Thirty-Two
Evan arrives in a jeep five minutes later, the headlights so bright they hurt my eyes after so long in the soft light of the watchtower. He examines my hand first. He’s gentle, but even his slightest touch makes me wince. I still can’t believe someone did this to me.
“I think you’re gonna be okay,” he says. “Let me get you patched up at the ranger station, and then I can drive you back to your campsite.”
“The ride’ll be quick,” Evan assures, coaxing us to an easy under-twenty miles per hour as we move through the back roads around here.
I take in our savior as he drives. Evan is maybe twenty-five but could pass for someone who goes to our school.
He’s pale despite how much time he must spend outdoors, no stubble on his face, the only signs of his age being a receding hairline pushing his wheat blond hair away from his light eyes.
His forest ranger uniform is wrinkled, almost as if he fell asleep in it.
He doesn’t speak any more on the five-minute drive back to the ranger station.
We step out of the car, every inch of space around us stretching on into oblivion.
But it’s better than staying in the tower, wondering if our attacker will return.
Evan will have a way to protect us beyond just the cabin if the killer comes back.
If we have the choice, I’d rather have walls between us and the murderer.
As we walk, I repeat the facts back to myself. Natalie trusts Evan. Anywhere that isn’t out in the woods is better than being out here. We’ll be back at the welcome center soon. We’ll be able to leave town with our evidence soon after that. This is all going to end soon.
But as we move closer and closer to that soft yellow light popping through the windows of the ranger station, I can’t help but think of the candy house in Hansel and Gretel. Are we fools to think there’d be anyone to save us?
Once we’re inside the station, Beck asks, “Do these doors lock?”
“Yes, of course they do,” Evan says, beelining to the door. Beck slides to the side so Evan can push the lock shut.
I wait for the click of the mechanism before I start breathing again.
“So, tell me what’s been going on with you two,” Evan says, lingering in the doorway.
Beck and I exchange a look, my chest tightening once again. If things go south, the two of us could take him. Honestly, I think Beck could take him all on her own.
But that also means that if the killer returns, he’s too weak to protect us.
Does he have any weapons in here? Natalie has a gun, so he must too, right?
“There was something weird going on in the woods,” I say. “We thought our lives were in danger.” Another look at Beck, but I can’t read her expression. “From a person.”
Evan looks around before settling his gaze back on us. “Here, let’s get you two settled in and work on your hand. We don’t have to stand and talk.”
He steps deeper into the ranger station, which is more compact than Natalie’s setup.
The whole thing has a rustic, genuine log cabin aesthetic: wooden panels against the walls, scuffed brown wood that looks lighter than it is because of all the scratches, all brown as far as the eye can see.
A soot-covered fireplace sits in the corner along with an old leather couch and accompanying chair.
The kitchen barely has space for a fridge and stovetop, a large desk occupying a corner of the room.
Equipment sits on the desk’s surface, maps spilling out down the sides.
Every place to sit is littered with some kind of fabric, blankets and jackets and pants.
It should look cozy, but all I can focus on is the fireplace, imagining how easy it’d be for this place to go up in flames. It’s ironic, considering how traumatized this town was by a wildfire.
“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks. “I have water, coffee.”
“Water’s fine,” Beck says.
Beck and I find seats on the couch together, our knees touching in some unspoken attempt to stay as together as we can.
He returns with water, dropping the cups too hard on the coffee table and causing the water to splash.
An apology spills out of his lips, but it’s so quick that I can’t make out the actual words he uses.
He shakes the water off his hands as he returns to the kitchen and pulls out bandages and antiseptic.
But before he gets to work, he sets his handgun down on the coffee table. I know it’s a practical thing, that he needs to lean over to me and doesn’t want the gun to knock against me, but seeing it there makes my stomach clench.
I shift in my seat before speaking. “Natalie told us that you’re not from here.”
He kneels in front of me and starts applying the antiseptic to my hand.
“No, I’m not.” I cringe as the sting hits; it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a cut cleaned, and I forgot how strong the pain is.
