Who Do You Trust Now? (A Disappearance Mystery Thriller Book 5)

by Laura Greene

  As the winds close in on her and the water pounds against her raincoat, so do the trees. Melody dodges a branch swinging at her face. Her flashlight brings another swinging branch in her view and she narrowly ducks, escaping its swipe at her head.

  This is becoming more dangerous. She wants to turn around. But she has already come a long way that it makes more sense to go forward. Now, the light is the closest shelter in view.

  Climbing over a tossed branch, she perseveres on. She can’t afford to get trapped in this or if another sinkhole forms, she may not make it out alive this time. Melody is beginning to understand why the townspeople of Talon’s Point said, “Here in Scotland, ye dress fae all four seasons.”

  Suddenly, while reminiscing about Talon’s Point, she is interrupted by a loud cracking noise. Then the wind howls above her as a tree comes tumbling down to the ground.

  This can’t be good, she thinks, panicking. The tree is big, it’s heavy and it’s thick. It tumbles flat on the already hard to see trail, its impact with the ground ricochets and the ground trembles from under her.

  Latching onto a tree beside her, Melody steadies herself from the shaking. Thankfully, the ground does not cave from under her.

  Melody sees the impossible obstacle ahead, but it does not deter her. The tree now sits between her and the light ahead. She tightens the grips of her backpack, puts her flashlight in her mouth, climbs up the now horizontal tree, then slides off. She needs to get to the other side.

  Taking a deep breath, she climbs again, resolute she can make it. Her arms hug the tree bark, her hands and grip the ridges, then her fingers dig into the smaller gaps where her hands can’t reach. She dangles in the air with one leg while the other grips on with every muscle in its frame. It hurts.

  She tries to swing her free leg, but it’s not gaining momentum. Tightening her grip, she tries to edge along with her arms, the water collecting in the ridges makes it harder for her fingers to hold on.

  “Argh!” She cries out, frustrated. Melody is losing strength to keep holding on, but the storm is gaining strength. If she cannot get over this tree now, she will not make it to the light.

  Exhausted, yet trying to give it her all, she shuffles along the giant tree trunk, pushing away slippery leaves. Still gripping her flashlight with her mouth, she gets closer to the treetop. She wants to find an area with more grooves or branches that she can cling to and pull herself up on.

  Grunting, dangling with her legs, gripping with her arms, she shuffles along the tree trunk. She is making headway and thinking she might actually do it.

  All of a sudden, her arm slips off. Melody is hanging on with one arm now. Rainfall drips down this arm, down her collar and chills her back. She swings her arm in towards her, trying to restore it on the tree, but she overcorrects and her other arm slips, releases, then sends her tumbling down.

  She lands on her back, her face bitterly staring at the overcast sky, with anger and regret that she did not see the storm coming. The bruise Melody feels tonight though is to her ego because the backpack cushions her fall.

  Realizing her mouth is now free of her flashlight, she mutters frustrations under her breath while hoisting her soaked body up again, then searches for her flashlight. Following a thin stream of water, she sees her flashlight had rolled downstream and got caught in the wedge of a small branch. Surprisingly, it’s light is still on as the stream of rainfall continues to beat against it while flowing down.

  While she wants to keep going, Melody has to admit defeat and find shelter before the unruly storm destroys her. The water continues to rise and she knows she needs to find shelter up high. She can try to cry for help, but the thunderous skies and howling winds render her cries useless.

  Melody shines her flashlight up high, towards the treetops and edges of the hills. There she sees it. It’s an opening in the hill to her side. She follows the natural incline of the hill until she can see that it is an opening to a cave.

  Relieved to end her misery, Melody slips out of the rain, hides out in the quiet cave and already, the rumbling rain has hushed.

  This cave has a natural incline which keeps the rainfall from collecting inside. A tunnel leads her deeper into the cave, then as she shines her light on its walls, Melody sees they are cleaner, with not nearly as many cobwebs as the first cave. This surprises her, but she doesn’t question it too much.

  Deeper she enters, the rainfall now a distant, light trickle to her ear. She inadvertently marks her trail from the entrance with dripping water from her clothes and backpack, mesmerized to see no bats or critters in this cave.

  Then the cave opens up like the deep belly of a whale. Vast darkness is lightly awakened and brought to light at her entry. Masking any interest in her, the cave remains silent, quietly observing its guest. Melody is taken in by how little impact her light has on the room, so deeper she goes in search of understanding her home for the night.

  It is strangely vacant and undisturbed. Melody wonders how it can be naturally well-preserved and clean. Walking to the center, she sees a makeshift firewood stove, like you might find in a hut in the heart of southern Africa. It looks just like the pictures her father showed her. As a little girl. A closer look, reveals smoke is rising up out of the fireplace, but there is no fire.

  She crouches down next to the fireplace, moves the firewood, and discovers warm embers underneath. They give off a slight, warm glow. Melody looks around to see if she has company and she sees no one. But someone left this fire burning, she concludes.

