Page 6 of Fight Or Flight

Natalie would have rolled her eyes at Speeler’s audacity, but she feared the tears welling up would fall. So she put the instructions into the envelope and slid it into the front pocket of her suitcase.

Unsure what to do, she sat on the floor for a few more minutes. She’d sworn to herself that she’d never return to Mapleton. The place held too many memories—and people—that she wished to avoid. But Elizabeth had asked specifically for this. There was a time when Natalie had needed someone, and Elizabeth had been the only person on earth who was there for her.

She was certain that, despite the private investigator’s warning, she could run forever. But she wasn’t so sure she could live with the guilt of denying Elizabeth her last wish.

She looked at the bed, then at the door. She was so tired. Her eyelids so heavy. Maybe she could just lie down, sleep for a few hours, and figure out how to get out of this without the guilt later. Maybe she could get a hold of Chelsea and ask her to do it. She was probably still in Canada.

Then a thought occurred to her.

It was only an eight-hour flight from Heathrow to Pearson, another hour’s cab ride to the Monroe property in Mapleton. The Monroes had built the manor on a sprawling piece of private land, tucked away from town. She could stay there, and no one would be the wiser. Plus, it had twelve bedrooms. If she left right then, she could spread Elizabeth’s ashes, catch up on her sleep, and still be back before her tour left in five days.

It would be tight, but she’d travelled more hours than that in fewer days before. She could do it again.

She picked herself up off the floor, grabbed her suitcase, and walked back through the lobby, barely stopping at the front desk as she slapped the key down.

“Give me a refund. I’m not staying.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked out the door.

two

Agreat sense of relief washed over Ethan Pierce as he pulled through his hometown of Mapleton, Ontario. He loved everything about the town, from his favourite café on Main Street to the sandy beach where he and his friends spent their summers growing up. But the best thing about Mapleton was his family.

He smiled, thrilled to be back. He’d left three weeks ago on a research trip to a remote area in the Hudson Bay lowlands. It was a trip he made every year with a group of thirty scientists from all over Canada. Most of them were researchers and professors, like him. They went every spring as soon as their semesters ended and the worst of the ice had melted.

Some of them were experts on climate change or studied patterns of migratory birds. He was there collecting data on the health markers of the overall ecosystem. Besides the scientists, a team of guides accompanied them, armed with machine guns and keeping watch for polar bears.

He was happy to be home, where the threat of being eaten alive was almost nonexistent.

Ethan smiled as he turned down his street. It was in a pleasant neighbourhood, with friendly people. He’d moved there two years ago, into a small home he bought off of his parents’ friends’ mother. It was small, but it was only him living there, so he liked it well enough. He’d been working with Adam, his best friend since childhood, to renovate it. It still had old lady vibes, but it was coming along well. He especially appreciated the little house after roughing it in the woods with no electricity or running water.

He couldn’t wait to take a shower.

He passed by an older lady who lived two doors down from him and waved, but she looked away and sped up. He’d been optimistic that the drama he’d left behind would have blown over by the time he returned. Maybe he’d been too hopeful.

Or maybe he was overthinking it. She probably didn’t recognize him. He reached up to his face and scratched through his thick, dark beard.

He turned the corner, expecting his little old house to come into view, but instead of the red brick walls and black shutters, all he could see were trees. Several dozen trees, in fact, packed onto his postage-stamp front lawn.

“What the . . . ?”

He drove along slowly, in a daze, staring at the trees instead of the road. As he got closer, he remembered he’d put in an order for trees and native bushes right before he left. They were for a project he was working on over the summer, but he’d specifically scheduled them to be delivered after this weekend.

When he pulled into the driveway, the trees gave way to a view of his front porch. Standing there were his sister, Amy, and Adam in the throes of an argument.

They stopped as soon as he hopped out of his truck. Amy gasped as her jaw dropped.

Adam laughed. “Guess you’ve never been here when your brother gets back from his research trips, eh?”

“Ethan!” Amy shouted. “You look like a sasquatch.”

He looked down at his grimy clothes and dirt-caked nails. Then reached a hand up to feel the ends of his out-of-control hair. “What did you expect?”

“I expect my brother, my man of honour, to look civilized! I’m getting married in three days, Ethan!”

He closed the driver door, then opened the back door and pulled out a case of beer he’d brought back, holding it out for Adam. “For your services.”

Adam’s smile broke out as he reached for the case. “Tipped Canoe, Churchill Manitoba,” he read on the side of the case. “This is the best beer in Canada?”

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