The Bluffs: A Gripping Mystery with an Unbelievable Twist by Henry Harper

Author:Henry Harper [Harper, Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I get up when I hear Sarah moving about. True to form, I didn’t sleep a wink. I even sat up in bed several times and peered out the window. I could hardly see a thing, so of course I jumped at every shadow. Nothing stirred. Were I not so dog-tired right now, I’d probably feel much calmer.

I head into the sunroom and find Sarah at the little table drinking black coffee and smoking.

“Did I wake you?” she asks, always thinking of others.

“No,” I say, “but did I wake you last night?” She gives me a quizzical look. “I broke one of your glasses. In the kitchen. I’m so sorry.” Sarah smiles.

“I hope you realize this means from now on you’ll be drinking out of an old shoe.” I laugh. “What happened?” she asks, “are you ok?”

I decide, after many restless hours of deliberation, to come clean. What trumps anything else is the thought of Sarah not being safe in her refuge. She needs to know.

“I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. And when I looked out the window, I...I saw a man standing in the cider factory.” I notice a marked change in Sarah upon hearing these words. She immediately looks rattled.

“Are you sure?” she asks, almost like she’s hoping I made it up. I nod.

“I stared long and hard and there was definitely a man up there in your secret hang out, standing at the window smoking a cigarette. I thought he was looking right at me, but when the shock subsided, I realized I could only see his outline. Have you seen him there before?”

“Ah, no...but...” She is stalling. Clearly, she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Sarah, we’re well past keeping secrets. I mean, we did a duet of “Rhinestone Cowboy” for God’s sake,” I say, trying to keep things on the lighter side of heavy. She smiles and takes a big puff of her cigarette. “Tell me the truth,” I say, “has he been there before?”

“No. Well, maybe. I haven’t seen him myself but I had my suspicions.”

“You know him, don’t you?”

“No. Not exactly. But not long before the accident at The Bluffs, when I was still living with the Pruitts, I used to see a man in the bushes. He’d be on the edge of the property and I could never tell who he was. It was always at night, and he was always smoking.”

“Sounds like our guy,” I say, both spooked and glad I decided to bring it up.

“One time I was driving home and this car started chasing me with its high beams on. I ended up driving off the road and hitting a tree.” I instinctively run my hand over the still-healing wound on my stomach. Sarah’s story mirrors mine and confirms that it wasn’t just local youths on a joyride. “But after the accident, when I moved here, it all died down. Or so I thought.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” I ask.

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