Page 50 of Dark Roads
“Checking out already? Was there a problem with the room?”
This was when Beth was supposed to explain why she was leaving and where she was going, but Beth felt the gaze of each victim on the posters lining the wall behind her in the breakfast room. She’d gone in yesterday for juice and a muffin, when Rhonda wasn’t working, and she’d been so shocked by the display she’d walked out empty-handed. Every woman who had ever gone missing or been killed in that area had her photograph neatly pinned on the bulletin board, with little cut-out hearts, poems, snippets of quotes, and angel wings.
“No, no. The room was fine.” She slid her card over to Rhonda, pretended to be focused on her cell phone while Rhonda ran it through the machine.
“Huh,” Rhonda said, and Beth looked up. Rhonda pressed some more buttons, then glanced at Beth. “Seems to be a problem. Insufficient funds.”
“Can you try half?”
Rhonda ran it through again. “Looks like that’s okay.”
“I’ve got cash.” Beth pulled her tips from the week out of her purse, dumped them onto the counter. “That’s another one hundred. I’ll get the rest from the bank right now.”
“Listen.” Rhonda’s voice turned confiding. “I get it. If money’s tight, we can work something out.”
“Oh, no. It’s not like that. My last credit card payment just hasn’t gone through yet.” She waved her hand through the air. Like, you know, she’d been so busy. The thought of owing Rhonda anything made her uncomfortable. “I’ll be right back.” Beth pushed out the door, walked briskly to the ATM at the truck stop. She winced when she saw her bank balance. She was barely making her student loan payment.
She paid her motel bill, forcing herself to tell Rhonda that she appreciated her sensitivity and discretion during this difficult time, then she drove straight to the nearest secondhand shop. There she found a tent, a camping chair, pots and pans, a propane stove, water bottles, a cooler, and some storage containers. She bought the rest of her supplies at the general goods store, picking out whatever was cheapest. A thin sleeping bag, backpack, hiking boots, a compass that she didn’t know how to use, and bear spray that she hoped she would never have to use.
She’d wanted to set up before dark, but by the time she picked up a few groceries and a six-pack of cheap beer the sun had already disappeared behind the trees. When she passed the billboard at the end of the highway, she couldn’t look at it, couldn’t stop wondering how many times Amber must have driven past the same warning. Did she think she was safe because she was in a car?
Beth’s shoulders were tight, and her jaw clenched when she reached the campground. Here Amber had spent her last night. Here she had laughed, swum, and drunk with friends. Here she had kissed Hailey for the first time. Beth had been in her Vancouver apartment, unpacking her take-out sushi with the cell pressed to her ear, smiling as she listened to her sister describe the outdoorsy, quiet girl she’d fallen for.She picked me a bouquet of wildflowers.
Beth hadn’t realized how dark it would be at the campsite, how the old-growth trees and foliage blocked out the starry sky, any hint of a moon. She bumped down the narrow gravel road.
Campers sitting around propane fires turned to watch her, men with baseball hats and beers in their hands, families. She found an empty spot at the end of the campground and parked.
With the engine still running and the doors locked, she reached into her purse and found her prescription bottle, twisted open the lid, and slipped a pill under her tongue. She waited, took long, slow breaths, thought of Amber.The lake is so clear and fresh. When I swim there, it’s like everything gets stripped away.
When Beth’s heart stopped racing, she grabbed her flashlight and got out. The site was small, probably only twelve-by-twelve feet, with a rustic brown picnic table. Was this the one her sister had sat on with Hailey? She would look at the photo again and try to match the view.
No one was camped on either side of the site. The flashlight picked up a thin trail leading to the lake. She pushed through the thorny shrubs a few feet until it broke out onto the lakeshore, water coming up over her flip-flops. There was no beach, no sand. The trees ended directly at the water. Across the lake, cabin lights stood out like glittering stars. Someone was softly playing a guitar. Warm water lapped against her shins. Crickets. Voices carried from the other campsites, laughter, children. She closed her eyes and listened, reminding herself of what it felt like to be a family. To be whole. She swayed her body, drifting with the waves, letting the night breeze move her hair. Her thoughts had made her melancholy, but she didn’t mind. She preferred it to the hard edge of grief. She was tired, though, she now realized.
