Something wasn't right when I awakened just after noon. Blake was gone, nowhere in sight. Something didn't feel right.
The sticky remnants between my thighs of our morning escapades were now nothing more than an annoyance as I climbed out of bed, feeling my skin stick together. I needed a shower, but first, I wanted to know where Blake had gone off to.
Throwing on my dirty night shirt and panties, I noticed his clothes were no longer in a pile on the floor. Had he just left me after we'd had sex? I was on the verge of being angry at the thought of him leaving until I reached the top of the staircase and saw him through the glass door in the living room. He was standing on the porch, talking on his phone. I wandered down the steps and saw that he'd made a fresh pot of coffee, as well as pancakes and toast. A man after my own heart, I thought with a smile. But something still seemed off.
Venturing toward the door, I could hear bits and pieces of what Blake was saying on the phone and he sounded pissed. Then I heard the last thing anyone wanted to hear: the mention of the Acadia Killer. He'd killed again.
My blood ran cold at the words coming from Blake's mouth. He didn't know I could hear him as I stood in his shadow on the other side of the glass. I couldn't make out who he was talking to, but I hoped he would fill me in when he came back inside.
I listened a few seconds longer and then decided I may as well wait for details later, given that one side of the conversation was not near enough information for me to grasp what all was going on. I wandered back into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast before heading back upstairs and finding some clean clothes to take into the bathroom.
It didn't take me long to hop in the shower and wash away the remnants of the early morning adventures we'd shared. I spent a few extra minutes shaving my legs in case another round of fun decided to rear its head later on. Letting the warm water cascade over my body seemed to help wake me up, the steam invading my sinuses and taking some of the soreness out of my aching back muscles.
About the time I stepped out of the shower, I heard the glass door slide shut downstairs, signaling Blake's reentry. I toweled off my body and gave a sad excuse for towel drying my hair while I hopped around on one foot, attempting to get clean underwear on. Once dressed, I collected my dirty laundry and sauntered down the stairs, dropping off the towels and clothing in the washing machine on my way to the kitchen.
"Good morning," Blake smiled, biting into a piece of buttered toast.
He was leaning against the island, forearms resting on the granite. I could tell by the way his hair looked that he'd taken the opportunity to shower before I'd gotten up earlier. He was wearing a different set of clothes though, which made me wonder if he'd left to grab fresh clothes and come back. Surely, he wouldn't have done that though because he didn't have a key to the house. He wouldn't have left me alone with the front door unlocked, right?
"Did you go home and get fresh clothes?" I raised a brow, hoping he would say no.
He managed a chuckle, probably having a good idea of why I was asking and finished chewing before he answered. "No. I always keep a change of clothes in my truck. You never know when you're going to slip on a trail and fall on a bear turd in the woods and I'd rather not have said turd mashed into my leather seatback. And yes, I'm speaking from experience."
I burst into laughter at his explanation, which only made him laugh harder too. For just a moment, everything seemed perfectly fine. Watching this funny, handsome, kind man stand in the kitchen and laugh with me made all my worries go away, and that was priceless to me, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled and the way he looked genuinely happy to spend time with me, in spite of everything we were dealing with... It was something I could've only hoped for in my dreams until I met Blake. Now I fully understood what Michelle meant when she stressed to me what a good man he was.
I guess that line I'd vowed not to cross had become a little blurred at this point.
"The mental image is amazing," I giggled as I collected some utensils and met him at the breakfast table where he had already set two plates of pancakes and our coffee mugs.
Blake rolled his eyes with a grin and responded sarcastically, "Yeah. I aim to please."
"You certainly did last night," I said sheepishly, taking a seat across from him. "And this morning."
He raised a brow and his grin turned to more of a knowing smirk. "Did I?"
I didn't say anything else and found myself unable to stop smiling while I bit into a chunk of chocolate chip pancake.
"How did you know I love chocolate chip pancakes?" I quizzed him after swallowing a couple bites.
He shrugged and flashed that handsome grin again, sipping his coffee. "I may or may not have asked Michelle how to impress you while you were asleep this morning."
I shook my head and smiled like a little kid with a new toy. I made a mental note to thank Michelle for her input later. I hadn't had a good batch of pancakes in months, and this was a heavenly treat.