  Rubbing the logs to create friction, like her father showed her as a little girl, the smoke picks up and rises towards the top of the cave, the embers ignite into a stronger glow, then she takes out a small piece of paper from a clear plastic bag inside her bag, it’s dry. She ignites it on the embers, they grow while she blows and the fire is restored.

  Now, the smoke rising awakens a couple of bats that were sleeping, soundly in the cave. They fly around the room confused which way to go from the smoke. One flies close to Melody and she flings her raincoat at it, shooing it away. Then the bats find the exit, they fly out in a hurry and escape into the night.

  Melody is just grateful she does not have to sleep with bats tonight. After fighting through a storm, the last thing she needs right now is unwanted company.

  She strangely finds wood stacked along one side of the wall, takes some of it and adds it to the fire. It is unusual, but she is too tired to think too much into it right now. As far as she knows, the storm is raging outside, but Melody is safe, already warming up inside the cave. After changing her clothes then laying them out to dry during the night, while she sleeps, she realizes how tired she really is.

  At once, she sets out a small bed of clean clothes in the shape of a slim bed, close to the fire, yet keeping a safe distance from sparks spitting out. Then she takes a step back and her foot lands on something. It is a pair of men’s shoes.

  Chapter 4

  It is now morning, Melody is woken up by a chill entering the cave. Her first thought, however, is Whose shoes are these?

  The shoes are worn out. They are charcoal, men’s work boots, with scratches on the front and wrinkles on the flaps directly under the shoestrings.

  She holds them in her hands, studying them intently. As she sizes them up, she can tell they are roughly a size eleven or twelve in mens. And the treading underneath is wearing off. But she already knew this.

  Last night she barely slept, wondering if she was really alone or how long she might be alone before unexpected company stops by. She couldn’t tell how the shoes got there and if the person might come back for them and it troubled her. When she finally recalled the storm being fierce enough to ward off even the bravest of prowlers, she realized she was at least safe for the night.

  They could belong to anyone, she thinks, attempting to figure out who they might belong to. She can’t stay here and try to figure it out though, it’s not safe.

  Walking to the opening of the cave
, she sees the weather has cleared, leaving behind a strangely beautiful catastrophe. It’s the Scottish wild; it can sink a hole in the ground and make it look majestic.

  If she wasn’t standing right in front of it, she wouldn’t believe it, but here she stands, amazed by rich, wilderness comeliness. The trees that were fiendishly swept away and uprooted by the rainfall helped form a valley that they now occupy in droves. While she was fortunate to not encounter it last night, the rain did form a sinkhole, which created a funnel and added depth to the valley.

  The wilderness is just as lovely as when she first laid eyes on it, like the storm did not occur last night.

  Remembering her time is limited, she devises a plan, quickly packs her things like the nomad she has become and leaves the cave the way she found it. Then, walking down the ramp, along the side of the hill, she promptly exits the cave and finds an opening among the trees to hide behind.

  The woods engulf her from sight, as they do a crafty predator. She specifically wore camouflage for this reason. And there she awaits her prey, hungry to know whom the cave belongs to.

  She is close, on the opposite side of the trail; she’ll get a good look of whoever walks up the ramp without exposing herself.

  Her guess is they will come from where she saw the light, appear from among the trees, then walk up the ramp, into the cave. And she is right. Ten minutes of her stakeout, surveying the cave barely passes by before she gets a hit.

  Immediately, two rather large men, wearing heavy work boots appear from behind the trees and walk up the ramp. Melody can see one of them slightly, she can tell he looks familiar, but she can’t pinpoint where she has seen him before. Shortly after, they disappear into the cave.

  Her plan is going as intended. According to her calculations, they will not stay in the cave more than five minutes. She guesses this based on the provisions inside the cave. First of all, there is no food inside, so if they are coming this early in the morning, they are probably just picking up the boots.

  She is right. The men walk out with the pair of boots at one man’s side, then disappear into the trees again. They knew what they were looking for, she considers.

  Melody gathers her bag, to follow closely behind. When she gets to the bottom of the hill, she sees the same size boot print in the dirt and she knows these are her men.

  Keeping a safe distance, Melody avoids being spotted. They are going to where she saw the light glowing last night. This is exactly what she wants them to do, Yes, lead me to your lair.

  Slipping past a silver birch with her backpack, she can tell they know where they are going. Both men walk confidently, like they have walked this trail many times. Neither man leads; they walk side by side, happily discussing together like familiar friends. Yet they are being closely watched.

  She is close, close enough to hear them talking, but too far to tell what they say. This does not bother Melody, she is more interested in where they are going right now. They men swiftly stoop down the side of a hill and she does the same, they swing past a line-up of tall trees, the men are walking fast and Melody has no time to see what type of trees they are.

