Loose Ends (23 page)

She reached up, released the latch and slowly lowered the gate. The brown dirt road slipped past them quickly. The drop was only a couple of feet, but Bradley was right, it was going to hurt.

“Roll sideways,” Bradley suggested. “And when you hit the road, keep rolling to your left so he doesn’t see you through his side mirror.”

Mary nodded, and shifted in the bed so she could roll out. She lifted her head up and looked at Bradley. “Good luck,” she whispered.

He smiled and nodded, “You too.”

She rolled out and hit the ground with a thump. “Ouch! Crap!” she whispered, as she pushed her body towards the brush on the side of the road.

Once hidden, she glanced up and saw Bradley rolling off the truck and onto the road. He rolled into the woods and out of sight. Mary was about to sigh with relief when she noticed the brake lights on the truck brighten.
Crap,
she thought,
he’s stopping here.

She was immediately on her feet and running towards Bradley. Bradley was starting to get up when he saw her running towards her. “He’s stopping,” she said, “We have to get out of here now.”

She grabbed his hand and they plunged together into the dense brush, running downhill from the road. A bullet hit a tree a few feet in front of them. Another hit somewhere on the ground near them. Mary pulled them to the right and they crashed through more undergrowth.

Bradley felt the burn the moment the bullet entered his foot. He kept moving, but the pain was intense. He was sure the bullet must have ricocheted off the ground first and then into his foot, because a direct shot would have caused more damage.

“We should split up,” Bradley said, knowing he was going to slow them down.

“Sure,” Mary panted. “You run down the hill and I’ll circle back and distract him.”

“Mary, no,” Bradley said immediately, remembering the last thing Hank had said to him about Mary.

“Then we stick together,” Mary said, turning back to look at him.

When she saw the beads of sweat on his face, she stopped. “What the hell?” she asked.

She looked down and saw the blood oozing from his boot. “You could have said something,” she accused.

“There’s nothing we can do right now,” he said, “The boot is keeping pressure on the wound and we need to keep going.”

Mary searched for a more level route to put less pressure on his foot. Cutting to the left seemed to be the most level ground of all of her choices. “Let’s go this way.”

They heard the engine of the truck roar to life. “Well, at least we have the advantage of being able to run through the woods,” she said, pushing through the branches.

After five minutes, they found a small clearing in the midst of the woods. Mary guided Bradley to a large tree trunk. “Sit,” she ordered.

He sat, wiped the sweat from his face and lifted his foot onto the log. “Mary, we need to face facts,” he said, “No one knows we’re out here. He has a gun, he has a truck, he has the advantage and I’m just slowing you down. We need a better plan than just trying to hide from him in the woods.”

Mary shook her head. “We just need to lie low,” she argued. “He won’t know where to find us...”

“Mary, I’ve left a trail of blood across the whole damn woods,” he interrupted. “Of course he can find us.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she said.

“Listen to me,” he said, “He’s not going to be half as brutal to me as he will be to you. I just can’t stomach the thought of you being caught.”

“But Bradley...” she began.

They heard the truck in the near distance. “Go, Mary. Go and get help,” he said, “Go now!”

Mary ran across the clearing into the woods, she glanced back and saw Bradley limping away from the log and back into hiding. She really didn’t want to leave him, but she knew he was right; one of them had to go and get help.

She ran southeast, towards the highway, towards help. The rough terrain was uphill and covered with a damp matting of leaves. Mary grabbed hold of branches and saplings to pull herself up towards the ridge that lay about forty feet above the maintenance road.

When she was about thirty feet up the incline she heard the truck. Looking around for cover she saw a tree trunk a few feet away lying horizontally on the ground, caught between two upright trees. She gauged the distance and jumped quickly. The move was supposed to take her sideways, toward the trunk. But her boot landed on a pile of wet leaves and her feet slipped out from under her.

She hit the ground hard and immediately began to slip downhill. Leaves, rocks and branches rolled down the hill with her. She could hear the truck’s approach and knew she was on a freefall back down to the road.