My pleasure was short lived when we both heard the echo of sirens in the distance. The trees dropping their leaves in between the evergreens allowed the noise to resonate at a greater distance. A nervous ache began to form in the pit of my stomach.
"Blake." I cleared my throat and set my fork down. "I heard you talking on the phone earlier. I heard what you said. What's going on?"
Blake managed a heavy sigh and leaned forward in his chair, folding his arms on the edge of the table. His expression quickly changed from lighthearted to grim.
"There was another murder," he said softly, glancing out the glass door where he'd been standing, talking on the phone. "I got a call from Ranger Carson. She was filling me in on the details. They found a hiker – another young woman – dead on a trail early this morning. It sounds like she was hiking alone late yesterday evening. She might've gotten lost on the way back to her car and it got dark. Anyway, it's the same M.O. and everything. They're positive it's the same guy. We still don't have any leads though. He doesn't leave D.N.A. at the scene or anything to tell us more information as to who he is. It's like the damn Zodiac dude or something. Carson said the park service is considering closing the park to visitors altogether to keep people safe."
As much as I hated to hear that Acadia may be closed to visitors, it did sound like the logical move to make. The park service couldn't afford to keep dealing with murder after murder on their soil. Maybe that was the way to go.
"But how do you evacuate an entire national park's worth of people?" I asked, imagining the chaos that would likely ensue. "I think it's a good idea, but it just seems impossible to evacuate that many people. You've got people who are residents. You can't really force someone out of their home, right? I know their houses are on park property, but they still live here. Where would they go? And no doubt there would be a whole host of people trying to sneak into the park as a result. You'd have people defying the rules just because they want to, but you'd probably also have looters trying to come in if people have to evacuate their homes. How do you manage something that huge with how understaffed and underfunded the park service is? It's a good idea, but is it even plausible?"
Blake heaved a big sigh and leaned back in his chair, tapping his thumb against his knee as he thought it over.
"Well, it wouldn't just be the park police handling it. The municipal and maybe even state police would help, but I agree. It would still be a massive undertaking. I would also be concerned that the killings wouldn't stop," he explained. "Just because you evacuate people doesn't mean there won't still be a targeted group. Like you said, there will be people sneaking into the park anyway. There will probably be people who refuse to leave their homes. That creates a whole pool of perspective murder victims for this bastard. I don't know how you combat something of that magnitude. I think the park service and the police are just trying to do the best they can, but this guy is apparently very skilled at what he does. He's keeping everyone on their toes."
It was a sad reality. It seemed like there was no right way to go. You couldn't force everyone out, and even if you could, would this maniac just go to the nearest town or maybe the next park and continue on his rampage? There were too many uncertainties. I couldn't see a plan like that working out the way the authorities were hoping.
"There's got to be something someone is missing in this investigation," I said in frustration. "How do you have a picture of the guy, shoeprints, multiple killings... and they have nothing to go on? Somebody has to have overlooked an important clue somewhere. Could they not get fingerprints from the scene where the woman who was renting was murdered?"
Blake shook his head in disappointment. "The guy wore gloves apparently. Based on the picture you got of him, we're assuming he wears the same ensemble every time he kills. You can't really make out what all he's got on to hide his identity in the photo, but you can tell he takes pretty good precautions. He's probably got a ski mask and accoutrements like that to prevent leaving behind anything or letting anyone get a good look at him. At least in the case of that particular victim, it appeared that he had cleaned up after himself to an extent and even took the trash with him. Obviously, you can't really clean up after yourself in the woods, but he still does a good enough job of letting the elements cover his tracks. He tends to only kill when there's rain in the forecast. But he's bound to slip up eventually. I just hope it's sooner rather than later."
"Me too," I groaned, resting my forehead in my palm.
Blake reached over and placed a comforting hand on my arm, rubbing a gentle circle into my skin with his thumb. "It's going to be alright, Mackenzie. It will."
I knew he was saying it to comfort me. I had no idea if he actually believed what he was saying. Regardless, the gesture was as much a comfort as he intended, and I could feel myself begin to relax again with just his touch to bring me back from my storming thoughts.
"Unfortunately, I do need to go take care of some work stuff today," he mentioned. "I'm off duty, but Carson wants another set of eyes looking over the scene. The police already wrapped up their stuff, so now we get to eyeball whatever's left. Are you going to be alright if I leave you here alone?"
"What if I go with you?"