a decent candidate in your Grandfather’s—” I let that thought slide and cleared my throat.

  “You think the Sheriff might have killed Karl?” Judith asked.

  “I don’t know what to think. I could see Deputy Livingstone, but he has even more reason to want to get back at Karl."

  "Then you're stuck."

  "Unless you know some other way we can find out if they have that computer."

  Judith smiled.

  "I think I might."

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  There was a soft knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Judith said.

  The doorknob turned and Dr. Porter entered the room. He focused on Judith first and gave her a kindly smile. She sat on the chair next to the bed, and pointed me out. With a start, Dr. Porter realized who I was.

  "Mr. Towne. I was hoping the rest of your vacation would prove uneventful. Pardon my saying so, but I was hoping you wouldn't need my services again."

  "The feeling is mutual. No slight intended.”

  “None taken.”

  Dr. Porter laid his medicine bag on the bed. He reached into it and removed a stethoscope and a blood pressure meter. While using them, he asked me what happened and why he was called to see me. I told him the bare minimum: that I fainted and that I felt fine now. We talked for a while and when our conversation dried up, Judith spoke up.

  "Thanks for coming so quickly," she said. She smiled and he quickly reciprocated.

  "No problem, Miss Robinson," Dr. Porter said. His attention drifting away from me. "And how are you doing, Miss Robinson?"

  "Well. Did you hear about what happened at the Inn yesterday?"

  Dr. Porter nodded.

  "Yeah, that was pretty rough. The coroner’s on vacation, so they asked me to do the autopsy."

  "Ugh! I heard he was shot. In the face?"

  "Point blank. Very messy stuff. I’m sure Mr. Towne could tell you all about it.”

  "Less than you’d imagine. He tells me the Sheriff doesn’t want him to talk about it.”

  “Perhaps it’s for the best,” Dr. Porter said, silently acknowledging he was given the same orders by Sheriff Chandler.

  “Not to me it isn’t,” Judith said. “We should know what happened.”

  “In good time.”

  “Is it true he had a lot of papers on him? Papers dealing with my Grandfather’s death?"

  "I think,” the Doctor said and paused. “I think I saw that listed in the report."

  Dr. Porter’s eyes shifted from me to Judith and back again. I feared she was in danger of overplaying her hand and making Dr. Porter suspicious of her interest in Karl Walker. Thankfully, she backed off, at least a little.

  "They better catch whoever did this."

  Dr. Porter nodded. He reached into his medicine bag, pulled out an Otoscope, and looked into my ears.

  "You know, right before he found him, Mr. Towne and I were watching one of Grandpa’s movies?"

  "Yes."

  The Doctor's statements were growing increasingly terse and Judith had run out of ways to pump him for information. We were standing on the verge of failure.

  "Did the police find his laptop?" I said.

  The question took Dr. Porter completely by surprise.

  "What laptop?"

  Judith was unable to contain her excitement. She let out a small gasp, which Dr. Porter heard.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  "I knew he had a laptop, that's all,” I said. I tried to keep my voice even. “I didn’t remember seeing it when I found Karl’s body."

  “You think he was the victim of a robbery?”

  Dr. Porter’s words hit me like a fist to the face. Here I was thinking Karl’s death was part of a grand conspiracy when a much more simple, and obvious, explanation was staring me in the face. While traveling through town, someone could well have spotted Karl and his computer and decided they wanted it. This person, or persons, confronted him in the parking lot, he resisted, and…

  “They found his wallet and credit cards.”

  “Maybe the thief was afraid someone heard the gunshot and grabbed the computer and ran,” Dr. Porter said.

  It made sense. It made perfect sense.

  “Why didn’t you tell the Sheriff about this before?”

  “I only just thought about it,” I said. “I was…I was too shaken up.” I leaned back in the bed. “I’ll have to tell him.”

  "You do that," Dr. Porter said. He packed his gear and rose to his feet. "As far as I can tell, you’re fine. You may be suffering from exhaustion. Why don’t you take it easy for the next couple of days, and if you still feel things aren’t quite right, come and see me."

  "I will. I'm…I’m sorry."

  “For what? Get in touch with Sheriff Chandler, he could use this information. At least now he’ll know to look for a stolen laptop. It might help catch the killer.”

