Number Seventy-Five (7 page)

Both of us were living the old adage about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer. Hell, we were so close we could have shared the same skin. She did her best to hide her anger, careful to control her voice, her facial muscles, and her words when around me. But the eyes aren’t so easy to control. Her performance was impeccable to others around her.

But I saw right through it, perhaps because I was playing the same role on the other side of the theater.

The press hounded us both for blood like a hungry tick does when looking to hitch a ride on the ol’ huntin’ dog. When they discovered the strange twist that involved our friendship, they were relentless. My father made national news when he was caught on film standing on his front porch early one foggy morning a few days after I arrived back. His hair had been mussed and his eyes full of anger as he clutched his shotgun in his hand and told the brazen young reporter from New York to get the hell off of his land.

There was nowhere to hide from their pesky intrusion, so all of us, including most of the population of Bainsville, just hunkered down in our homes and waited for the skirmish to end. The local restaurants mysteriously ran out of food when reporters walked in. The two motels were suddenly full. Doors remained closed and mouths shut.

I would lie awake at night locked like a prisoner in my house and peek through the blinds, waiting for the moment they packed up their shit and left after hitting the “small town” wall that had been erected. That didn’t happen quickly enough for me--or the entire town--so I took a proactive stance and let the bloodsuckers feast for a few minutes. I held an impromptu press conference on my front porch and gave them what they wanted—the gory details.

Soon after, the annoying trucks lumbered out of town, off to intrude and invade on the lives of the next poor “headline” newsmaker. A collective sigh of relief swept through the town when the last van disappeared out of sight.

But not through me.

I had taken a leave of absence from my job at Mercy General, unsure when, if ever, I would return. Sleep evaded me. It had been replaced by continuous pacing inside the walls of my home. My emotions ran the gamut, flipping violently from one end of the spectrum to the next. When the betrayal took center stage, I felt the urge to grab my parents and simply move to another town; away from the agony and memories of what happened. Away from the torture that continuously ripped at my heart, knowing my near death was orchestrated by my closest friend. Add on top of that, the shame I felt from not only joining a dating site, but then the stupidity of meeting a stranger face to face. I struggled with not only the betrayal, but my feelings of humiliation.

Another fun emotion that visited often was guilt. I had been a caregiver my entire career. I had devoted my being to saving lives, not taking them. I didn’t know how to live with the fact that I killed Samuel, even if it was thrust upon me in a split second, life-or-death situation. Kill or be killed didn’t ease the heavy sense of remorse for his death. The Bible didn’t leave an exclusionary clause under the commandment “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” I had been grappling with that baggage, so how would I handle actually plotting out and committing cold-blooded murder? Would my psyche survive? Would my soul be forever damned?

Then the rage would take over. As the red-hot fury burned through my thoughts, it wiped out everything in its path. This wasn’t just about me or my pain. There were seventy-four women who silently screamed for vengeance from their graves. Seventy-four women murdered and whose families now wore the permanent scar of their untimely and violent death. Seventy-four mounds of black dirt that haunted my dreams. These women deserved for me to be their voice of justice, so my rage won out and smothered all the other emotions in one giant gulp.

The cab pulled into the entrance of our bungalow, the jarring stop shaking me back to reality. My decision had been made, and the time had come to execute it.

“My God, Mandy. This place is amazing! You spared no expense, did you?”

I smiled as we exited the car.

“Nope. I wanted this to be the vacation of a lifetime!”

THE FIRST TWO
days were spent frolicking on the beach, drinks in hand and backs slathered with oil. While our skin cooked to a deep copper brown, our conversations were minimal and topics lighthearted. The deeper conversation that both of us secretly pined for would happen on our upcoming hike.

The hotel had put us in touch with a mountain guide who spent two hours telling us about our options. Which trail we should take. What we should expect to see on each one. He warned us of what dangers lurked on the steep climb, vehement that we not veer from the clearly marked path. We filled out the registration papers and each nodded and smiled, thanking him for the maps and headed back to our bungalow.

“I believe he thinks we are nuts for hitting the trail alone, but the last thing I want to hear is a chatty guide. I want to explore this place alone. With my best friend, of course.”

“Oh, you bet. We’re big girls and we can take care of ourselves. Besides,” I said, grabbing my backpack off the couch and handing Shawna hers, “he gave me the creeps. Guess I’m still a bit wary.”

A shadow of anger danced behind her blue eyes but quickly retreated. She slung her pack over her shoulders and then gave me a hug.

“Of course you are, hon. Who wouldn’t be? Even I am, after all that has happened. But let’s not talk about that now. Come on,” she said, tugging me out the door, “Let’s go explore! Wide open spaces baby!”

Ten minutes later, we were about to embark on our journey. We stood in front of the Waitukubuli Trail that would take us through the Morne Trois Pitons National Forest at the entrance of one of the most difficult climbs—Boiling Lake and Roseau Valley. It was early in the morning and the steam from the rainforest hung heavy around our feet. We each took turns hamming it up by the sign and snapped a picture of each other. We giggled at our luck since we were the only ones embarking on the rugged walk. We were just two happy tourists ready to explore the mountains filled with excitement around every bend.

