The Hidden Paths to Power (2 page)

I knew Ryan was smart, so it didn’t surprise me, when the Aurora Police Department declared, they couldn’t afford to assign twenty-four hour protection anymore, and Ryan still hadn’t been found.

When I returned to school, I cried for the special assembly and the candlelight vigil held for Karen and the others who died.

Lisa came back as well, though she’d be walking with a cane for a while. One piece of metal cut her leg open and when she fell, the leg had been fallen on by another student, and had a minor fracture. She was in a walking boot and the cane just made me tear up, every time I saw it.

My friends, their parents and my parents, worked hard to get me to stop taking any blame, but I couldn’t help it.

We setup a routine that had Megan, Erica, Lisa and I being carpooled to school. My mom would be the driver as she was the only stay-at-home mom. Rebecca Boller didn’t mind as it meant she could make sure we got to school. We would take different routes every day and my mom would pick the route randomly in the morning, so no one could guess which one she used. It was nerve-wracking to have to take extreme measures to stay safe but until Ryan was found, we had to do it.

The next time Ryan became a problem was during the summer after our sophomore year. He’d been on the run and my father told me, the police think, he might be responsible for several thefts at local ATMs. I was sure it was him as he had the knowledge. This meant he was collecting money to live on and building up cash for something.

He still hadn’t let his obsession with me go. I listened to the counselors and the police that what Ryan had was a sickness, so I tried and for the most part was successful, at letting my anger go. I was just living in fear.

I started to develop my hate for Ryan with the next event.

Megan Donahue, the other blonde in our group, was going on a vacation with her parents. I thought this was a good thing because the farther they were from Ryan, the better I felt.

Unfortunately, Ryan decided to use the fact, Megan wasn’t glued to my hip anymore, to cause me more pain. I wouldn’t find this out until later but he harbored jealousy for my friends because they got to be a part of my life and he didn’t.

Detective Harold Cramer’s brunette head appeared in my doorway the day Megan left on her trip. She and her parents never got out of Aurora, on their journey to visit relatives in Arizona. The detective had to wait until I calmed down enough to hear the details.

A witness reported seeing some kind of fast moving machine, come out from under a parked car, and move under the vehicle my friend and her parents were riding in.

The explosion was felt by neighbors four blocks away.

I lost my other friends as well. When Erica’s and Lisa’s parents heard, they immediately accepted witness protection and were whisked off, to wherever they were transferred. I was given five minutes to say goodbye then they were gone.

My parents transferred me to a new school but I knew, it wouldn’t matter. Ryan was too smart.

My father went nuts. Though he wasn’t allowed near the case; both for it being a local matter and that he was my father; he investigated anyway. He had friends in his office come to our house, to sweep it from top to bottom for electronic eavesdroppers. He bought me a new computer and had his friends in the bureau setup the security on it.

Agent Tim Boller tried to think of everything he could to protect me.

The problem was, I wasn’t the one in danger. Everyone I cared about around me was. Ryan’s obsession with me, and his jealousy of anyone I allowed near me, put everyone but me at risk.

How does a newly made sixteen year old handle it when she knows everyone around her could be taken from her?

I did the only thing I could think of. I tried to find Ryan myself and do whatever I had to, to make sure those who were left were safe. I didn’t hide it. My father wasn’t happy but wouldn’t deny me the right to be protective of those around me.

I talked with the police and offered myself as bait, to try to draw Ryan out of hiding. They setup up a couple of heavily watched scenarios, to give me a chance, but Ryan wouldn’t be baited. In fact, my efforts to see him caught seemed to make him worse.

Three months after Megan’s murder, I woke up and got ready for school. I came down to the breakfast table to try to eat something as my appetite was virtually nonexistent.

My father showed me a message he got from Detective Harold Cramer.

The editor for the Denver Post received an anonymous warning that three bombs would be set off in random locations, if I wasn’t at the mall in Aurora, isolated and alone, in an empty parking lot, at 7:00 in the morning the next day.

I collapsed and passed out. The lack of food and the stress caused me to go into a coma for two days. It had a dual blessing in this situation.

The police publicized my health issues, to try to send a message to Ryan, about why I wouldn’t be at the mall. This kept the bombs from being set off and I think, Ryan got the message, I wasn’t handling this situation well.

The second blessing came in the form of my community coming to my defense. I had thousands of cards showing up at the hospital and hundreds of visitors all with the message that I wasn’t to blame.

When I was shown this, I finally started to harden and found the will to take care of myself. When the doctors pronounced me fit enough to go home, I started doing what I used to do.

Many people at school were hesitant to be friends with me but the two people I found, who were brave enough, became my lightning rods for sanity. I worried about them but they were each like me. They had parents that were so worried about their safety, they had them in classes to protect themselves, since they could walk.

Tina Smith and Debra Lickney formed my world.

Ryan hadn’t stopped being a problem for me. He was just giving me a break so I could get healthy again. I was the person I had always been. I was nice, I had fun but I had one new part of me.

My hate for Ryan Gilpatrick.

This situation was unique in the details but familiar in the type of problem it was. I had a stalker, who was smart enough and skilled enough, to cause problems for an entire community, if I didn’t give into him. He committed murders as a result of his obsession. This was all familiar danger; something the police could understand and try to combat.

It wasn’t until I graduated high school and moved on to college that my story took a weird turn. This odd turn of events would eventually lead me back to the situation I described at the beginning of the story.