  Judith escorted Dr. Porter out of the room. They were gone for several long minutes before I heard the door leading out of the mansion close. Moments later, Judith was in the doorway. By that time I was on my feet.

  “Dr. Porter called the Sheriff before he left,” she said. “I couldn’t hear much, but he didn’t sound too happy.”

  “Dr. Porter or the Sheriff?”

  “Both, actually.”

  “I’ve made a mess of things,” I told her. “Dr. Porter was right. Karl was probably the victim of a robbery, and nothing more.”

  “Could be. But what about that password?"

  “It probably doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

  Judith didn’t reply. I ran my fingers through my hair and stomped the ground.

  “What a fucking mess. I should never have talked to Karl. He got me all mixed up, believing all that bullshit about your Grandfather’s death.”

  Even the visions of John Robinson were irrelevant. As the Doctor said, I was suffering from exhaustion. The simplest explanation is probably the right one.

  “I should get going,” I said. “I'm sure Sheriff Chandler will want to see me. If he calls or shows up, tell him I'm at the Inn."

  We walked out of the room, down the hallway, and to the front door. Beside it, propped on a chair, was my winter jacket. I grabbed it and put it on. I looked at Judith, and she at me. There was a nervous energy between us. We were parting, perhaps for the very last time.

  "You still love him," I said.

  "Yes."

  Her answer was so simple, so clear, and so very, very devastating. All doubts or hopes were forever erased. I hugged her tight and she responded in kind. We didn’t kiss. We couldn’t. In another time, in another life, we might have made a good couple. But not here and not now.

  I let her go. Without saying another word she ran down the hallway and as far away as she could get. I watched her leave me and could do nothing about it. My body felt limp, my mind was a blank. Finally, I turned and walked through the heavy wooden doors and into the cold.

  In the breeze I heard whispers of what might have been.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  I drove past the gates and turned right onto the main road. I didn't know what I'd do the rest of the day, other than return to the Inn. About two miles into the return trip I spotted a car driving toward me. It was a police car. When it passed, I recognized the driver and he recognized me.

  The car skidded to a halt. Sirens and lights came on as Sheriff Chandler made a tight U-turn and accelerated. I slowed the SUV to a stop and parked on the shoulder of the road. I wasn’t too far from where Nick Jones confronted me earlier in the morning.

  By the time Sheriff Chandler parked his car, I was standing beside mine, waiting for him. Chandler exited his car with the look of a man whose sleep was shattered. His jaw moved up and down, the muscles on his arms flexed in an angry mechanical motion.

  "What kind of game are you playing?" he hissed. He hovered just a foot
or two away. His arms grew flaccid. His right hand lay inches from his gun. All things considered, I preferred Nick Jones’ company.

  "Doctor Porter called me. Why didn't you tell me about the laptop?"

  "I didn't think about it until then."

  Chandler wasn't buying my story.

  "Look, I didn't think about it until I was at the Robinson estate."

  "Why didn't you come to me directly instead of beating around the bush with Porter?"

  Without realizing it, I took a step back.

  "I should have come to you first."

  "What else are you keeping from me?"

  KarlsKube.

  "Nothing."

  Chandler took a step closer toward me. His eyes squinted with anger, his eyebrows furled and pointed at his wrinkled nose.

  "Don't lie to me."

  I bit my lip and felt the cold side of my truck. Chandler backed me up against it and there was nowhere to run.

  "I'm not," I said as evenly as I could. "Look, I never actually saw the laptop.”

  “What?”

  “I think Karl carried it in a black briefcase. He never brought it out, at least in front of me. The only reason I think he had one was because on the first night I spent at the Inn, his typing kept me awake.”

  “That’s all?”

  “He worked with computers. Nowadays, just about everyone that does carries a laptop.”

  Everyone but me.

  “That’s all you got? An assumption?”

  Chandler stepped back. He looked away and swore. After a few moments, his eyes shifted back and locked themselves onto mine.

  “In our business, we don’t play around with assumptions. It’s what makes people like Karl waste their lives looking into accidental deaths.”

  Chandler took a few more moments to calm down.

  “Look,” he said. His voice had returned to normal. “You knew Karl better than anyone here—”