*************

One year before the cabin:

*************

It had been almost nine years since the accident. It was another lifetime ago. Travis and Amy had been married for the last six. And they couldn't be happier. The therapy she'd gotten Travis involved in began having positive effects early on. The medications were proving beneficial as well. They kept him from seeing his son in the middle of the night.

No longer a prisoner of his former life. He still thought about Briar, and remembered the details of their lives together. Their family. It was still agonizing, but he was able to manage it. He didn't have a gun in a drawer, with a rusty tip from his saliva build-up.

The settlement he received from the insurance was significant. The kind you retire on. Still, it would never replace his son. He sold the house that he and Rachael lived in. For extra cushion. His savings and Amy's income were supporting them nicely.

As a way to cope with grief, he began writing music again. He had several songs that were marketable, and he was keeping himself busy trying to sell them. They were good. He was building a reputation as a songwriter around the city's music scene.

When they found time, he and Amy would spend it together. The zoo. The city museums and Forest Park. Summit hikes and dolphin cruises were always a nice escape from the St. Louis atmosphere. They would spend weeks at a time in the mountains of Colorado, where Amy discovered that she could snowboard. A couple weeks every now and then at the beach along the Florida coast, where she discovered surfing required similar balance. Travis was an eager participant and a formidable challenger at mini-golf, but he would lose more often. Much more. Although he would argue that he let her have it, the win/loss brackets evened out on the go-cart track, where he showed no mercy.

Things couldn't get better in this new life. Avoiding the haunting of the last one was the only thing that took effort. Everything else was just naturally good.

"Look at this, Baby!" Travis pulled into their suburban driveway in his new Jeep Grand Cherokee, with his proud facial expression hanging out the window.

"You didn't?" Amy laughed, not surprised, looking up from her chore of pulling the weeds from the bed along the side of the house.

"Oh, I did. Paid in full."

"Babe, it's just a Jeep Cherokee. It's not a Bentley."

"Don't be jealous. It's a Jeep thing. You wouldn't understand."

He delivered a kiss on his way to the house.

"I thought we were going to get someone to do this for us," she reminded him on his way inside.

He started fingering through a stack of mail on the counter. Separating the bills from the junk. He popped the lid of the trashcan open with the foot pedal and dropped it in. As the lid closed, he saw it. He opened it again and fetched out the white and pink plastic stick. It had been covered up with some napkins, wrappers, and other general clutter, but a piece of it stood out. Exposed. Enough to grab his attention.

Positive? What the...

Amy heard the front door shut. She looked up. Travis was standing on the porch. Her sigh when she noticed the pregnancy test in his hand spoke volumes.

"Were you gonna..."

"I was going to tell you," she interrupted. "When the time was right."

"You're pregnant?"

She nodded.

"We're pregnant," he rephrased. Happily. He went to her and helped her up, hugging her. "This is amazing."

"Are you sure?" She was nervous. With the history he had with Briar, she wasn't sure how he would react. It had been years, but she vividly remembered how things were in the beginning. It was rough. They were in a solid place, and she wasn't prepared to shake things up. Possibly, reopening old wounds.

"Yes, I'm sure." He hugged her snug. "My god, yes. I'm sure." He placed a longing kiss on her forehead.

He looked at it as a second chance to be a father.

"Am I going to be a big brother?" Travis sat straight up in bed. It was late. Dark. He looked over at Amy. She was still sound asleep, wrapped in the blanket. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time. He was panting, startled. Like he just woke up from a bad dream. He looked around the empty room. Was he dreaming?

The sound of little footsteps outside the door led into the living room. Travis quietly got out of bed, careful not to wake Amy. He stepped lightly into the hall.

"Daddy?" It came from around the corner. He poked his head around to see into the living room. Empty. He entered and investigated the room to make sure.

"Mommy says you wanna replace me."

He twirled around. Where did it come from? He seemed alone. "That's not true!" He argued, regardless of visual evidence, that Briar was there. He started to tear up. "I love you, son. I love you so much."

A few eerily quiet seconds would pass without a response. He waited.

"Mommy says if that was true, you'd be with me."

"Travis!" Amy hit her knees and slid across the kitchen floor to him, through the blood. She shrieked, "Travis!" He was unconscious and bleeding out from his wrists. A large butcher knife lying next to him. It looked like he'd used it to slice, stab, and saw at his veins.