“I took any ranger job I could find as soon as I was out of school. I had no idea where this national park was, but I’ve been here for a few years now. ”
Beck crosses her arms. “So you know about all this witch stuff everyone’s always going on about.”
“I do.” He swallows as he wraps the bandages around me. “I know about all the murders no one will talk about too.”
My heartbeat picks up, pulsing all the way to my injured hand. The bandage is tied super tight, almost too tight. He’s the first person in town who’s used the word murders. It’s not until this moment that I realize how desperately I needed someone to put it into those terms.
I lean forward. “What’s really been going on?”
He moves to stand beside one of the windows, looking out into the darkness of the forest beyond this little space.
“It wasn’t happening for a while. Decades, they said.
But a couple times every century, someone hears the witch legend and starts hurting people because of it.
It’s like Whac-A-Mole. The local authorities rule things as accidents.
If the national agents get involved, then they’ll make an arrest, but someone else always repeats the cycle.
” His jaw tightens. “They’ve started up again.
With those girls who died here last fall. ”
My body tenses like I’m being told a scary story, and every reminder is like a nail to the head. This is real, this is real, this is real. And it all really happened to the three girls who were constant figures in my life for three years.
Beck sits up stick straight. “What do you know about what happened to them?”
“I know some college kids told them about the witch legend when they were all checking in for the night. I know they disappeared from their campsite sometime in the middle of the night. I know they didn’t die from falling down a ravine.
I’ve seen a lot of falls in that area, and no one has sustained those kinds of wounds.
And the animals? They don’t take whole fingers and ears and leave the rest. A human is the only animal who cares about those parts first.”
The room goes in and out of focus. Déjà vu falls over me. My hand is throbbing again. I take a sip of water; maybe I’m woozy. Even the water tastes wrong.
Beck’s ease dissipates as Evan says the last word of his explanation. She grips her seat so hard it whines. “Why the hell didn’t you tell the police that?”
Evan winces, positioning his body closer to the window, away from us. But he does manage to look Beck in the eye as he replies. “Why? So their killer can just come after me? I know this town. They won’t save you if you mess with their witch.”
Silence fills the tense air. I look between the two of them, uneasy for each of their reactions.
Evan’s our best source on what’s happening and one of our few allies.
We can’t afford to have Beck go off on him.
As for Evan…I don’t know him enough to know if he’s an angry type.
Beck opens her mouth, but Evan keeps talking.
I touch my throat with my good hand, as if the tension is actually making it difficult to breathe.
His nostrils flair before he says, “Telling the police was always your job, anyway.”
Somehow, the vice grip from the emotion swirling around my neck grows tighter.
What does he mean our job? We met this guy less than twenty minutes ago. We’ve only been dealing with Natalie. Hell, I only learned his name yesterday when we were planning to go on the hike.
When did we talk to him before now?
My stomach goes cold.
I know.
Evan’s one of the few prominent outsiders in town besides Natalie. Evan felt like he couldn’t come forward with information. Evan seems like the kind of coward who’d start two girls down this investigative rabbit hole and disappear right when someone in town told him to stop.
He’s the texter.
This should be a moment of triumph and calm. We finally found the only person in this town who believes my friends deserve justice. He wants to expose this town for their evil just like Beck and I do.
But all I feel is a wave of queasiness.
“You’re the one who brought us out here, aren’t you?” I ask. “You’re the one who sent the video Paisley made and told me to talk to you.”
Evan’s shoulders shrug as he breathes. “I am.”
It’s only now, stuck in this cabin in the middle of nowhere, when only one of us has a gun, I ask the most important question.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “How did you even get that video?” I ask.
“I had her phone.” Evan settles his gaze solidly on his hands. “I found it in the watchtower but didn’t want it on my person. If someone in town found me with it, they could—”
My veins start to buzz.
I was right about the texter all along.
Beck leaps out of her seat. “So why the fuck didn’t you turn it in to the FBI? That’s my dead sister’s fucking phone. Are you really that scared of this hick town?”
Evan grabs the gun from off the table.
My stomach drops to my shoes.