CHAPTER 21
Her words added to the confusion, and questions about Sam’s mental state were clear with the passing looks amongst the group surrounding her. “Sam, Jess and Colton just told us that it was arson,” Everly delivered as gently as she could, trying not to further upset her, for fear it was some kind of break down.
Sam, unaware of just how obtuse her declaration was, gave Everly a what the fuck
look, like she was the one not making sense. “The car wreck, the fire, Dawson’s tires, all the weird things around the house—none of it was an accident!” Sam struggled to get through to her friends, wishing she could just play them the highlight reel dancing around in her head right now. “Even the night here, the pillow over my face. She was wrong, it wasn’t friggin’ PTSD or whatever. It was real, I remember the headlights…I remember that night!”
“Slow down Sam; start at the beginning for Blake and me. Let’s figure this out,” Morgan patiently said, anxious to hear the details that just might give them the break they were hoping for.
“I knew that accident was connected, but Morgan and I couldn’t piece it together without your input; let’s put it together,” Blake offered.
Sam continued slowly, as if she was delivering an ordered story, as if she were hearing it for the first time herself; truth be told, she was. “You already know about the things happening around the house before the accident—lights on, TV’s on, water left running, doors unlocked, and even open. I thought I was losing my mind, distracted.”
She looked to Dawson, who sat a little taller and gave her a proud grin. The thought that he caused her to act like a love-struck schoolgirl did his ego some good. Their knowing exchange didn’t go unnoticed by their circle of friends. Their chuckles, followed by a sigh, and a “for fuck’s sake” from Jessie, brought them back to the present quickly. The mood immediately shifted as it became clear by the look on Sam’s sullen face that she was reliving her nightmare, frame by frame, sharing her memories from the night she should have died.
“I was on my way to work; took the back road to avoid the rodeo chaos through town like I always do. I remember seeing headlights show up in my mirror and wondering where they came from since there isn’t a road or house along that stretch for several miles.”
Blake chimed in, interrupting her story, pointing out a possible clue. “You take that road to work almost every day? He might have been waiting.”
“Like he had been watching me?” Eyes wide, Sam paused while she let that thought settle in – someone had been watching her. “I feel sick. I can’t believe this is happening.”
Taking a minute to collect herself, she continued with a shaky voice and tattered patience. “I saw the lights; they were getting closer, fast. I thought it was a tourist or someone a little too fermented from the rodeo. I slowed a bit, pulled to the shoulder slightly, so he could pass. He pulled up right behind me and flashed his lights at me. I waved for him to pass, but he honked and bumped the back of my car. I didn’t know what to do. There was nowhere to go, and I screamed as he pushed my bumper again…”
Lou Shaw, seeing her girl’s fear and anxiety brewing, sat beside her, held her hand, and rubbed her back with her free hand. Sam started losing composure, emotions overwhelming her as she recalled the events of that night. “It’s okay girl. You’re safe, honey. Take your time.”
Sam looked down, trying to catch her breath and composure, wanting to share every scary detail as vivid, real, and frightening as they felt. She wanted it to be over. Meanwhile, Dawson felt a fury like never before, teeth clenched, face red, one hand holding Sam’s, granting support and comfort, while the other rested in his lap in an angry hardened fist that he couldn’t wait to use.
She gave a smile, ever so slight, finding confidence in the strength he was shedding for her, and continued sharing. “After he hit me the second time, I sped up. I tried to get away, but there was nowhere to go. So I just floored it, hoping to get to town, or maybe lose him. I didn’t have my phone next to me; it was in my bag in the back, so I couldn’t call. I…” She paused to take a deep breath and remind herself where she was and who she was surrounded by. For weeks, all she wanted was to remember, to feel complete. Missing that event and the several weeks that followed, in a coma, left an eerie void that haunted her, but remembering left an eerie sense of fear. Reciting the series of events was like reliving every terrifying moment. She was recounting, reliving, and reconciling her emotions from that frightful night, all at once.
“Sam, what happened next? Let us help you; tell us how to find him,” Colton replied, eager to help his friend. Colton Sparks was a man’s man, a mighty fine one at that, but underneath all of that machismo was a genuinely loyal man with a very loving heart. Sam didn’t doubt for one minute that he meant every word. He wanted to protect her too, and seek justice from whoever was behind this.
Sparks was a family guy. He wasn’t shy about his desire to find a girl, make her his, and have as many little Sparks as she would give him. Sam wanted that for him and found his intensions and presence heartening.
With a thankful smile for Colton, Sam continued, “I had sped up, so he did too. I swerved right to left, and so did he. I almost lost control, so I hit the brakes. I thought maybe I could turn around since I was closer to help if I went the other way. But I didn’t have to because he kept going.”
“If he kept goin’, how’d you hit the tree, Sam?” Blake asked. He was a dear friend, but right now, he was investigating a crime and fishing for details, all business, so he and Jameson could resolve this for their friend. “How was this intentional, not an accident, if he drove off?”
