Was there another person in that clearing with the two of us? That’s the only way this murder idea makes any sense. But if we weren’t alone, wouldn’t I have seen them?
No! That’s bullshit. Bryan screwed up and mistakenly pointed the gun at himself. There couldn’t have been a person with us in that clearing. I’d remember that.
Jesus, I’m starting to think maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe there was someone there in addition to Bryan and me? Did that person shoot him? Wouldn’t I have heard another gunshot?
None of this makes sense.
Turning three hundred and sixty degrees, I try to find some evidence that whoever may have shot Bryan was here, but I’m not even sure what to look for. I’d think the cops would have found something, but since they’re so laser-focused on me, I guess it’s not surprising they haven’t.
Those two aren’t exactly talented at their jobs. Who knew our local police were so incompetent?
As I question whether or not I’m beginning to go insane, out of the corner of my eye I see someone in the brush down the path from the clearing. I immediately make a beeline to where they stand, but in a flash, there’s no one there.
I am losing my mind.
No. I saw what I saw. The other day and now. Whatever this is, whether it be shadows because it’s twilight or something else, I know what I saw.
“Come out and show yourself! I know you’re here.”
I wait for whoever it was a moment ago to answer or come out into the open, but nothing happens. Maybe I am seeing things. If not, how can I explain thinking there was a person in front of me no more than ten feet away one moment and them disappearing the next?
The sound of someone stepping on a branch behind me makes me spin around, and what I see makes my heart skip a beat. It can’t be. No, that’s not possible. Now I know my mind is playing tricks on me because that person can’t be here.
I open my mouth to speak to what I’m sure is a ghost, but before I can say a word, something hard slams into the back of my head. My knees buckle, and then I collapse to the ground with the last image I see being impossible.
Something pressingon my shoulder wakes me up, and I open my eyes to see Officer Ramon standing over me shining a flashlight in my face. A throbbing pain at the back of my head reminds me that I didn’t merely fall asleep here on the pathway.
Someone knocked me out.
Then I remember who I saw right before everything went black. But I must have been wrong. I couldn’t have seen her.
She’s dead.
Was it all a dream? My mind must be playing tricks on me. That’s the only explanation for what’s going on.
“Mr. Jennings, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night, for God’s sake.”
I scrub the sleep from my eyes and slowly sit up as I try to formulate an answer that doesn’t sound like I’m out of my mind. Confused by what he said about it being the middle of the night, I look around and see it’s pitch black out, except for his flashlight aimed at the ground next to me.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly one o’clock in the morning. Now what are you doing here?”
One o’clock. I must have been out for nearly six hours.
“I was taking a walk and came up here to try to figure out what happened the other day,” I say as the events of my night slowly come back to me.
Pointing his flashlight directly into my eyes, he asks, “So you came up here and just decided to take a nap right here on the ground?”
The way he says that, like he’s dealing with a madman or an idiot, and that fucking light practically burning out my retinas make me want to strangle him. I contain my anger, though, and shield my eyes as I stand up.
“No. Someone attacked me from behind. They hit me with something heavy, and I collapsed. I must have been passed out here the whole time.”
I gently run my fingertips over the back of my head and feel a hard lump bigger than a golf ball. Jesus, what the hell did they use to hit me?
“Someone attacked you? Why would they do that?” Officer Ramon asks in a tone that tells me he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
Exasperated by this man’s inability to see a crime when it’s occurred, I point to the back of my head and snap, “Run your fingers over my scalp, and you’ll feel where they hit me. Maybe if you people weren’t so busy condemning me as judge and jury you’d be able to see this isn’t a case of me killing someone. And now, you’ve gotten people around here so worked up that they’re coming after me, Officer Ramon.”
