Page 78 of The Catcher
On the desk, a laptop sat alongside a vintage typewriter and a stack of journals, each a repository of thoughts, dreams, and musings captured in ink. The desk was cluttered with trinkets and keepsakes, each holding its own story and memory.
Callie thumbed through one of the journals. Her head began to shake. “The bullying went on for months. She never told anyone,” she said, flipping the pages and reaching for another.
As she was reading, something on the wall caught his eye. It reminded him of a vision board his daughter had created, full of cut-out pieces of magazines and art, all fragments of hopes and dreams. Except this wasn’t that. These were all photos of Elizabeth and her father taken at locations around High Peaks.
“Callie,” he said.
She cast a glance over her shoulder. Noah pointed to each of the photos. “Hiking through High Peaks Wilderness, standing at the top of Whiteface Summit, swimming at the high school, eating ice cream in front of the telephone box, attending camp at Lake Colby, visiting John Brown’s Farm, touring the Olympic Museum, and…” As Noah’s gaze fell upon the last photo, it all began to make sense.
Noah’s gaze drifted to a poster on the wall, the typewriter on the table, and a worn-out copy ofThe Catcher in the Ryeby J.D. Salinger on her bed. Noah picked up thebook and noted that various pages had been tabbed in five chapters. He flipped it open and noticed the underlined text. He lifted his eyes and glanced at the front cover, then the final photo of Elizabeth and her father on the wall.
“Of course. Of course! They’ve got the wrong location,” he said, hurrying out of the room and placing a call to McKenzie.
27
It was a dizzying height. The Olympic Jumping Complex loomed over McKenzie, a towering structure built for the 1980 Olympics, featuring jumps that surpassed even the Empire State Building and Big Ben in height. McKenzie was surrounded by police cruisers, their blue and red lights casting an eerie glow against the night sky. High above, a police helicopter circled, its blinding spotlight illuminating the darkness.
McKenzie braced himself against the wind while on the phone with Noah, trying to make himself heard over the chaos. Terry’s voice echoed in the background, filled with impatience. “I will try, but he’s a stubborn bastard,” McKenzie said into the phone before hanging up and striding over to Terry.
“Braithwaite,” McKenzie called out, determined to make his point heard.
“I told you, not now,” Terry snapped back, his attention elsewhere.
“You’ve got this wrong. The kid was a friend of Elizabeth Anderson. Her father murdered these teens. That kid up there is just traumatized. Let me go up and speak with him.”
Terry scoffed dismissively. “Like hell.”
“He’s going to jump,” McKenzie insisted.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Terry replied callously. “Would save us a lot of paperwork.”
Frustration boiled over within McKenzie, and he grabbed Terry by the arm. “Listen to me, you prick! You are going about this the wrong way. Unless you want to find yourself trying to crawl out of a civil lawsuit because an innocent teen jumped to his death, stand down!”
“Stand down!? Who the hell do you think you are? State supersedes the county sheriff’s office. Now, back off before I call your superior,” Terry threatened.
McKenzie met his gaze, his resolve unyielding.
He released his grip and walked off, running a hand around the back of his head. He didn’t do well with heights. It was one of his fears, if not his greatest fear, since childhood. Just looking up made his legs wobble. Why anyone would leap off a jump in skis was anyone’s guess. It only cemented what he believed: that people were batshit crazy.
McKenzie glanced back at Terry, then looked up again.
“Screw it.”
He moved quickly, crossing the lot before he could be noticed.
McKenzie stood at the base of the towering structure, his gaze fixed upward on the daunting silhouette againstthe night sky. The Olympic Jumping Complex loomed before him, its imposing presence casting a shadow over his resolve. With a deep breath, he steadied his nerves and approached the lift, his heart pounding with apprehension.
As he stepped onto the platform of the glass-enclosed lift, McKenzie couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. He glanced around, half-expecting shadows to leap out from the darkness, but the only sound was the soft hum of the lift machinery coming to life.
With a faint shudder, the lift began its ascent, slowly carrying McKenzie higher and higher into the night. The ground below slipped away, swallowed by the darkness, and McKenzie’s grip tightened on the railings as his fear of heights threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to focus on the teen, pushing aside his unease as he ascended toward the summit.
As the lift climbed, the city lights twinkled in the distance, painting the night sky with a soft glow. McKenzie glanced downward, only to quickly avert his eyes as a wave of vertigo washed over him. “Aye, shit!” He clenched his jaw, willing himself to remain composed despite the rising panic threatening to consume him.
He took deep breaths.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the lift reached its destination, stopping at the top of the 120-meter tower. McKenzie stepped out onto the observation deck, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him as he took in the breathtaking view from the summit. The city stretched out below,a glittering jewel against the dark canvas of the night, and McKenzie couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe despite his lingering fear.
Nearby, the youth was over a railing, arms behind his back, clinging to the rail. He glanced toward McKenzie. “Don’t come any closer.”
