When the five o'clock news report rolled around, I was parked on the couch, anxiously awaiting any updates on the homicides in Acadia. The top story, to my dismay, was a rockfall on a nearby highway that shut down the road. The thunderstorms had caused some flooding which sent boulders tumbling down the cliff. I sat through ten minutes of news before the blonde all-business-no-smiles anchor shifted the conversation to the park murders.
"And now, we do want to bring you an update on the two homicides that took place in Acadia National Park in the last thirty-six hours," she began, gesturing to the big screen behind her where a field reporter stood on live camera, waiting to be introduced. "Megan Hillborn has the latest for us, live from the ranger station at the park entrance."
This was a different reporter from the one who had given the first two updates I'd seen. This girl was younger and looked like she was fresh out of college. I recognized the building she was standing in front of. It was right off the main road going into the park. There were ranger trucks parked in front of the building and a couple Bar Harbor police cruisers as well.
"Thanks, Christie," the reporter smiled at the camera and the cameraman panned out to bring a ranger into view standing beside her. "I've got park ranger Mike Crimson with me to tell us a little more about what the authorities have discovered so far."
She turned the microphone over to Mike, whose somber expression made my heart hurt. "Megan, our suspect is still at large, but thankfully, now we do have a suspect," he began. "A visitor to the park was able to capture a photo of the man whom we think committed these murders yesterday."
My heart felt like it did a backflip at the words leaving his mouth. I knew they were talking about me, and I knew they wouldn't tell the world that it was me who took the picture, but a part of me was nervous about them bringing it up live on the news.
The park ranger continued, "I think you have that to put up on the screen for your viewers. I'd like everyone at home to take a good hard look at the image on your screen, and if you think you've seen this man or have any information pertaining to this case, please contact local police or the park service immediately. This individual is described as being a white male, thirty to fifty years old, approximately six-foot-two, and wearing black jeans, a black hoodie, and black hiking boots. We think he's been in the park for at least a week, possibly scouting for victims and familiarizing himself with the terrain, so it's very likely someone would have seen this man and can provide us with a better physical description."
There it was on the screen right in front of me. My photo was on the news for all to see. The police had cropped the image to focus on just the figure in the trees, and the lighting and sharpness had been altered to produce a clearer result. It was still a bit fuzzy, and you really couldn't see any additional detail, in my opinion, but I was sure the police had ways of seeing details in images that the average person wouldn't notice.
My heart thudded in a harsh rhythm that elicited a ringing in my tears as the two people on T.V. continued talking. I was too busy staring, unable to blink, at my photo on the screen to hear what they were saying. Finally, the picture went away, and the reporter came back into view. She was nodding along to each thing the ranger said while trying to tame some flyaway hairs that kept falling in front of her face.
"Ranger Crimson, what is your advice to anyone currently visiting or planning a visit to Acadia while this suspect is still on the loose?"
The ranger turned his attention back to the camera and his expression seemed to harden as he briefly thought about his response before continuing.
"Megan, I'd advise that anyone who visits the park should stay extremely vigilant, especially if traveling alone. Do not travel through the park by foot at night. I highly recommend traveling in groups, as this individual is obviously targeting lone tourists. If you do happen to encounter our suspect, do not approach him. Get to a safe location and notify authorities."
Megan bobbed her head in agreement and turned the microphone back to herself. "And the National Park Service does want to remind travelers that you can find any information regarding park closures on their website. There are currently two trails closed to hikers due to the ongoing investigation. Back to you, Christie."
The blonde anchor came back on the screen, and I muted the T.V., suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. I couldn't listen to any more news. It was too emotionally exhausting already.
My phone ringing in the kitchen nearly startled me out of my skin and I rushed to grab it to silence the ear-piercing sound. It was Michelle calling.
"Hey," I said, tapping the speaker button and leaning back against the counter, my legs suddenly feeling too weak to hold my body up.
"Kenzie, you sound out of breath. What's going on? Are you okay?" she asked in a panic.
Her voice sounded a little far away from the phone and I heard a white noise sound in the background that indicated she was driving and talking to me via Bluetooth in her car.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied, knowing I couldn't fool her. She knew me too well.
"That's a load."
I rolled my eyes and turned around to rest my folded arms on the island. "Michelle, I'm sorry. I'm just shaken up over everything that's going on, you know. I just watched the news, and they had the photo I took on the screen and it just made everything so... real. That sounds ridiculous, cause of course it's real, but I guess the magnitude of the situation didn't fully hit me until I saw that, and now it's just got my nerves all wound up."
Michelle had always been my most understanding and caring friend. She could read me like a book and somehow seemed to always know what was on my mind or how I was feeling even before I did, and she would do everything she could to help me, no matter the situation. Granted, up until now, the situation had always consisted of a breakup, stress with work, or the rare financial blip when we were both trying to find our ways in life. Murder had never been something either of us expected to tango with, and I could tell by the tone in her voice it was really bothering Michelle that she didn't have all the answers for me this time.
"I'm so sorry, Kenz." Her voice was quieter, full of sympathy. "I hate that you're a part of this now. I really wanted this to be a fun, easy trip for you where you could actually relax for a change. I just hate that this is going on."
I didn't know what to say. I was mentally drained.
"Why don't I come over and we can have a girls' night?" she suggested. "I'll bring wine and romcoms."
The business-focused part of my brain automatically wanted to decline on account of needing to get more work done, but I knew she would come over anyway even if I said I wasn't in the mood, so I relented.
"That sounds good."
