by Petra Newman

Created on: June 07, 2009   Last Updated: May 17, 2011

Crystal sat down in the rocker and looked out at the horizon. Brilliant reds and orange bled across the deepening blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful day tomorrow, she thought as she watched the sun make its descent behind the mountains.  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, slowly rocking back and forth. 

A week had passed since she’d left home.  She could kick herself for forgetting to bring her cell phone. A little homesick, she wondered what her friends were up to.

Something hard pressed into her thigh.   A rush of excitement seized her when she remembered the items in her pocket.  Her fingers shook when she retrieved the brooch and crumpled envelope.  She peered in and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  A scrap of newspaper fell loose from its folds and fluttered to the floor.  Crystal bent down to pick it up then walked towards the window where the lighting was better.

Long elegant flourishes from a pen screamed off the page.  Crystal’s adrenaline escalated, her heart tripped, she had trouble breathing.  The message hit hard like a physical blow; her legs quaked when she read the letter. 

"Brad; you were right all along.  There was someone.  He’s the man you’ll never be.  I’ll send for Misty when I get settled.  Mauve"

It was the scrap of newspaper that floored Crystal.  Fear gripped her; she had difficulty breathing as her heart hammered in her ears.

"Two people die in car crash.  It is still under investigation why car failed to yield to road sign.  High speed and passing in a no passing zone seem to be a factor.  The names of the victims are being withheld until next of kin are notified."

Stunned, Crystal dropped down onto the rocker.  Her head was reeling.  Brad’s wife ran away with her lover– both died the same day. Was it an accident?

Nightmares plagued Crystal’s sleep that night;  A car hurtling down a mountain side . . . a beat-up Chevy truck sitting on the side of the road . . . an observer shadowed in the truck . . .Brad.

Tired and listless, dark smudges appeared under her eyes, anxiety set in.  She remembered what the waitress told her in Bella Coola. “His wife disappeared . . . he’s a loner . . . he hates all women."  Fragments of information culminated in her head implicating Brad as suspect in his wife’s accident.  Her stomach twisted.

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