Panicked, she dug her fingers into the ground, trying to grab something, anything, to hold on to. She scraped her hands on the thorny brush and jagged rocks, but couldn’t find anything that would stop her descent.

Finally, she rammed into a sapling and grabbed it with both hands. She buried her face in the leaves. Praying that she was high enough on the hill and the brush was deep enough that she would be hidden. She breathed deeply, her heart pounding as she waited for the truck to pass.

The truck slowed. Mary held her breath. Then it continued down the road. Amazed and relieved, she waited a few moments before lifting her head.

The sun was beginning to set. The tree tops were ablaze in red and orange and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. Mary pulled herself up and scrambled up the rest of the incline until she reached the top of the ridge. Once there, she leaned against a big oak and caught her breath. She could hear the truck in the distance, but then the engine stopped.

Had he found Bradley? She prayed he was still safe.

“Do you love him?” a woman’s voice asked.

Mary’s heart jumped. She turned and found Renee Peterson next to her. The sun shone through her translucent form, giving her an ethereal glow. Her face was ice blue, her lips purple and her hair and dress were still dripping with water.

It took Mary a moment to remember her question.

“Who?” Mary asked.

“The man in the woods,” Renee asked. “The one who is bleeding. Do you love him?”

Mary sighed. “He has a wife,” she said simply.

Renee smiled sadly. “I understand. It’s hard not to love them, but they can’t be trusted.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “He killed me.”

Mary shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. Joseph Ryerson did not kill you.”

Renee looked at her suspiciously. “Why do you say that?”

“Because the man who killed you is Hank Montague.”

“Hank? Hank killed me? Why?”

“Because Hank had been killing little girls. On the night of the party he was in the process of disposing of a body and you saw him.”

The ghost looked at her in disbelief. “But, I didn’t see anything. I had no idea,” she said.

Mary shrugged. “He didn’t care,” she said, “He was just tying up loose ends.”

“Joseph didn’t kill me?” she asked in wonder.

“No, he didn’t,” Mary replied. “He grieved for you.”

Renee looked down the ridge and then back at Mary. “So, do you love him?” she asked again.

Mary smiled. “It would be easy to do,” she replied.

Mike Strong appeared next to Renee. “Then why are you running away?” he asked.

“I’m not running, I’m going for help,” Mary said, more than slightly peeved at his insinuation.

“Well, you don’t have time,” Mike said, “Hank has nearly caught up with the Police Chief.”

“How do you know,” Mary asked, already moving along the top of the ridge, back towards where she left Bradley.

“Because I was there,” he said.

Mary looked down. The truck was parked below her, alongside the road. She couldn’t see Hank, but he was fairly close to where she and Bradley had parted.

“What the hell do I do now?” she wondered aloud.

“He left his keys in the truck,” Mike said.

“Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Without thinking about the consequences, she ran down the incline, not bothering to hide the noise that she was making. If Hank heard her and decided to turn back, so much the better.

She jumped onto the road about 10 yards from the truck. She briefly glanced around and then sprinted towards the truck. Mary was only fifteen feet from the truck, when Hank emerged from the woods next to the road. He looked up and smiled at Mary.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

He raised the gun and aimed.

“Run!” Mike yelled at Mary, stepping between them.

Hank looked at Mike and his eyes widened. He stepped backwards, away from the ghost.

“He can see me,” Mike shouted and ran toward Hank. “You son-of-a-bitch, you tried to frame me.”

Hank dropped the gun and jumped in the truck. Mary could hear the ignition grind, then Hank gunned the engine and tore down the road. Mike followed, hovering over the ground and matching his speed with the truck, the rope that still hung from his neck waving in the wind.

Mary stopped at the edge of the road and watched. Hank was swerving back and forth on the road, driving at breakneck speed and Mike was right behind him. Suddenly, at the bend in the road, Renee stepped out. Her face blue and distorted, her hair and clothes dripping wet. She moved directly in front of the oncoming truck.

Hank swerved and the truck left the road. It dove into the ditch, rolled over and finally careened into a giant oak tree. A thick low-hanging branch shattered the windshield and plunged into the cab of the truck.

