The Acadia Killer

Chapter 2

The pads of my fingers raced over my keyboard as I typed up responses to email after email. Most were inquiries submitted online. They asked my advice on everything from what was the best hiking trail in the Grand Canyon to what time of year is best to visit Kenai Fjords. I ran a website dedicated to my photography and travels, regularly updating it with new images and articles detailing my experiences on the road. I loved conversing with my subscribers. It helped fuel my desire to further my career any time I received positive feedback from a random stranger. I felt like I was really connecting with people and that gave me a warm fuzzy feeling.

Finishing up my replies, I turned my attention to the list of photography spots within Acadia National Park that I'd jotted down earlier. It consisted of about seventeen locations which I hoped would provide me excellent views to capture. I was already inspired, having seen the fall foliage flaring up all around me on the drive to Maine. I knew this was the perfect time of year to visit Acadia.

My phone dinged with a reminder that it was time for me to head out and start my Acadian wilderness journey. I'd been so engrossed in my computer, I hadn't even noticed the time. It was just passed seven o'clock and I'd planned out four locations to check out on my first day, starting with the Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse, one of the most picturesque spots in the park.

I hurried to throw my hiking bag together and put a blank memory card in my camera. I always started off a park journey with a new card – I took that many photos that I needed to. The sun was just starting to come up and I wanted to make it to the lighthouse by the time sunrise was in its full glory, illuminating the structure perfectly.

The chill of the morning air was a bit startling when I stepped out the door onto the deck. I took a deep breath of ocean air in and savored the scent for a moment before making my way down to my truck. Yesterday's playlist automatically resumed when I turned on the engine and my mood picked up immediately at the sound of Michelle Branch's lyrics to Breathe flowing through the speakers. Good music was always a good way to start a day of exploration.

I was careful to back up, what with the gravel driveway not being as accommodating to a larger vehicle, and I inched my way passed a large evergreen that looked like it had been in that spot for over one hundred years. The familiar sound of rocks thumping at the undercarriage returned as I gradually made my way back out to the main road which led right to the entrance gate of the park. One right turn and a couple minutes later, I found myself in line with all the other early birds who wanted to catch the sunrise over the ocean.

Fishing through my hiking bag, I retrieved my wallet as I pulled up alongside the ranger station. I rolled my window down and waited to hand the ranger my annual parks pass.

The window on the shack slid open and a tall, broad shouldered man with jet black hair that peeked out from under his Smokey Bear hat in little whisps smiled at me. From what I could see peering into the tiny shack, he was probably a few years older than me with a strong build and the dark shadow on his jawline told me he hadn't shaved in a couple days. He was handsome and his long sleeve uniform shirt seemed to fit him in all the right places, the forest green material hugging his biceps in a tantalizing way.

"Good morning, ma'am," his smooth voice seemed to tease my ears, and for just a split second, I forgot how to respond.

"Good morning," I returned the smile, reaching out to hand him my pass.

Our fingers brushed as he took the card from my hand, and I bit my lip when his eyes seemed to give a subtle sparkle. They were a rich shade of dark green – the kind of color that could make your breath catch in your throat when the morning light glossed over them.

He gave his keyboard a quick couple of taps and handed the card back to me.

"Do you need a map of the park?"