The map said the hike generally took about six hours in total and the first stop was about an hour in and would have us standing at about 2,950 feet above sea level. The greatest perk was that it had a rocky outcrop that offered stunning views of the ocean and island. The small picture on the map was the perfect place to have our showdown. We both agreed that should be where we stopped and had something to eat.

I convinced Shawna to lead the way, acquiescing to her stronger sense of adventure than what I possessed. She agreed with a vibrant smile and led the charge to the peak. Sure enough, almost an hour later on the nose, we exited the deep canopy of the rainforest and found ourselves in the brilliant sun, the view of the island and shimmering waters panoramic.

“My God, ain’t this just the shit! Look Mandy, you can see the other side of the island from here!” Shawna gushed.

I glanced up at my childhood friend, her giddiness real, not faked. A few strands of her thick, honey-colored hair escaped the messy bun on her head, the tendrils swaying in the breeze. Her lanky, five-foot-ten frame jumped up and down like a small child as she took in the surroundings. The smile on her face threw memories of our past in front of me, showering me with visions of our thirty-plus-year friendship. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, the prom, learning to drive, our first double date, our first rip-roaring drunk and hangover flashed by. The hours spent gabbing on the phone to each other. Our marathon conversations started out in our youth about dolls and clothes, finally graduating to guys, sex, college and children.

Oh Jesus, I can’t do this.

The images of the woman I practically considered my sister disappeared, replaced by the graves and Samuel standing over the freshly dug one, ready to dispose of me like yesterday’s trash--on the orders of his big sister.

My lump subsided, and my resolve roared back. The stifling tropical air that permeated our earlier climb and weighed down my shields was blown away by the brisk trade winds.

Yes, yes I can. And I will.

My chest throbbed and I tried to mask the pain from my heaving ribs with a sweaty smile. I moved over toward the outcropping of giant boulders and set down my backpack.

“This is simply Heaven. The air is the most intoxicating mix of scents that I have ever smelled. I wish I could bottle it. I’d make millions.”

“Girl, you ain’t kidding! It sure is nice to be out of that creepy forest. I knew at any minute a jaguar was going pounce on us. I really didn’t like the idea of being a snack.”

Shawna plopped her pack next to mine and started digging through it, letting out a small squeal when she found her water bottle.

“There are no big predators on this island, silly.”

Well, except for the two of us.

“Well, I’m just glad to be out of there. It felt like a ton of bugs were crawling all over me.”

“That’s just sweat. You’re positively soaked,” I said, throwing her a towel from my bag. I began unloading the small blanket and sandwiches for our picnic, watching every move she made out of my peripheral vision. She was busy setting up her portable tripod for her camera at the edge of the rocks, finding it difficult to steady in the uneven terrain.

“Those are going to be great shots. Guaranteed postcard quality for sure. Images are always worth a thousand words, right?”

Tripod in place and steady, Shawna stood back and surveyed the visual. Satisfied she had the camera pointing in the perfect direction, she came over and sat down on the blanket and snatched a sandwich.

“Yep, they sure are. Just wait until I upload them on my blog. People will go crazy with jealousy.”

“You and that computer—it’s an addiction, isn’t it? You spend more time online than a gamer.”

“Um, you forget that I work from home. Of course I’m on the computer all the time. It’s how I make my living.”

I smiled at her while I took a bite from my apple and watched the puffy clouds in the distance merge together. They had turned from cotton ball white to dingy gray and the low rumbling of thunder was a warning that a storm was brewing.

I turned my attention back to Shawna. She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her irritation. Her throat muscles tensed and her pulse throbbed in her temple. I knew it wasn’t from our hike. She was ready to strike, but I was going to beat her to it.

“What exactly is it that you do online Shawna? I don’t believe you’ve really shared that with me other than you design websites, which you started doing while you recuperated from your accident. You aren’t hooking on the side for extra money, are you?” I laughed, knowing those words would strike an angry chord. The looks of shock followed by anger were shining like a beacon on her damp skin. She paused in mid-chew and just stared at me, her eyes searching my own to see what I was getting at.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that, right?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Takes one to know one. Isn’t that what they say?”

“Hey, I never claimed to be anything but. So,” she replied easing herself up off the blanket, “what about you? After your, um,
ordeal
, are you going to take any of those offers to hit the talk show circuit?”

I faked a stretch and stood up as well and chunked my apple core over the cliff to the waters below. “You know how much I hate those kinds of shows. No way. I have, however, been giving serious consideration to taking up the offer to write a book about it. Three publishers have contacted me already.”

Shawna’s eyes widened with shock, the black storm clouds that were moving in paled in comparison to the anger swirling behind her eyes.

“Are you serious? A book?”

“Yeah. The only problem with that option is writing that last chapter,” I said, casually walking over to my backpack.

“Why is that?” Shawna replied, her voice shaky.

I reached inside my bag and pulled out the knife I bought at the gift shop the day before and turned and faced my former best friend.

“Because it hasn’t happened yet.”

Shawna’s reaction was immediate. She took three halting steps back from me, her eyes wide with fear. It was the first time in my life that someone had actually cringed with fear at my presence, and it was rather intoxicating. She was only inches away from the huge rock that jutted out over the cliff.