I pulled out Lauren's diary next. It felt wrong to read her personal thoughts, but as I fanned through the pages, I told myself I was only keeping an eye out for Jude's name. I had to know how he was connected to her, but the bad feeling in my gut told me I already knew.
Going dancing tonight. Watch out, Jackson Hole. It's gonna be one of those nights. plan A: Get drunk. plan B: Do something I'll regret. plan C: Get arrested. Bonus points if I manage all three. Can't wait to see the look on M's face tomorrow. I'll know I've failed if she doesn't burst into tears at least once during dinner. Well, I'm off-wish me luck!
XO, Lauren
That was it. Lauren's diary ended abruptly on April 17 of last year. No mention of Jude.
It wasn't until I pulled the final item from the canvas bag that my hands started to shake in earnest. A heart-shaped gold locket. I dimly remembered watching one of the press conferences related to Lauren's disappearance on TV. Lauren's father had held up a sketch of a heart-shaped gold locket that Lauren had worn every day since she was a girl. He was adamant she would have been wearing the locket the night she disappeared.
It was now obvious why Jude had gone to great lengths to keep the contents of the bag secret. The evidence was indisputable.
I recalled a conversation I'd overheard between Jude and Shaun. Their words had bothered me initially, but now that I could put them into context, they chilled my blood.
I'm in charge, Ace. I brought you along to do one job; stay focused on that.
Followed by Jude's disturbing response: We've been working together for almost a year. Think of everything I’ve done for you.
A year ago, Lauren Huntsman vanished. Had Jude been involved? Had he murdered her? Was that was his job description-killing?
Had Jude charmed Lauren first, like he had charmed me?
My head began to reel. A sour, sick feeling tickled the back of my throat. As I remembered kissing Jude, I felt like I'd been doused with ice water. I remembered lying beneath him, trapped by his body, the closeness of him almost overwhelming. I remembered his hands under my shirt, stroking-everywhere. I'd shivered then, and I shivered now. I felt dirty. What if he'd planned to seduce me, then kill me?
I never should have trusted him.
I was still rattled five minutes later, when I finished shoving Lauren's belongings and Jude's supplies into my backpack. I looked everywhere for Calvin's map, but Jude had taken it with him. Never mind the map. I knew Idlewilde was less than four miles from here, on the other side of two glacial lakes connected by a narrow strait. The water would be frozen, and I could cross the strait on foot. I was scared to hike the forest alone, but I couldn't stay any longer. I had no way of mending the canvas bag. Jude would know I'd found his secret. And it would change everything.
I hefted the backpack onto my shoulders. I meant to leave quickly, but something caused me to pause outside the entrance to our hideaway.
My insides squeezed at the sight of the crushed branches that had served as our bed. I thought of the many subtle ways Jude had helped me during the past few days, especially when Shaun was alive. He'd deflected Shaun's anger and encouraged me when I'd been on the brink of despair. He'd tried his best to make me comfortable. Was someone capable of such kindness also capable of such savagery? Did I really believe Jude could have killed Lauren Huntsman?
My mind traveled back to the evidence. If I tried to make excuses for Jude now, I really was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. I'd tricked myself into believing I knew him. I'd looked past the hardened criminal and invented a romantic tale of a tortured hero in need of redemption. What a grave error in judgment.
No more excuses. The evidence was truth.
I walked hurriedly in the opposite direction from where I'd seen Jude go. He had the map, but I had the supplies. He was an expert tracker, but he wouldn't last long without water, blankets, a fire starter, and headlamps. plus, I was counting on him being gone a while longer. Last time, it had taken us hours to hunt for food. If I got enough of a head start, I could beat him to Idlewilde.
From there, I'd call the police. And tell them Lauren Huntsman hadn't drowned in a lake. She'd been brutally murdered, and I had a pretty good idea where they could find her remains.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The mountains had never felt more hostile or inhabitable. A freezing cloud pressed down through the trees, painting the landscape in a strange casing of ice. The dense forest blocked out the sunlight, creating a dank darkness where twisted silhouettes of winter-bare trees played tricks. I saw skeletons with reaching arms and flashes of scowling faces in their marred gray trunks. A bitterly cold wind shrieked over the ground, kicking up snow like a frenzied herd of ghostly horses. The evergreens swayed uneasily, as if they knew something I didn't.
A hand snatched at my coat and I whirled around with a gasp, only to find a gnarled bush with thorny, untamed branches hooked in the fabric. Untangling myself, I swallowed nervously. I hurried forward, blindly beating away the cold, wet branches. With every step, I felt eyes on my back. The fog licked my skin, and I gave a convulsive shudder.
Bears and wolves. I thought of them as I slogged over the snow that last night's wind had swept into steep, formidable drifts. Each peak reminded me of a wave, frozen in icy whiteness a moment before it crested. The endless drifts and gloomy vapor made visibility difficult, so I kept my compass at my hip, consulting it constantly. Every now and then, the chilling wail of wind caused me to stop and glance over my shoulder, the hairs on my body raised.
Soon my muscles cried out in exhaustion. My last meal had been yesterday, and I felt weak and disoriented with hunger. It was too easy to imagine shutting my eyes against the lashing wind. But I knew if I rested, my thoughts would slide into a dangerous dream. One I'd never wake from.
My gloves were wet. My boots and socks too, the ice making my toes and fingers feel brittle enough to snap off. I flexed my hands, pumping blood to warm them. I rubbed them together, but I didn't know why I bothered. Eventually the pain would dull to an itchy numbness, and then I wouldn't feel anything. . . .
No. I was grateful for the sharp, stinging pain. It meant I was awake. Alive.
The snow and rocks slipped out from under my feet. When I failed to catch my balance, it was my backside that ended up wet. Each time, it took longer to drag myself upright. I dusted the snow off my clothes, but this too seemed pointless. I was already damp and shivering.
As I crested one wooded slope, another rose up behind it. And another. Behind the dense gray clouds, a bleak orb of sunlight made a slow trail across the sky. It reached the height of its journey, then began to sink toward the west. I'd been walking all day. Where was Idlewilde? Had I missed it? I didn't know whether to press on or circle back.