One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (free e books to read TXT) 📗

them. And finally her mind itched to take a peek. She moved her body to the edge of the bed and walked across the carpet, until she stood in front of them.

She stared down at them. They were all identical except for one, pointing north when all the rest pointed south—it was the only compass that differed, the one found at the second crime scene. She had known this, but it had always seemed odd to her. It was like looking at a row of perfectly planted bushes around someone’s lawn, and one being significantly shorter than all the rest, making one wonder if it was intentional or not. In a way, it was—that much Tara was sure of because each compass pointed in the direction of the next crime scene.

But what Tara questioned was why the killer went north after killing the first two victims, only to move south again after killing the third. It seemed as if he were creating a pattern, moving south down the trail, but that one murder—that one victim who somehow got away before he shot one final arrow into her back—was a kink in it all. She wondered if it irked him—it had to.

It didn’t make sense why the victim was found north either. After all, she was supposed to be moving south and had already passed through the area where her body was found. Of course, she could’ve gone back up north to visit the waterfalls that she learned from the women at the campsite, but Tara couldn’t help but feel that that was unlikely. She had left the campsite and then hiked south to Hanover, so why after reaching Hanover, would she then make the decision to turn around, prolong her trip, and hike past the campsite? If she wanted to see the waterfalls, wouldn’t she have gone before visiting Hanover?

Tara floated those thoughts in her head until another struck her with full force. What if the killer caught her right after she left Hanover? He had taken all the bodies of his victims, except for hers. Was it possible that he tried taking hers too, and then she got away? Tara rolled it over in her head over and over again as she stared down at the map. That crime scene was the furthest north. If her theory were right, then that would mean the trail killer was bringing the bodies north. And then another thought struck her like a bullet—that would mean he was bringing the third victim back alive.

Tara’s heart thumped against her chest. Could he have just been wounding his victims? And then bringing them somewhere else to finish them off? She contemplated that thought as she studied the map. There were numerous towns north of Hanover, and her heart sank. She had no idea where she would even need to start, and if her theory was right, she needed to act fast.

But another thought surfaced in her mind. It was the girl from the information center. She had given Tara her personal number and Tara knew she might possibly know how to narrow her search. After all, the girl knew the trail well.

Tara checked the time. It was still early—5:45 AM—but she didn’t have a choice. She scrambled for her wallet, where she had placed the slip of paper with the woman’s number hours earlier, and then dialed it into the phone.

She didn’t answer at first, but Tara called back a second time and after the phone rang for five seconds, an agitated, groggy voice spoke.

“Hello?” she said.

“I’m sorry to bother you this early,” Tara started before explaining who she was.

“It couldn’t wait another hour?” the girl replied. “I thought you already arrested James.”

“We did, but I’m not calling about that.”

“Then what could it be about?”

Tara remained quiet for a moment, wondering if she’d already gone too far. But her instincts clung to her mind, desperate not to be ignored.

“I’m not sure if James is guilty, and I want to be sure,” she blurted.

The girl was silent on the other end and then spoke. “To be honest, I was a bit surprised when I heard the news. I didn’t think he was a murderer, but then again, you can never be too sure.”

Her words only fueled Tara further. “Are there any entry points to the trail in New Hampshire, just north of Hanover?”

“There’s a ton,” the girl said before naming a few.

Tara needed to narrow it down. “Any entry points that have a connection to a compass maybe?”

But the girl only confirmed that she didn’t know of a connection.

“Does a setting or rising sun ring a bell to you?”

The girl was quiet and Tara was about to check if she was still on the phone, when she suddenly spoke.

“There’s the Sunset Bed & Breakfast,” she confirmed. “It’s right off of the Smarts Mountain Trail, which is connected to the Appalachian Trail. I used to recommend it to a lot of hikers that wanted a place to spend the night and get a hot shower. It closed down though, but supposedly they still live there.”

“Who’s they?” Tara asked.

“Just some guy and his mom. It’s been a family business for years and it used to do very well, but the father died a couple years ago, and then everything kind of fell apart. The mom’s memory started going, they were swamped with doctor’s bills, they couldn’t keep up the place, and then the son kinda lost his mind.”

Tara loosened her hand on the phone. She hadn’t even realized how hard her grip had become.

“How so?” she asked.

“He would kind of scout out hikers on the trail and try to convince them to stay, and when they refused he would get all pissed. A couple people complained. He even called me once and yelled at me, said it’s my duty to recommend his crumbling bed and breakfast.”

“How long ago was this?” Tara asked.

The girl thought for a moment. “Right before it went under, a little over a year ago.”

Tara