It didn't, if I'm being honest. I would've rather just flopped down under the covers and hidden from the world for the rest of the night. But I hoped the wine would loosen up my tensing nerves, and laughter with a friend would get all this homicide stuff off my mind. So maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea after all.
"Great! I'll see you in about thirty minutes. I just have to run by the store real quick."
We hung up and the ear-piercing silence suddenly filled the house again. The T.V., still muted, had the weather forecast on, and I noticed that the next three days were supposed to be pleasant and sunny before more rain moved in with a cold front. That would make photography a lot easier for me.
While I waited for Michelle to arrive, I decided to busy myself with work. I knew I wouldn't be getting anything accomplished for the rest of the night while Michelle was at the house, and since there would be wine involved, she'd probably spend the night, so I felt the need to seize the opportunity.
Opening the album I'd created of my most recent finished edits from Acadia, I scrolled through the gallery on my laptop to pick out two of my favorites: the sunrise at the lighthouse and an eerily beautiful shot of the misty forest before I'd reached the top of Beehive Trail. I opened Instagram and posted both photos to my photography account, making sure to tag the national park's account and a few of Maine's tourism accounts to generate more traffic. I checked my engagement stats and chose a recent photo from my posts to "boost" – advertising to a targeted audience – and smiled at the idea of how many new followers I would probably gain from people seeing my shot of Mount Shuksan towering behind Picture Lake. So far, advertising on Instagram had been a pretty good tool for my business.
A few minutes later, a knock on the door signaled Michelle's arrival. She couldn't let herself in on account of having an armful of wine, snacks, and DVDs. I laughed at her struggling tiny frame when I slid the door open for her.
"You got enough stuff there?" I grinned, watching her make a beeline for the island to set everything down.
Michelle shook her head and smiled, retrieving a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from her tote bag and beginning the hunt for wherever she'd hidden the cork puller from herself.
"I didn't know what you'd want so I brought a little of everything," she explained, opening drawer after drawer until finally locating the bottle opener.
I peeked inside the bag to see Chinese takeout from the same restaurant I'd gotten food at the night before, a stack of eight DVDs, four mini cans of Coke, two pints of ice cream, and a frozen margherita pizza. Knowing Michelle and me, we would certainly dig into a little bit of everything.
I lifted each item out of the bag, setting everything out on the counter. The stack of DVDs struck me as funny since I'd gotten so used to renting movies on streaming services. Netflix, Hulu and Apple T.V. seemed to be all I watched anymore, unless I wanted to catch the local news or weather during my travels, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd held a DVD. They seemed nearly obsolete now.
I held up the stack of eight discs and grinned in amusement at Michelle.
"Laugh all you want, but the satellite service is pretty bad out here," she explained while pouring two glasses of wine. "If you're lucky enough to get Netflix to open, it'll buffer about every ten minutes throughout a movie. That's why I tell everyone who rents this place to bring their own DVDs if they want to watch movies."
She handed me a glass and retrieved one of the small takeout boxes for herself. "I got chow mein, lo mein, and pad Thai since I didn't know what you wanted. Should I heat up the pizza, too, or do you want me to just toss it in the freezer?"
I shrugged. "May as well cook it. If nothing else, it'll be breakfast."
Yes, I was one of those cold-pizza-for-breakfast eaters, and margherita was my favorite.
After several minutes of debating over what to watch, we finally choose How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days – we were both huge fans of Kate Hudson – and we proceeded to go back and forth between pizza and Chinese for the next two hours, downing two thirds of the bottle of wine.
We talked about everything but the obvious, to my relief. I knew Michelle's whole plan was to get the murders off my mind, and so far, it was working. I hadn't given any more thought to the nightmare plaguing the park right outside my door. Maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea after all. I'd gotten enough work done during the day. I could afford to take a night off.
Once the movie was over and we'd dug halfway through our respective ice cream cartons, Michelle suggested getting some sleep, confirming my assumption that she would be spending the night. I didn't mind. Really, I was happy to have another person there with me, given how shaken up my nerves had been lately.
We said goodnight and I cleaned up all the mess we'd made with the food while she went to brush her teeth.
Finally, my mind had relaxed, my nerves had calmed, and I was feeling pretty good. I fell into a deep, restful sleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. It was dreamless, which did surprise me slightly. I wouldn't have been shocked if I'd had nightmares, given the ongoing trauma, but none presented themselves.
When I awakened at four a.m., I expected to see the sun coming up. I'd forgotten to set an alarm on my phone and assumed I'd slept in. I peeked out the window in my bedroom to see nothing but darkness surrounding the forest outside. There was a thick fog encompassing everything within sight and it gave a creepy, grey hue to the air. It was the kind of fog you heard people describe as being able to cut with a knife. It rightly gave me the creeps and I rolled back over in bed to check the time on my phone. 4:09.
Trying to go back to sleep seemed futile, as my body was ready to get up regardless of the time, so I padded down the stairs to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I figured I could at least plan out my day before Michelle got up. It was a weekday and she had to work, so I expected that she would be up within an hour since she had to drive back home and get ready to head to the office.
As I retrieved a coffee mug from the dishwasher, a light caught my peripheral vision and I looked up, expecting to see Michelle coming into the room, but no one was there. I glanced around the house trying to find the source of the light until I realized it was coming from outside. Then it turned off. Ten seconds later, a different light came on outside, not too far from the first one.
Frozen, standing in the kitchen, I waited in silence, listening for the slightest noise to tell me what was going on. It wasn't the porch light flickering because it was originating from different locations. That's when I remembered it was still dark outside – something was triggering the motion lights around the deck.