Virtue Falls

by Christina Dodd

Elizabeth lifted her hand to protect her eyes.

  “What the hell?” Garik asked.

  “There’s Elizabeth,” Bradley announced in an expansive tone, and walked toward her, smiling.

  She looked dumbfounded.

  Taking her hand, Bradley turned her to face the crowded table in the middle of the café. “Here’s Elizabeth Banner, Virtue Falls’ newest media star, and a woman I’m proud to call my friend.”

  Another barrage of flashbulbs.

  Garik recognized the governor, his aides, and at least two TV newscasters. Someone was shooting video—wait, it was that girl photographer from yesterday, Loring.

  Vivian Hoff stood beside her, wordlessly directing her.

  Garik moved closer to listen.

  For the video, Loring was saying, “Elizabeth Banner is a child prodigy who put herself through college and grad school by modeling women’s shoes. She followed in her father’s footsteps to become one of the world’s foremost geologists, and she is the woman who shot the now famous tsunami video for the Geological Society of America. The video took the Internet by storm, posting yesterday afternoon and going viral almost at once, with people watching in amazement as she filmed the big waves at considerable risk to herself. Elizabeth Banner’s other claim to fame, of course, is that she’s the girl who saw her father kill her mother with the scissors. Yet despite her past, or perhaps because of it, famed American artist Bradley Hoff has long been a fan of her blossoming talent and scientific genius.”

  Considering that yesterday Bradley couldn’t quite remember Elizabeth, Garik considered this news nothing less than astonishing.

  Bradley herded Elizabeth from one dignitary and newscaster to another, introducing her and claiming friendship.

  Rainbow moved in and out, serving coffee and distributing donuts … The governor must have brought them.

  Garik crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, and waited.

  As the moments ticked away, Elizabeth spoke, she smiled, she shook hands, but her chin jutted, her eyes darted, and her complexion turned red and blotchy.

  Bradley was so busy garnering attention, the fool didn’t recognize the warning signs.

  So Elizabeth’s sudden outflung arms caught him by surprise, and slapped him in the chest. “I have to go to work,” she declared.

  Garik straightened away from the wall, walked to the door, and waited.

  “Thank you for your kind words.” She stared at the governor, at the news reporters. “But the Banner geological study needs as much time as possible in these … these fraught days after the earthquake and tsunami. If you would excuse me.”

  Garik opened the door.

  She fled as if avoiding the gallows.

  “And there you have it,” Bradley said. “That dedication to work is what has made Elizabeth Banner the foremost geological expert in the world.”

  Polite applause and approving murmurs swept the Oceanview Café.

  Vivian Hoff touched Loring’s arm. “Stop filming.”

  “No kidding.” Loring put down the camera.

  Vivian swept toward the open door, her heels clicking on the shattered linoleum.

  Garik waited for her to pass, then stepped out in time to hear Vivian say, “Elizabeth Banner, halt.” She spoke softly.

  But Elizabeth heard her, and twirled to face her. “What do you want?” She exuded hostility.

  “I want to talk to you about Bradley, all the attention you’re receiving, and are going to receive.” Still that soft voice, the deadly tone.

  “I don’t want—”

  Vivian advanced. “You have to understand that Bradley is the reason Virtue Falls is in the national spotlight.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “It’s because of his kindness that your name is now on everyone’s lips.”

  With her usual pedantic fairness, Elizabeth said, “That’s not strictly true. I took the video. It is a very good video. And Noah Griffin is the reporter who placed it—”

  “I know it’s intoxicating to realize you’re a celebrity, but”—Vivian stuck her face into Elizabeth’s—“don’t try to overshadow the talent. Do … you … understand … me?”

  Elizabeth stared at her, wide-eyed with shock. “I believe I do. You want me to make sure I don’t take anything away from Bradley Hoff and his stardom.”

  “You can’t take anything away from Bradley Hoff. I want you to make sure you don’t try, because I would make you sorry.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remember.” Vivian turned and marched toward the door.