I must take a moment to swear, what I say here is true. I know most people don’t believe in real magic; the kind where spells and wands and the like were used. I didn’t either, until these things became a part of my life.

It started in my freshman year at Colorado University. I was beginning my journey to follow my dad in the FBI. I took the classes for criminal justice and behavioral analysis, getting high marks and much notice from my professors. I didn’t mind that my professors used my case in class for teaching.

Ryan Gilpatrick hadn’t left my thoughts completely but slipped to the back of my mind, as I hadn’t heard about him since his bomb threats.

It was during the third quarter, the weird events started, and Ryan came back into my life. I think the reason I hadn’t heard from him in so long was, he had to setup a base of operations, and collect the money to work on his favorite project; hurting me. My pain wasn’t what he was looking for, only my attention, but from my perspective, it seemed my pain was what he wanted.

Somewhere in his life, Ryan’s focus changed from the mechanical to the mystical. Somehow, he managed to find his way to real magical power.

The other thing about him that was different, since the last time I saw him, was he changed physically. The scrawny little tech genius had grown up and filled out. I won’t say he became gorgeous but he definitely improved in that area.

I was leaving the campus on a Friday, to visit my parents for the weekend, when he approached me.

I didn’t recognize him at first, as it was hard to match up the decent looking brown-haired, blue-eyed guy in front of me, to the boy I’d known, then noticed the large freckle, under the left eye, near the nose, that had been with Ryan since I knew him.

I felt fear but anger was the prominent emotion coursing through me, “Get the fuck away from me!” I yelled this loud enough to draw many concerned looks from those passing by.

I saw the rage on Ryan’s face before he ran, “You will be mine!”

He got away but I was on my cell-phone with the police in seconds. The campus had to endure a full scale hunt for Ryan but he vanished. When they were done, I went to my parent’s house and huddled in misery, inside the protective arms of my mother.

My father was just beside himself because, neither his efforts nor the police, had been enough to find him. This confused me, until I found out, how he’d been able to elude capture.

The following weekend, I was enjoying myself at a party on campus. I didn’t drink but loved the atmosphere and felt secure in a large group setting.

I met a guy I liked well enough to kiss. I wasn’t ready to give myself to anyone but this raven-haired guy, Tom Walters, was the first guy I met that had the potential for romance later. The feelings I was having, also drove all thoughts of Ryan Gilpatrick out of my head; to my shame and Tom’s detriment.

Tom invited me to take a walk with him outside and though I was a little nervous, I agreed. It was February so we bundled up and I even allowed him to hold my hand, as we talked; getting to know each other. When I said I was getting a little too cold, we started to make our way back to the party.

Ryan literally appeared out of nowhere in front of us and pointed a real, honest-to-God wand at Tom’s chest. Without a word, a bolt of green light left the wand and I watched; as if in slow motion; the energy slam into Tom, burning his heart from his chest.

Ryan gave me a look of rage for one second then disappeared again.

I ended up in a mental ward for six months after.

Seeing Tom killed in front of me, and not being able to convince the police of the means Ryan used to do it, put me there. They believed Ryan was responsible but were sure, it was more of his technical genius rather than magic. They said, the stress and trauma made it impossible for me to gauge the situation rationally.

I knew what I’d seen but after six months, I allowed the psychiatrists to think, I was accepting that, I didn’t see, what I thought I saw.

For three months after I left the mental hospital, I buried myself in my parent’s house. I didn’t go back to school and my dad told me not to worry about it. He said I could pick up my life after Ryan was caught.

The problem was, if what I saw was real, the police would never catch him, and my life would always be a misery. For those three months, I thought of everything Ryan had cost me, and my hate for him became a burning passion. I wouldn’t allow him to change me from who I was. My hate only had one focus.

I started researching magic. I felt a little foolish but couldn’t deny what I saw. I became obsessed with the study and two weeks of sifting through what I could find online, I found three people in the Denver area that seemed to have more than a mild interest in the subject.

Of course I had a problem. I believed Ryan left me alone at my parent’s house, and left them alone, because he’d seen what happened, when those closest to me were harmed or killed.

I worried about what would happen, if Ryan found out, I was looking to challenge him. I didn’t want to put any more people at risk but needed help.

Fortunately, one of the three I found, would provide that help.

I went to the first two and discovered, they were firm believers in magic, but without the means to truly help me. I had to be circumspect because I didn’t want to leave many crumbs of knowledge behind of what my intentions were. It was risk enough that I was entering these people’s homes.

If Ryan guessed what I was up to, he might start eliminating those who might help me. I never knew where he was or when he was watching me.

When I met Doriane Lavoie, I was worried she would be like the others until the first time she said anything to me.

I walked into her little shop that was filled with charms, powders, incense and all the normal things you find in shops like these. She sold the same books that could be found online. The store was small, with just enough mystique, to tantalize those who like to pretend they were involved with the real thing. Three other customers were looking over the items.

I felt a little disappointment as I walked to the counter.

Then the gorgeous, raven-haired mystic behind the glass case, containing the jewelry and two small knives, asked in a low voice, so the other people wouldn’t hear, “How did you get a tracer put on you?”

I saw the concern in her brown eyes, “What tracer?”

“Someone has put a locating spell on you to keep track of you.”

This scared me as I knew who had done it. I also wasn’t surprised she didn’t recognize me. My story was semi-public but my face wasn’t the one frequenting the news. Ryan’s was. I was brought up on occasion as a connection to him but most of the time, his face was the one people saw, when the police were asking the public for help in finding him. So far, no luck.