Stuff like this just didn’t happen in their small mountain community. Being an ex-army ranger or whatever he was – no one really knew – worked in Sam’s favor as he turned every last stone, peeled away every last layer. He wasn’t your typical rural Barney Fife. He felt that too familiar pang in his gut. They were close to finding answers, and that chill down his spine told him this was about to get bad and very ugly. His instincts never failed him. He mentally prepared himself for the big, dark, reveal and hoped it didn’t haunt him like his past.
“I sat on the roadside for a minute, collected myself,” Sam continued, bracing herself for what was coming, remembering her near death account. Her memory was flowing like a cool mountain spring, pushing its way to the forefront. She wished she didn’t have to remember her near end.
“I got back on the road headed here, and that’s when it happened. I was going faster than usual. I wanted out of there. I noticed oncoming headlights, but it was pretty dark at this point, so I didn’t realize I…” She was trying to push through the fear, to finish telling her story. She was struggling, the memory so vivid, the terror so fresh, “…didn’t know it was that car, again, not until it was too late.”
“When he was just a short distance ahead of me, he switched to my lane, head on. That’s when I realized it was him…it was that car again. It stunned me at first, then I reacted, last minute. I saw nothing but bright lights, and I swerved. I was going so fast, and that must have been when I hit the tree.” She finished, searching the room, not sure what she was searching for, questions, concern, maybe even judgment. “I remember a scream, a loud, haunting scream. It must have been me; the scream was from me. That’s all I remember, until I woke up here.”
Emotions ran high as the group of professionals surrounding a victim of a crime, struggled to maintain composure as her friends. The horror of the crash scene, graphically relived and brought to life, was now darker tainted with an eerie state of terror and unknowns. Hurting for their friend and loved one, motivation brewed and an eager willingness to vindicate Sam became the shift in emotion around the room, especially for Dawson.
The idea of this person carefully calculating each move, watching her, targeting her, drew out the most primal, protective instinct he had experienced or even knew he possessed. God help whoever this animal is, if he should cross Dawson’s path first.
Blake burst back into the hospital room after taking a call. The look on his face was one of determination and duty; he knew something. Was this the break they had been waiting for? Each was focused on him as they all stood at attention, ready to react to whatever Blake had to share, except Sam; unease showered her as an anxious vibe tuned her into what was likely going to be the worst day of her life. She all but panicked at the idea that Blake had her attacker’s name written on the pad he palmed.
“What is it, Coop; what do you have? I know that look,” asked a bright-eyed Morgan, reading her partner like a book.
“Sam, what can you tell me about the vehicle the night of the crash?” Blake quickly questioned, all attention shifting to Sam, hopeful she had the answer he was looking for.
She looked down as if sorting through the memories to find the answer he needed. “It was dark, maybe black or charcoal?” Struggling to recall the finer details that she hadn’t yet reconciled, she continued, “The windows…they were dark; I couldn’t see inside. It was some sort of small SUV.”
“That’s good. Can you remember anything that marked the vehicle, like a bumper sticker, something on the antenna or hanging from the rearview mirror?”
“I can’t, I guess I didn’t really think to look for anything like that. I’m sorry, Blake,” Sam concluded, words full of defeat.
Blake searched his notes, frustration evident as he searched for the link in Sam’s accounting of that night and what he discovered. “Well, that doesn’t make any frickin’ sense. I thought this was it, damn!”
“You thought what was it? What did you find, Coop? Maybe it’ll make sense to one of us,” Jessie replied, determined to help solve the mystery, and without a single curse word or insult. Shit just got real.
Blake turned to Dawson and questioned him, in order to bring light to the situation. “Remember when you were down at the house, you asked about Rene?”
Dawson nodded, eager to hear what Blake uncovered. There wasn’t any reason to suspect Rene of anything, except that chill that made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention and the familiarity everyone experienced with her but couldn’t put their fingers on.
“After we left Sam’s, I looked into her like you asked. I felt that same unease, not sure why, but was unsettled by it,” Blake admitted. “It took some digging, but this is what I found. It doesn’t explain things today, but it’s definitely worth taking the next step and digging deeper, maybe.”
“Out with it Coop. What the hell did you find, Jesus!” Jessie said what everyone else was thinking; enough with the vague chatter. Get to the point.
“Rene Garcia isn’t from here, as you already know, but we all have crossed paths with her before as Rene Torres.” Mystery flooded Blake’s words while patience ran thin. How did each of them cross paths with her before? On the edge of their seats, they listened, hanging on every word. “Do you remember that landslide last summer, after that odd storm we had? Took out Highway 30?”
“Oh, where that log truck took the hit, jack knifed, lost his load, and wiped out a shit load of cars?” Jessie, even with sensitive issues, lacked a sensitive filter. But although crass, her callous depiction brought the events to the forefront of everyone’s minds. Nobody would or could, for that matter, forget that disastrous day. It was the worst any of them, or the town, had witnessed… such a colossal tragedy.