  Garik opened it for her.

  She strode inside.

  Elizabeth turned to him in astonishment “Did she threaten me?”

  “I think she did.” If he hadn’t been here to see the event, he didn’t know if he would have believed it. “That woman is scary.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Very odd.”

  They stared through the broken windows into the Oceanview Café.

  People were starting to look back. People like the network cameramen. People like the governor.

  “Want me to take you to work today?” Garik offered.

  “Yes.” She walked to the truck and got in, and on the ten-minute drive to the canyon, Garik noted that ruddy color rose and fell in her cheeks, ebbing and flowing like the tides, and several times she closed her eyes and her mouth moved, although she said nothing.

  They got to the plateau above the canyon. He pulled off the road, close to the path that led through knee-length grass and to a different world, where science reigned supreme and Elizabeth felt at home. In fact, he could almost watch her relax.

  She took off her seatbelt. “They won’t find me here.”

  “I wouldn’t depend on that. If the governor wants a tour, he’ll get one.”

  She dropped her head into her hands.

  Garik continued, enjoying himself just a little. “They’ll bring their cameras. Your new best friend Bradley Hoff will pretend to be interested in your work. Andrew Marrero will glare from the background.”

  Elizabeth groaned.

  “It is a circus, and you’re in one of the rings as a big deal. Elizabeth, you’re famous!”

  Elizabeth lifted her head. She opened the door. She turned on him and glared. “They all took pictures of me. They all took video of me. I was on camera. I’m going to be on the news. And I didn’t. Even. Have. Any. Makeup on!”

  Garik grinned and watched her stride toward the canyon.

  Sometimes he forgot how very girly she could be.

  Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw the caravan of cars headed this way.

  The governor had demanded his tour.

  Today, at least, Garik didn’t have to worry about Elizabeth’s safety. She was going to have a lot of company.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  No one knew where the fog hid. Sometimes it was gone, vanquished by summer, heat, green growing grass, sweat, and the smell of Coppertone. Sometimes it hung at the edge of the horizon, a pale greasy gray line glistening in the sunshine. And when autumn began to sniff around the coast, fog would roll in like a tsunami, rising higher and higher, a silent menace that broke over the land. Fog muffled every noise, changed tree stumps into stalkers and car headlights into monster eyeballs. Fog moved in without warning, without sound, swallowing the sun and surprising the unwary.

  When Elizabeth’s phone bleated and shook her out of her concentration, she blinked and sat back on her heels. She dug in her bag and looked. The screen was lit. But no text. No call. Only a number she didn’t recognize from an area code she didn’t know.

  Weird.

  Did somebody try to call and it failed? Did the cell tower have a power surge? Maybe the attention Bradley Hoff had brought Virtue Falls had made the phone companies move toward fixing the blackout. If everyone had a way to connect with the outside world, the tensions in town would ease.

  Her phone went black.

  She rubbed her back and looked around.

>   At some point while she had been crouched over four square feet of soil and debris deposited by the tsunami, fog had moved in, blotting out the sun.

  But at least she had cataloged and photographed every twig, every rock, every expired sea creature. It had been a good day’s work. And best of all, for the first time in four days, she was alone. No governor, no state senators, no news reporters, no Loring the photographer. They had all flown away …

  No Andrew Marrero, no Ben, Luke, and Joe. No Garik.

  Uh-oh.

  She stripped off her gloves. “Luke?” she called. “Hey, Luke, where are you?”

  No answer.

  “Andrew? Joe? Ben?… Anybody?”

  No answer.

  Not surprising that they had abandoned her; they were not happy with her. She had witnessed the earthquake. She had taken the tsunami video. She was getting publicity. Lots of publicity.

  True to her promise to Garik, she had been carefully tagging after her team.

  Today, she’d been absorbed in work, and they had seen their chance and escaped her.