  Just then, she sees an opening forming up ahead and she slows down. A space looks like it's been cleared out from among the thick woods. The men exit the woods into this area, Melody remains, hiding behind a few trees in the woods.

  With her eyes, she continues to follow the two men’s movements and there it is – a wooden cabin, neatly planted on a cement foundation, at the center of the open area. It’s a home.

  The man holding the boots goes inside first, then the second man disappears behind its quarters. Melody takes the opportunity to inch a little closer to the cabin, still remaining behind the safety of the trees.

  She sits and takes in the cabin’s dark wooden features. It’s professionally built by someone who intended to live here for a period of time. They thought through their design. The cabin is on raised ground, with an extra half a foot of cement to combat floods. To make it more welcoming, a small flower garden of bright, yellow tulips sits just beyond the cement, on one side of the matching wooden door.

  Beautiful tree outlines give it a stunning backdrop without blocking the sun’s warm rays. Even now, she squints her eyes from her spot in the woods, looking at a window to see what’s going on inside the cabin, but the sun reflects off the windows and gloss of the cabin’s wooden logs, obstructing her view.

  She wonders if one of these windows is where the light she saw in the evening was glowing from? Patiently, Melody waits. She takes out her power bars from inside her backpack and eats, quietly, watching. Right now she has no way of drawing close to the cabin, unnoticed, but once evening comes, she will carry out the rest of her plan.

  *

  The sun is setting and Melody has been thinking strongly about whether or not her father might still be on the island, just deserted somewhere. The island has a decently small acreage, but she can see how someone can easily get lost in its vast forestry. Maybe it is just her hope of seeing him again.

  From what she has observed, the men have been in the cabin mostly, one came out to gather wood from the side of the cabin and took it in, then, the other man came and rooted up some weeds from the flower garden.

  She wonders if these men are friends or foes. They seem to be living their lives, normally. She hasn’t gotten a good look at either man yet, but she soon will.

  Melody watches as hues of red and orange form on the tulips as the sunset rays kiss its petals. Just before dipping under the hills. She has wanted a flower garden of her own for some years now. Boston’s crowded, high rise apartments and heavy traffic make it difficult to breath, let alone grow a garden.

  If she can make it off this island, she plans to find a home in Lancaster and raise her garden there.

  A deer bounces along the back of the cabin, its antlers catching the final glows of the sunset. While she misses her family and her home, Melody feels more at home in nature. On her unplanned trip here in Scotland, she has seen more of the Scottish wild than she would normally on her digs.

  I’m starting to enjoy these adventures more than my archeological d… she catches herself before admitting she has not given as much thought to archeology since she has been in Scotland. It is a strange place for her to be and she has not experienced it in her career before: possibly letting go of an old dream and making room for a new one to form. What is this island doing to me? She questions.

  It’s getting dark. Melody clutches her bag and checks her food is safely packed away to not attract foxes. Then she sees it, the light that she watched each night from the cottage, has now just turned on a short distance away from her. She recognizes it as another man comes around the corner, holding a lantern and quickly enters the cabin.

  The light is now reflecting from inside the cabin, shutting her out in darkness. Her plan, however, has not been disturbed. Being on Deacon island so long, she’s learned to think a few steps ahead. Being the only person who didn’t know the dangers that the townspeople knew about, meant that she had to catch up quickly and her informants Emma and Morrison helped her learn. If only she had thought of that before Nell tricked her. A little fifteen-year-old girl… She breaks off the thought process, certain that it will not benefit her current venture or emotional well-being.

  Melody wonders, Who is that man? She would be lying if she didn’t admit that she wondered if it could be her father. But again, she cannot tell. She needs to come closer, she needs to see with her own eyes. And as if her body is hearing and responding to her desire, she sneaks up to the cabin, quietly. Slowly, she inches forward with reserve. She lightly walks up along the side of the cabin, towards a window on the other side of the front door.

  Crouching low, she avoids being seen from inside. Then, all of a sudden, a hand grabs her shoulder from behind, pulls her up and the grunting voice of a man says, “Follow me.” The voice is stern, sure and Melody must follow it. The man’s face is equally serious. He turns a
round and leads her to the back of the cabin, where the two men who came to the cave in the morning are sitting. She dares not run or disobey, seeing that the man’s broad, hunched shoulders and sturdy arms could snatch her in a moment. His heavy boots clunk against the cement as his towering stature walks in front of her.

  She has been caught, and now, she is in the custody of these men – men who may very well have harmed her father. All of a sudden, Melody feels like she is “the hunted” again.

  The fire is going, crackling as sparks fly in the air on an outdoor fire pit. Melody does not speak a word, apprehensively, she observes her surroundings.

  When the man who brought her to the back sits down on a chair next to the fire pit, she remains standing, now taking in a full assessment of the back patio.

  Unsure what will become of her, she tenses her arms, clutches her backpack straps, then clenches her teeth. She is on her guard, concerned, and wondering, will her father’s fate be her own tonight?