Moments later, Mike reappeared at Mary’s side. “He’s not dead,” he said, “But he won’t be going anywhere on his own.”

“Thank you,” she said, “You saved my life.”

“I couldn’t let him...” he began.

“I know, and you didn’t,” she said, “I’ll make sure he gets blamed for your death, as well as the others.

“And Mike,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Your secret is safe. Your legacy is safe.”

Mike smiled. A tear ran down his distorted face. “Thank you.”

Mary leaned back in her chair. Three days later and she was still stiff and sore. She needed to get an easier job.

“So, how are you feeling today?” Rosie asked, as she entered Mary’s office. “Still aching?”

Mary turned her chair and nodded. “Yeah, I still can feel where my muscles are,” she said, “Each and every one of them.”

“Good!” Rosie said with delight.

“I thought you were my friend.”

“No, no, I mean wait until you see what I bought you,” Rosie said as she dug into her oversized purse.

She drew out a small white jar. “This is a..,” she brought it closer to her bifocals, “a unique herbal remedy that heals the body and the soul in only twenty-four hours.”

She looked up. “Imagine that, Mary,” she said, “Both body and soul in twenty-four hours.”

“Wow! What a deal,” Mary said, “Both body and soul. What more could you ask for?”

Rosie narrowed her eyes. “Are you making fun of my unique herbal remedy?” she asked.

Mary tried to hide her grin. “No, never,” she said, “I mean, wow, twenty-four hours to take care of everything. Took God a whole week.”

Rosie sniffed. “Well, at least you could try it,” she said, handing it to Mary.

Mary nodded, opened the jar and sniffed. She coughed and quickly tightened the lid. “What is this made of? Yak poop?”

Rosie grabbed the jar. “It can’t be that bad,” she said, twisting the lid and holding the jar next to her nose.

“Oh, my,” she said, her nose wrinkling as she screwed the lid back on quickly. “I think I’m going to demand my money back.”

Mary smiled. “I think that’s a very good idea.”

“Maybe I could swap it for some lovely rocks that you lay on your body and they absorb your pain,” she suggested.

“Or, you could just get your money back,” Mary said, swinging her chair back to her computer.

Rosie nodded and sighed. “You’re just not any fun anymore.”

Mary heard the door close and sighed. Rosie was right; she wasn’t much fun right now. The head of the forensics team Bradley sent out to the fort called earlier that day. He told her they had found the remains of the girls and would be contacting their parents.

The remains of Jessica had already been found and her memorial service was scheduled for the next day. Mary hadn’t decided if she was going to attend. She had met with Jessica and the other girls the day after Hank had been taken into custody. They had said their good-byes and she knew they were already where they were supposed to be.

The families would be the ones dealing with the grief and pain.

“Which is better, hope or closure?” she wondered aloud.

“Closure,” Bradley said, from the doorway.

Mary jumped at his voice, then turned and smiled.

“Good to see you on your feet, Chief,” she said.

Using a wooden cane, he limped into the room, the small cast on his foot leading the way. He lowered himself into a chair. “I needed to get out of my office for a few minutes,” he said, “And I wanted to make sure you heard about the girls.”

She nodded. “I got the call this morning,” she said, “Thanks for moving it along so quickly.”

“Well, Montague was in no position to deny that he had confessed to the murders,” he said, “He’s still babbling about seeing ghosts.”

Mary smiled. “Imagine that.”

Bradley chuckled for a moment and then his face turned thoughtful. “I didn’t want the families to have to wait any longer. Now they can finally move on.”

Mary nodded. “I can’t imagine what those families went through for all of those years,” she said, “How do you go on with your life?”

Bradley sighed. “You go on because you have to,” he said, “Because if you don’t, you will go crazy.”

“You sound like you have experience with this kind of thing,” Mary said.

Bradley shrugged. “I’ll tell you about it sometime,” he said, “But now I have to get back to my office.”

He hobbled over to the door, stopped and turned back to Mary. “Are you ever going to tell me what went on in the back of Hank’s truck?” he asked. “Something tells me that it’s important to remember, but my memory is still fuzzy.”