  “Damn it,” she whispered. Garik was going to be pissed. Standing, she dusted off her knees and called, “Hello! Hey, guys, where are you?”

  Had they left for the day?

  She checked her cell for the time. It was only four thirty, so probably not. For all that Ben, Luke, and Joe were Marrero’s sycophants, they were solid workmen. They had slipped away to work other spots. In fairness, they didn’t know she was supposed to keep close to them. They didn’t imagine, as Garik did, that evil lurked around every boulder, waiting for its chance to take her out.

  She sighed. No use wondering if he was right. No use getting psychotic over a little spooky atmosphere. She’d walk back to town as quickly as possible and hopefully Garik would never find out.

  Except, damn it, he could always tell when she lied.

  Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she started up the canyon slope.

  Guilt made her alternately defiant and worried, because she knew she should have been paying attention. She shouldn’t have let the fog catch her unaware. Moreover, she knew Garik was right; there was a chance that the man who had attacked Yvonne wanted into the care facility to harm her father, and would also like to harm her. She shouldn’t be alone. And yet here she was, at the top of the canyon, preparing to walk back to town …

  She did the intelligent thing. She used her phone and called Garik.

  Immediately his voice mail picked up. So his phone was still dead.

  She called Margaret.

  Margaret answered in two rings.

  “Is Garik there?” Elizabeth asked.

  “He left a good three hours ago. Why? Do you need him?”

  “No, I was going to tell him I’m on my way back to town.”

  “By yourself?” Margaret’s voice rose.

  “I know. I shouldn’t be alone. But I am. I can’t find the guys, and this is my smartest move. Going to town. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Yes. Go to town. Can you find your way?”

  “Don’t fret. In the winter, I find my way in the dark.” Elizabeth looked up at the yellow-glazed blob of sun hanging in the western sky. “Garik’s going to yell at me, though.”

  “As will I when you get here!” Margaret sounded irked—and worried.

  “No one could find me out here.” Elizabeth heard a sound off to her left, like the scuffle of a small animal in the brush … or a shoe dragged through dirt. Her heart jumped. “I’ve got to go. I need to get to the road, then into town. Just tell Garik where I am, okay?”

  “I will. I’ll send him for you. Be quiet and careful.” Margaret hung up.

  Elizabeth did the same. She stuck her phone into her pocket and walked toward the road. At least … she thought she walked toward the road. Who could tell in this fog?

  She moved through the tall summer grass, straining to listen, to hear something more …

  Stupid of her to imagine that because fog hung on the air, pale and damp, and because she was alone, that someone was hunting her.

  Yet she kept hearing things: twigs snapping, grass swishing, the thud of feet against the cool ground.

  She forced herself to stop and listen.

  She heard nothing but the distant thunder of the ocean. “Foolishness,” she whispered to herself.

  She took the long way around to the road, hoping to shake her uneasiness, and when her foot touched the pavement, she laughed softly and picked up the pace. She would be in town in twenty minutes. When Garik arrived, she’d hustle him out of the diner and she would never have to tell him she’d lost track of the guys. Confession might be good for the soul, but—

  Her phone bleated again.

  She pulled it out of her pocket and looked. It was lit again, same number with some area code she didn’t recognize. She’d never heard her phone make that sound before. Was this a text? An aborted call? Was the phone company running tests?

  Was it a way for the killer to target her?

  No. Oh, God, please, no.

  She shoved her phone into her pocket. Heard the rush of sound from behind. Turned and jumped off the pavement.

  The fog-shrouded figure hit her left side, caught her arm, and almost yanked it out of the socket.

  She screamed.

  It swung her around, shoved her.

  She landed on her face, mouth open, in the dirt.

  It punched her on the back of the head.

  Her face bounced into the ground.

  Grass. Seeds. Soil.

  She choked. Coughed.

  It rolled her onto her back and pressed a knee to her chest and a knife to her neck.

  Male? Female? Elizabeth couldn’t tell. She only knew her attacker wore a leather jacket, a ski mask, and black gloves.

