Chapter 76 #2
I nod, knowing if I don’t give him the order to essentially take a vacation, Bucky will throw himself so deep into work he’ll forget to come up for air. When he does, the tidal wave of emotions will obliterate him.
“Karson could be aware of the heat on him. If he is, he won’t be coming out of hiding until we lay off.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I huff. “I just wanted to find her. Rose blames herself. It’s eating her up inside.” That’s putting it lightly, she’s shredded herself into ribbons from the guilt, quickly becoming a hollow shell.
“No one’s to blame but Maximus,” Kyle says, flipping to another camera.
Shantel strolls casually along the outer fence line, eyes on the ground searching for any tracks or traces of disturbance. Her tracking skills were near supernatural, it was one of the many qualities that made her irreplaceable in this security position.
Suddenly, her shoulders start to heave, like she can’t catch her breath. Coughing, she doubles over, hands on her knees for support.
I think the worst is over when she stands upright again, pausing her sweep, looking out to the ocean.
Her right arm raises, crossing her body to land over her heart.
It’s hard to discern her actual movements with her facing away from the camera, but the way her arm moves suggests she’s pounding on her chest.
Her movements falter, arm dropping to her side, as she gracefully collapses into the grass. Her body lands precariously close to the edge, left arm falling over the ridge. The momentum and shifting weight slowly pulls her off the side, slipping out of sight.
“Call me crazy, but that didn’t look like a targeted attack.”
Kyle fast forwards through the storm. “I didn’t think so either the first time I saw it.”
“And now?”
Kyle rises from his seat, moving to the door. “I don’t know what to think.” He leaves me alone to watch through the rest of the footage. Nothing alarming happens. There’s no unknown person lurking around the grounds, inside or out.
I watch as Kyle comes out through the front door, crossing over the cobblestone to his dirt bike.
Upon noticing Shantel’s Porsche, he does a double take.
Pulling out his phone, he taps across the screen then raises it to his ear.
I assume he gets no answer as he brings it down and swipes across the screen again.
He walks with deliberate steps, looking from his screen to the ground under his feet then back again, tracking her location.
I find it slightly odd that Kyle is so worried about Shantel’s whereabouts. She could have easily changed her mind and stayed without telling him. Maybe he finally stuck it in her after all this time, and that’s why he was perturbed at the sight of her car.
Coming upon Shantel’s body, I watch as Kyle freezes in his steps. Clearly shocked and rendered immobile.
His body finally lurches into action, dropping to his knees and calling out to her. When he gets no response he jumps to his feet and darts away.
His figure runs through the many camera feeds across the computer screen. I flip to the interior feed, watching him dash down the hall to the control room, calling for Bucky.
Quickly, the two of them return to Shantel’s body. Kyle races to get ahead, fighting to hold Bucky back from diving over the edge. Bucky crumbles, screaming her name with no response, while Kyle prevents him from leaping down to tend to his departed family.
Clinging tightly to our friend, Kyle takes Bucky’s phone, raising it to his ear, calling me.
He’s using his phone as a flashlight to illuminate the area around them in the thick post-storm darkness.
Once the call connects and I answer, he passes the phone to Bucky.
I replay the call in my head, watching on the screen as his voice fractures in my ears like it’s happening at this very moment.
From there, they sit in the light sprinkling of rain, talking too quietly for me to hear. Bucky leaps up, taking off back towards Bleakcrest as Kyle follows sullenly.
Rewinding the footage, I watch Shantel’s final moments on a loop, looking for anything odd or out of place. It looks like she simply falls over dead after a heart attack. That would be highly unlikely for someone in their mid-twenties, but not totally unheard of.
Guilt worms its way beneath my skin as she rolls off the side of the cliff.
Not because I had anything to do with it, but because I don’t care.
Not in the way I should. I’m sad for my friend and his grief.
How in his late twenties he’s already lost his only two siblings, and when the time comes, he will have to bury his parents alone as well.
I hope she felt the same level of terror I did, locked in my past. The panic constricting her so tightly she thought her heart would explode as her chest caved in.
Shutting off the screen, I lean back in my seat.
Pulling a full unburdened breath into my lungs for the first time in what feels like ages.
I search for the sadness I should have at the loss of a life long friend, but there’s nothing.
Just the vacancy she left that lingers with the tang of betrayal.
Shantel’s death doesn’t feel heavy, it feels like divine intervention. Like after all this time, I’ve paid my penance for the wrongs of another life, and now I finally get to live without trauma’s chains keeping me down.