She reached above them and opened a drawer, pulling dish towels from it and wrapping his gaping wounds. It didn't stop the bleeding. She instinctively used the bloody knife to cut a string from her house coat and used it as a makeshift tourniquet, tying off both his arms the best she could. She fumbled through a 911 call and tried to keep Travis alive until they arrived.

"Is he okay," Tommy asked when he entered the hospital room.

Travis was still under, but he could hear them. Even though they started speaking closer to a whisper.

She told Tommy, "He found it."

"Found it?"

"It...the test."

"Is that why..."

"No, no. I mean, I don't think so."

"Do you think he has any idea that..."

"No! And we're taking that to the grave."

The nurses walked in and announced they'd be taking over the room for some tests and that visitors would have to excuse them. Taking what to the grave?

It would be another day before Travis woke up. "Pulled through, huh?" Tommy was at his bedside. Old reliable. "We gotta stop doing this, Bro."

He rolled his head over to see the person attached to the hand that had begun softly stroking his forehead. "Amy."

She'd been crying. "Welcome back."

It was comforting that they were both there. Especially Amy. But Travis couldn't shake the conversation he heard them having while they thought he was unconscious. It felt strange. Off. He trusted them both. Why do they have a secret?

"What are we thinking for baby names?" Travis wanted her to know he was still on board with being a dad again and that this incident had nothing to do with regret or anything like that.

She sniffled. Smiled against her wet face. "I was thinking, James, for a boy. We could call him Jim or Jimmy."

"I'm gonna call him JImbo." Tommy said it jokingly, but he thought on it. "Yeah, I like Jimbo."

Amy added with certainty, "Either Samantha or Genevieve for a girl."

Travis admitted, "I like them both."

The next three days were sluggish. The wounds on his wrists weren't healed, but they released him anyway. Amy would tend to his needs and assist in returning his body and mind to normal. While, physically, she was certain she could handle the task; cleaning the area, replacing the bandages, helping him wash.

It was the psychological aspect that had everyone troubled. After all, this wasn't his first attempt. He'd been fine for the last several years. The therapy. The meds. They were working. But something wasn't right in his head. He couldn't recall what had happened. He'd misplaced a memory of trying to take his own life. Twice. How could anyone be sure he wouldn't try again?

Amy was running errands when Travis got the phone call. "Hello?"

"Yes, this is Dr. Remmy. I'm just doing a follow-up on the procedure."

"Sure." Travis didn't sense anything out of the ordinary about a follow-up call. He assumed it was the doctor who had stitched him up and saved his life.

"I know it's only been four days since I spoke with you guys, but the first week after an abortion can have an emotional impact that I'd like to monitor, as we discussed. I need to confirm that there is no depression, suicidal thoughts, or..."

"Excuse me?" Travis had to stop him right there. "Did you say abortion?"

"I'm sorry, this is the father, correct?"

"Yes..."

"Right...Tommy?"

Travis stood as stiff as an embalmed corpse. He had no control over his thoughts. There weren't any. The off switch in his brain had been flipped.

"Tommy?"

"It's...Travis."

While Travis had just uncovered a devastating secret, Amy was receiving a pretty disturbing update as well. From the Sheriff.

She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't. But, the pictures don't lie. That was Travis. In all of them. Limping. Favoring that healing, fractured, left leg. That was him leaving her house from the front door. That was him getting into his brother's car in the middle of the night.

"Where did you get these?"

Sheriff Tuck confiscated them from her and waddled around his desk to sit. "I'll start at the beginning. Rachael's neighbor, crazy old son of a bitch, Victor something or another. He was having a bit of trouble with some crack heads fucking around his place. Day of the murder, as luck would have it, he installs this game cam. It didn't last long in that neighborhood. Somebody got it. Thief was disguised in an old duster. Cowboy hat. Rough looking beard."

Amy was anxiously waiting for him to get to the point. She'd just discovered that her husband is likely a murderer. That she was inadvertently complicit in him getting away with it this long.

"Bobby, at the pawn shop down off Jefferson, he had a couple of those crack heads come in with that stolen camera. Well, Bobby, he removed the cards and reviewed the photos. Not only did he find photos of the thieving bastard...he uncovered these gems."

"What happens now?"

Tuck leaned in over his exuberantly twiddling fingers, "I want to arrest him."