  It spoke in a gravelly voice, yet its tone was kind, gentle,… almost soothing … yet with an underlying greed and anticipation. “Let’s cut off your pretty hair. We don’t want to get blood in it.”

  Terror rose in her throat. She choked again, hacked, gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” it whispered.

  She clawed, coughed, tears streaming from her eyes, unable to dislodge the debris in her throat.

  “Stop it!” Its voice was louder, indignant. It grabbed her cheeks between its fingers, and squeezed. The eyes behind the ski mask blazed. “Stop it. You’re ruining it!”

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She saw a blur from the side. Something kicked her assailant. Once. Twice.

  The creature grunted and tumbled away into the darkness.

  She rolled onto her knees, and coughed, and coughed, eyes streaming, unable to do anything except try desperately to recover her breath.

  Nearby, but out of sight, she heard the impact of flesh and bone. Again. And again. Finally, a yelp of pain, and the thud of footsteps.

  She spit up the last of the debris. She knelt, head down, gasping.

  She listened.

  Close at hand, she heard a man’s panting breath.

  She came to her feet, ready to run.

  Garik staggered out of the fog. “Call the cops,” he said.

  “Oh, my God!” She leaped at him, hugged him, buried her head in his chest. “It was you. I should have known it was you.” Her voice scratched at her throat. “How did you know? How did you know he was there?”

  “I didn’t. I wait for you every night, watch for you to come out of the canyon. Tonight I couldn’t see you. Not until your phone went off. Then … then he got to you first.” Gently, Garik pushed her away. “Elizabeth, call the cops.”

  “Yes. Of course. Yes.” She stepped back, fumbled for her phone, dialed 911.

  And watched as Garik collapsed at her feet.

  She dropped the phone, knelt beside him. “Garik?”

  “Stabbed me in the right side. But I got him, too. I got him.” His voice slid into a whisper. “I got him.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Garik was bleeding. He was bleeding.r />
  There was blood.

  Blood spreading across his chest …

  She stifled a sob. “Garik.”

  His eyes opened, and closed. “Did you call nine-one-one?”

  “Yes! Wait.” She crawled around until she found her phone.

  Someone was talking, asking for her problem, her location.

  “My husband … he’s hurt, he’s bleeding, he needs to go to the hospital. Now.”

  “Can you tell me why he’s bleeding?” the dispatcher asked.

  “He was attacked. He was stabbed!”

  “What’s your location?”

  “On the road outside of Virtue Falls by the path that leads to the canyon.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Elizabeth Banner. Send someone now!” Elizabeth hung up, spoke to Garik. “Where’s the truck?”

  “Down the road.” He pointed.

  She ran.

  The keys were in the ignition. She started the engine, put it in gear, and drove three hundred feet down the road to Garik’s prostrate body. She parked, got out, dug around behind the seat. She found a thin travel blanket, folded neatly in the pocket behind the seat. She pulled it out, ran to Garik.

  He was bleeding. Bleeding.

  There was blood.

  She slid the blanket underneath him, wrapped it around his chest, tied the ends.

  He smiled. “Good job. That’ll help.”

  In the distance, she heard the wail of a siren. “That was fast,” she said.

  “It’s Foster.” Garik struggled to stand. “Early to the crime scene, as usual.”

  “You don’t think he’s the one that—”

  “Don’t know. Get me in the truck. In the truck!” Garik’s eyes were wild, determined.

  She put her arm around him and helped him get to his feet.

  He was standing when the police car drove up.

  Garik was wounded. He was weak. But he didn’t want to show Foster. He didn’t dare show Foster. If Foster was the one who had attacked her …

  “He’s got a gun.” She tried to help Garik into the tall truck.

  “I know. So let’s put on a show of strength.” But when he reached up to lift himself up, he groaned and fell back.

  Sheriff Foster got out of the car. “Put him in here!” he shouted, and pointed to his patrol car. “In the back!”