Mosquitoes attacked her arms and legs as she made her way back to her car. She didn’t want to walk around searching forthe bathrooms, so she went behind a bush, then brushed her teeth with water from her bottle and spit into the dirt. She rolled out the sleeping bag, spread it over the backseat, and fluffed a pillow that she’d “borrowed” from the motel. She stayed in her shorts and tank top and kept the windows down a few inches, enough to let in some air and a few wayward mosquitoes that she squished between her palms, then removed with wet wipes.
The gun was hidden under the back of the driver’s seat, loaded, with the safety on. She whispered good night to Amber’s photo and tucked it under the visor, then stared out the side window into the dark and munched on a protein bar, washed down with a lukewarm beer, until she stopped listening to every noise and her eyes felt heavy. Until her mind couldn’t hold on to any more worries and there was no danger of nightmares. Only velvety, soothing blackness.
CHAPTER 20
Beth climbed out of the car and slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops she’d left by the door. She rubbed at her arms, surprised by the morning chill, and glanced at the lake. Mist floated across the surface in a sheer curtain, draping over the dock and the shore, making it seem as though the trees were rising from the air. As if the campsite wasn’t already creepy enough.
After digging a hoodie out of her bag and wiggling into a pair of sweatpants, Beth walked to the washrooms—gun tucked into the hoodie’s front pouch, making it sag. She took note of the other campers. She was the only one moving around so far. Closest to her, three trucks were parked in the same site. One with a camper, then two tents. She heard snoring. Judging by all the beer cans on the table and the dirt bikes in the back of the trucks, it was a group of guys.
She nudged open the bathroom door with her foot, then stood back in case an animal came rushing out. Silence. She crept in, hand on the butt of the gun, and checked under each stall. She didn’t like the washroom, the plastic skylight, the dingy light bulb that blinked off and on. When she pulled back the thin shower curtain, a spider scurried across the black rubber mat.
She would use the toilets, but she’d shower later when everyone in the campground was awake to hear her scream for help. For a moment she thought she heard something rustling outside of the building. She stopped, her head cocked, but she didn’t hear the noise again.
Beth walked back to her site, staring at shadows in thebushes. A stump looked like a bear and a fallen tree had her panicking that it was the outstretched body of a cougar. She stiffened, every muscle in her body contracting to a hard rope. Then a small bird landed on the fallen tree.
She hurried the rest of the way. Coffee. Food. Sanity. She lifted the lid on her stove and studied the contraption. For the next fifteen frustrating minutes she attached and reattached the valve to the propane bottle, but the burner kept making a clicking sound and wouldn’t light. She’d filled the air with so much propane she was praying she didn’t blow the campsite up. She slammed the lid back down, then sat on top of the picnic table and ate handfuls of dry cereal.
She’d never put up a tent before. The poles kept sliding apart when she tried to thread them through the small loops, and she had to start over three times. She didn’t have a hammer, so she used a rock to slam the pins into the ground. She loaded her duffel bag into the tent.
When she lifted her cooler out of her trunk, it sloshed with melted ice. She pulled out a soggy egg carton, and it tore in her hands, sending a few eggs to smash on the ground. She used the hard edge of a cup to scrape up the mess and dump it into her firepit. Now she had gross eggs oozing over top of half-burnt logs. She kicked dirt over everything.
She stared out at the lake, watching the mist drift away, and scratched at the welts on her arms. Of course sleeping next to a lake and near a slow-moving, algae-covered creek would bring mosquitoes. Swarms and clouds of them, apparently. She bent over and slapped at one that was happily sucking blood from the top of her foot. She would have to buy repellant in town.
Still leaning down, she frowned at some marks in the dirt. Paw prints? She studied them closer. Definitely paw prints. She stood up. They led to the bushes by the creek.
