I loved him so much.
“But why was the bartender stalking you? Did you even know him?”
“It’s a long story that involves my father having an affair.” I glanced toward the cliff. “Can I tell you the rest later?”
He touched my face. “Yeah.”
“What do we do now?” I asked. “We need to call for help but my phone doesn’t get a signal out here.”
“We’ll go that way.” He pointed. “The hiking trail isn’t far. As soon as we get a signal, we’ll call Garrett.”
“And an ambulance.”
“Oh.” He glanced at his leg. “Right. Yeah, that’s starting to hurt.”
“How about you, Max?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
He licked my face.
Josiah started to get up but winced.
“Let me help.” I got to my feet and he steadied himself against me as he stood. “Can you put weight on it?”
“Enough. I’ll be able to walk.”
I glanced at the cliff but Josiah touched my chin and moved my gaze to him.
“Don’t. You don’t need to see it.”
My eyes welled up with more tears. “Why did he do that? He didn’t have to fall.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes people choose darkness.”
“It’s like he was obsessed—too twisted with hatred to see another way. It’s just all so unnecessary.”
“There’s nothing you could have done, Audrey.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get out of here.”
I draped his arm over my shoulders so he could lean on me if he needed to. Max trotted along beside us as we made our way toward the trail. Even with both of us limping—and the pain of all my scrapes and bruises starting to demand my attention—it didn’t take long before we found our way. His phone got a signal first, so he called Garrett. He told us to wait where we were, help was on the way.
We sat down on the side of the trail. Josiah put his arm around me and held me close.
“Thank you for saving me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Always.”
CHAPTER 42
Audrey
Max didn’t understand days off any more than he understood weekends—even when I’d almost been thrown off a cliff a few days ago. He woke me up at six-thirty sharp, so I took him outside to go potty.
I stretched my arms over my head while he did his business. The bruises I’d predicted had definitely come to pass. But I didn’t let the aches and pains bother me in the least. It could have been so much worse.
The events at the falls had sent shockwaves through our little community. And for once, there weren’t any wild rumors. Apparently the truth was dreadful enough on its own.
Garrett and two other deputies searched Hayden’s house and what they found told the story of his obsession. He had a box of old photos and newspaper clippings, mostly from my adolescence in Pinecrest. They’d largely been defaced, most with the words you don’t see me, or, I hate you written over my name or image.
He’d printed more recent photos of me and hung them on a bulletin board in his bedroom. Some were grainy, like they’d been taken from a distance and blown up. Others were disturbingly clear. He had hundreds more on his phone, plus photos of my house, both before and after he’d vandalized it. It seemed as if he’d taken some kind of sick pleasure in the planning and documentation of his crimes.
They also found the fake suicide note he’d written, intending to pass it off as mine. The journal he’d told me about was still on his laptop, also written as if it were me. He’d really believed he could frame my murder as a suicide; really thought he’d get away with it.
Thankfully, no one doubted the truth of our story. From the moment the emergency crew had found us on the hiking trail and brought us to the hospital, we’d told everyone the truth, and they’d believed us. The evidence they found at Hayden’s house merely backed up what we’d already told them.
It was a reminder that you never know what a person is truly going through. We all carry burdens that others can’t see. Unfortunately, Hayden let his poison him from the inside.
I had sympathy for him—for the kid who’d had a crappy childhood through no fault of his own. But I wasn’t going to make excuses for him, either. He could have chosen a different path. He chose the darkness that ultimately ended his life. I couldn’t take responsibility for that.
“Come on, Max. Let’s go inside.”