“Sure thing. Let me just stop at my car to grab my bag.”
We headed through the thinning crowds toward the hostel. I pulled the small bag of toiletries I’d packed out of the backpack. Something caught my eye. Standing in the open back door of the car, I looked up in the sky and saw an orange-ish light streaking across the sky, like a rainbow but brighter somehow.
“Look at that.” I pointed.
“Oh yeah, I saw that last night. I think it’s a lunar bow.”
The book had mentioned those alongside rainbows but it didn’t have a picture. It was beautiful, more striking than all the colors, I thought. Just one. I felt a smile spread across my face. As silly as it was, I felt like this was what I’d come here to see. After all the official sites, the gorgeous views, just a swash of orange across the sky. Bold, brash. Everything that I wasn’t only a few weeks ago, but not anymore.
I glanced to the side.
There was a large overfill lot meant for people who visited with trailers and RVs. In that lot was a familiar truck, and leaning against the side was Hunter. I couldn’t be sure. His body was nondescript from this far away, his face in the shadows. But it was him.
He didn’t move. He wouldn’t move.
I turned to Sarah. “I have something kind of crazy to tell you. I’m going to leave now, but not in my car. Do you want it?”
“Uh, what?”
“It’s okay if you don’t, but it just sounded earlier like you might not have one. This car is old and not even strictly street legal but it can get you where you need to go.”
“Is this some kind of trick?”
“Take it or leave it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Take it.”
I tossed her the keys as I headed down the trip. “Nice meeting you, Sarah. Good luck.”
She raised her hand in a tentative wave. “You too.”
I wanted him to come to me. It wasn’t just a pride thing. I needed to know that he wanted this too. I needed him to need me too. Sure, I suspected, I hoped, but this was put-up or shut-up time. This was putting everything on the line just to see if it stuck. It was jumping off a cliff.
The streets thinned out right away. Only the main strand had been crowded. I found the largest street that would take me to the highway and just kept walking.
Twenty minutes later I saw headlights illuminate the road beside me. I put my thumb into the air like I was hitching a ride. The familiar squeak and rumble as the truck slowed to a stop beside me.
The door opened and Hunter was there, a grave expression on his face.
“Where you headed?” he asked, deceptively calm.
“No place in particular.”
“Isn’t that usually the point of hitching a ride, to get somewhere?”
I grinned, repeating his previous sentiments back to him. “I like to travel. Sometimes I do jobs, but in between them, I keep travelling.”
He paused, seeming to think that over.
“Well, hop in then,” he said so softly I barely heard him.
I climbed into the truck and tossed my bag in the back. Without looking at me, he started up the engine and took us forward. Though I didn’t have a destination in mind, I expected him to pull out onto the freeway. Instead he kept going down Main Street past the turnoff.
“Where are we going?”
He reached under his seat and handed me a book. “Got something for you.”
I touched the familiar cardboard cover, traced the lettering. Niagara Falls.
Once the mere thought of this had sustained me, small doses of hope. Now that I’d seen the real thing, I couldn’t regret any of it. The falls were both more beautiful than I could have imagined—and yet meant so much less. They were rock and water, not meant to be anyone’s salvation. Not like flesh and blood.
There was more. A manila folder was tucked between the pages and sticking out from the sides. I opened it. My breath caught at what I read. A full confession written in Hunter’s hand detailing how he’d kidnapped me, the sexual acts we’d performed in clinical terms, and signed by him at the bottom.
Even more shocking was the letters beneath them. Signed witness statement from Laura and James. A small pain stabbed my heart imagining Laura’s horror and confusion at learning the truth. And some man named Roger Wilbourne, proprietor of a diner and gas station, who had seen a girl call for help, who’d found three unconscious men on his property later that day. Hunter had collected statements from them that were both factual and damning.
The truck slowed to a stop.
I looked out the window. The sign on the old building read Niagara Falls NY Police Department. My stomach churned with revulsion. No.
With an impassive expression, he nodded for me to get out of the truck. To go into the station and hand these documents over. The gesture took me back to that first day at the motel. The forced casualness, the banked desire. He’d claimed to want my body that night, but he’d really needed so much more.