The Acadia Killer

Chapter 4

Despite how many times I argued with my brain that everything was going to be okay, I still had a terrible time sleeping. There was an old grandfather clock in the living room that chimed every hour, waking me up each time. It hadn't bothered me at all the first night, so I knew it was simply my nerves playing hell with me. Any little noise seemed to wake me up, especially when early morning thunderstorms started rolling in around five.

I rolled over to check the time and realized my alarm was going to go off in thirty minutes. Most days in parks, I would get up around five to start my day. You had to be an early riser to catch some of the views I often chased after. But the news of that woman's death still had me frazzled, and I'd probably only slept a collective hour and a half by the time the thunder began. At that point, I was so sleep deprived, I wasn't sure if it was thunder or the pounding pulse in my ears.

I decided to snooze my alarm and sleep in until seven-thirty. I couldn't do much while it was raining anyway.

Finally dragging myself out of bed, I rubbed my burning eyes as I stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee and finally take inventory of the fridge contents. Michelle had been so kind to stock the crispers with fresh fruit and vegetables, and the shelves housed eggs, a half-gallon of orange juice, plenty of electrolyte water bottles, coffee creamers, and several salad dressing options, among other things. There was even a fifty-dollar gift card for me to get extra groceries at the store back in town. She'd really thought of everything.

I retrieved the small carton of eggs and took out two, planning to make a breakfast skillet. Adding tomato, bell pepper and onion to the cutting board, the only thing I was missing was a potato, which I located in the pantry. I opened the fridge again to grab a small package of grated cheese when a knock at the glass door just like the night before sent all my hairs standing on end.

There was a tall figure standing on the porch, but all I could make out was the silhouette of a man through the curtain. I grabbed the butcher knife I'd laid on the cutting board and tiptoed towards the door when the man knocked again.

"Park ranger!" the man announced his presence like a police officer would, and that's when I recognized his voice.

I peeled back the curtain to confirm before opening the door. There stood Blake Henry, clad in the same tight fitting uniform as the day before. It fit him like it was tailored to the contours of his body – and it probably was.

"Good morning," he managed an awkward smile and raised an eyebrow.

I realized I was still holding the butcher knife and embarrassment suddenly slapped me, sending me quickly putting it away as he invited himself in, shutting the door behind him.

Normally, I would've thought that was uncouth, but I was pretty sure he shut the door because it was so cold outside, and he'd undoubtedly noticed my skimpy shorts and tank top.

"Do you always greet your guests with a giant knife?" Blake chuckled, the laugh making its way to his eyes.

I'd always had a weakness for men who could smile and laugh with their eyes.

I threw my head back with a groan and rubbed my tired eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm just shook up over what happened yesterday. I didn't sleep well and I'm here alone and-"

"Hey, no need to explain. I totally understand," he said sincerely as he fiddled with a button on his left sleeve. "How are you doing, though? Are you alright here by yourself?"

I sighed heavily and hoisted myself up onto a barstool. "I'm okay, I suppose. I just feel so guilty that I didn't try to intervene in that woman's murder."

Blake shook his head with a sad look on his face and glanced down at his boots momentarily. "It's a real shame, for sure, but you have nothing to feel guilty over. You had no part in it. If anything, your statement to Melany last night helped the investigation."