Panic flooded her veins as she navigated her way through the dense woods behind her house. She had slowed to a brisk walk, proceeding with the utmost caution to avoid bumping into any of the neighbors who regularly walked their dogs there. The crisp scent of fresh foliage that had always brought her such peace now acted as a detecting system. She filled her nostrils, relying on her senses to detect danger. Though she was as light-footed as a gazelle, her presence scared a few squirrels that were feverishly scouring the ground to gather the last of what the season offered before the cold set in. Nearby, she heard a rustle in the bushes behind her and looked back. The dense foliage made it difficult to see anything so she bent at the waist to have a proper look. When she didn't see anything, she brushed it off as another squirrel, or perhaps a fox. Off the footpath, it was hard to move through the thicket and it slowed her down. Her route there was shorter than if she had run along the road, but even so, she was running out of time to get home before Ewan got there. She picked up her pace, hooking her bare legs on the spiky leaves of the nettle patches. As she neared her house, she could hear Charlie's voice drifting in the breeze toward her. She crouched down behind a tree, peering around it to see if she was visible to him and the squad. They were searching in the undergrowth around the body, engrossed in their task. Determining she was out of their view, she changed direction and zigzagged from tree to tree until she was within ten yards of her house. With her side door in full view, she paused behind a tree, assessing if any constables were patrolling her house. The coast was clear.
She drew a deep breath, exhaled, and darted across the narrow strip of lawn toward the door. Her long limbs ensured she did it in only three strides before her feet leaped the two steps up to the door.
As always, her door was unlocked—quite common for people living in St. Ives. She shut the door behind her, bolted the latch at the top, then the key in the door. She paused briefly, her back to the door, scanning her eyes through the cozy kitchen. Everything seemed exactly as she had left it earlier that morning. When she didn't hear any sounds coming from the rest of the house, she moved through the kitchen and down the small corridor to lock the front door. Her fingers moved quickly, first the latch at the top, then the key. Her body tingled with adrenaline. She had made it home unnoticed.
As the endorphins slowly dissipated and her brain kicked into clarity, she made her way back to the kitchen and gulped down a small bottle of water from the fridge. Her eye caught a magnet she had gotten as a birthday gift the previous year. Ewan had given it to her. It was a four-by-four-inch picture of a waterfall running into a beautiful pond. A biblical scripture was written across it. She allowed herself to take it in.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul.
She waited for the words to mean something, anything. But nothing happened. It rang empty, devoid of any emotion. She never really got why he gave it to her in the first place and always thought it must have had some special meaning to him since he was more committed to their faith than she was. So, she left it on her fridge door as a sign of respect—or to trick him into thinking that it had meant something to her too. He had tried to get her to attend church more regularly, but for some reason, she couldn't. It made her feel vulnerable—a place where someone bigger than her knew her deepest, darkest secrets. She went when she felt like it—which was all of perhaps once a month to appease Ewan and keep up her facade. It wasn't that she did not believe that there was a God, she did. She just wasn't ready to let go of who she used to be and so desperately yearned to one day be again. Letting the community—and Ewan—believe she had already crossed the line of faith made living there easier somehow—not to mention ensured her cover. The reminder of her past jolted her into the present and she dropped the empty water bottle into the recycling. Her shoes squeaked on the tiled floor as she started pacing the small space in her kitchen. Think Jorja, think! She swept her medium-length blonde hair back and tucked it behind her ears, locking her hands in the nape of her neck to help her focus.
Her mind wandered to the man who’d stood across the street. She hadn't liked the look of him then and most certainly now had the eerie feeling that he’d had a hand in Myles' demise. As her memory played back his last moments in her shop she shut her eyes in an attempt to recall any details about the man she might have overlooked. But her mind was foggy. Instead, the heavy feeling of dread that had been simmering in the pit of her stomach slowly pushed up and settled in her chest. She threw her head back and drew in several deep breaths to encourage her body to get rid of it, but it didn't. Panic set in.
She tried to calm her thoughts, reasoning that she should have just told Ewan about him, let him handle it, and do what he was trained to do. But something had held her back from mentioning the man to him. Perhaps it was because she refused to believe it was possible, tried to convince herself that there was no way on earth they could have known where she was. That they could not have finally found her.
But in the very depths of her gut, hidden behind the heavy feeling in her chest, she knew her instincts were on point. She had wronged many people in her life, too many to count. Even her parents when she left home that day and spat angered words at them. But there were only ever two enemies of whom she needed to be afraid. And both had just cause and the means to take their revenge.
Propelled by the notion that Myles' murder might very well have been a message of warning to her, she charged out of the kitchen and up into her bedroom. Her mind and body seemed to have taken on a will of their own as she yanked open her closet doors and shoved a rack of clothing to one side. On the floor of her wardrobe stood a small drawer unit and she fought to drag it over to one side. It was heavier than she recalled it being, not having needed to move it since she arrived almost twenty years earlier. She panted as it finally gave way under her strength and she dropped to her knees in front of the space it had occupied. Her fingers moved quickly to pull up one of the corners of the carpet where it had been sliced into a neat square flap. Beneath it, the wooden floor lay exposed and she reached into one of the drawers of the unit to retrieve a flat tool—similar to one a sculptor would use to carve clay. She wedged the flat point between the floorboards. One easily lifted away and she moved to lift the other. Her hand reached down and from the dark corners beneath the floorboards, she retrieved a small duffle bag. The black leather was covered in a thick layer of dust that puffed into a small cloud as she dropped it on the floor beside her. Panic made way for hesitation when she reached for the zipper. Never, after all this time, having remained hidden in the safe confines of St. Ives at the furthermost point of England, did she ever think she'd have to face either of them again. The notion gave her chills, knowing that either of them, if not both, was quite capable of killing her. And why wouldn't they? She had destroyed one's life and robbed from the other.
A lonely tear threatened to run down her cheek. She had come to love her life in St. Ives, and all the people who welcomed her. The last words Myles had said to her were that she was the best thing that had ever happened to them, a blessing. Now, it seemed as if she was the direct opposite. She has cursed this town, brought with her the sins of her past. A past the residents of St. Ives were now paying dearly for.
She vigorously wiped away the tear that had settled on her chin then her fingers moved to pull back the zipper. And as she pulled back her shoulders, resolved to doing what she needed to do to protect the town—and Ewan—she emptied the contents of the bag onto the soft carpet next to her.