He believed that Travis was responsible for this crime the moment he heard the 911 call. That Amy had been smitten and fooled. That the case was never investigated because of the relationship between the suspect and the lead detective.

"We can't just arrest him. This proves he was there, not that he killed her. She may have been upset after the visit. He called in a wellness check because he knew she took the conversation badly. We have to reopen the case." She was visibly ashamed of her negligence. Disappointed in herself, as she had always prided herself on her ability to read people. "I won't stand in the way of the investigation. I'll support whatever decision is made by the court."

"The decision has been made. We need you to work with us. You know the position you're in. There's a possible cover-up situation here. Maybe conspiracy, with a side of accessory. A sprinkle of embedding?"

Before she opened the door to leave, she promised, "When it's over, I'm turning in my badge. I'm done."

Travis was restlessly awaiting her return from her errands so that he could confront her about the abortion. She had something much more damning to discuss.

"You can't stay here anymore, Travis." She made the announcement walking in.

The statement didn't even phase Travis. "You got an abortion!"

She didn't hesitate before hitting back. "You killed Rachael."

That, he heard. He took a step back, cocking his head. "What?"

"I know, Travis. I know what you did. I need you to leave."

"Amy?" He genuinely seemed staggered by the accusation. "You know I didn't..."

"I'm not asking you as a wife. I'm ordering you as a law enforcement officer. You're gonna need to stay with Tommy for a while. I'll box your things up and have them delivered."

"Amy? I..."

"Just go."

Driving to his brother's house was almost unachievable. He was dizzy with worry. Confusion.

"It's okay, Daddy." The voice came from the backseat. Travis instinctively adjusted the rear view mirror. Momentarily, he expected to see his son's face in the reflection, but there was no one there. "Mommy takes care of him."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? What the hell is happening? He wondered if he was going insane. Could he have killed Rachael? He was literally hearing voices from his dead child. He couldn't remember trying to kill himself for fucks sake. There was no way of knowing just what he was capable of.

He was banging on Tommy's door with the back of his elbow to keep from further injuring his wrapped wrists. He started interrogating his little brother immediately. "You knew about the fucking abortion, Tommy!"

Amy had called to warn him that Travis was on his way over. She explained that he knew about the abortion, as well as the fact that he would likely be arrested for murder very shortly.

"Travis, it was before you found the test. She didn't know how to tell you she was pregnant. She was scared that it'd open old wounds. She didn't want to do it, man. She really didn't." Tommy stepped a side, giving his brother room to come inside. "Come in," he assisted.

"She thinks I killed Rachael."

"I know."

Travis went inside and sat on the couch, elbows to knees and head in his hands. "I didn't kill her, Tommy."

"Maybe not. But, you did steal my car that night and drive over there. I found you sucking on the barrel of the same caliber weapon. It's a bad look."

Travis argued, "We had his and hers! They found hers there!"

"Bro, listen...I think you need to call a lawyer."

"I've started hearing him again." He looked at Tommy with tears on top of worry.

"Have you been taking your meds?"

He wasn't sure why the hallucinations had returned, but they were back with a vengeance. Briar was back. "I don't think they're helping."

"Well, you can stay here for as long as you need."

It was just before midnight and Travis was tossing about on the couch. He couldn't sleep. Restless again. He pulled the tiny chain, turning on the end table light. He got up and began snooping around the room. A bookshelf? Tommy doesn't even read. Why does he have all these books? As useless as an empty gun rack. Geez, look at these titles; Fuck Her on the First Date, A Kiss Before Head, The Breathing Orgasm. Classic collection, Tommy.

One stood apart from the others. He picked it up. Forest Hill: History and Beyond. He looked over it on his way back to the couch and laid down with it. This was a story about a witch. A spell placed on a mountain, gifting a family eternity. It was full of tales about murder, betrayal, jealousy. A cabin. A graveyard.

But, it was the sole illustration, in the middle of the book, that allowed him to begin drifting off to sleep. It gained his focus. A girl. Admiring a lake. Her hair, blowing with the wind. The breeze gently pulled her dress from her legs.

The humming emanated from somewhere in the room. A song. Familiar. Travis perked up to listen. It was faint and getting quieter. Dissipating like smoke until it was gone. But, he heard it. Didn't he? Just as he heard the voice of his boy...