Grave Decisions

By J. Rene'e Noble

Leigh Campion is a woman haunted by her past and living in constant turmoil. A chance meeting on a dark highway temporarily moves her away from her own personal drama and leads her on a dangerous journey she never expected. This deeply moving story will keep you on the edge of your seat and anticipating each riveting chapter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645363552

J. Rene'e Noble

J. Rene'e Noble is a married mother and grandmother. She received her general education diploma late in life and enrolled at Ivy Tech shortly after. She excels in essay writing and public speaking. A Chicago, IL native, she loves to travel abroad and currently resides with her husband, Greg, in Fort Walton Beach, FL.

Book preview

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About the Author

J. Rene’e Noble is a married mother and grandmother. She received her general education diploma late in life and enrolled at Ivy Tech shortly after. She excels in essay writing and public speaking. A Chicago, IL native, she loves to travel abroad and currently resides with her husband, Greg, in Fort Walton Beach, FL.

About the Book

Leigh Campion is a woman haunted by her past and living in constant turmoil. A chance meeting on a dark highway temporarily moves her away from her own personal drama and leads her on a dangerous journey she never expected. This deeply moving story will keep you on the edge of your seat and anticipating each riveting chapter.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my father, Gerald David

Stewart Sr.

Copyright Information

Copyright © J. Rene’e Noble (2019)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Noble, J. Rene’e

Grave Decisions

ISBN 9781643782515 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781643782522 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781643782539 (Kindle e-book)

ISBN 9781645363552 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number:  2019935299

The main category of the book — Fiction / Thrillers / Suspense

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank Helen Mackrola, Kelly Garnett-McDonald, Heather Maki, Dagmara Campbell, and a very special thanks to Lydia Dempsey. As always, I would like to thank my husband, Greg, who continually inspires me to be my authentic self, every single day.

Chapter 1

The rear exit door of The Brandywine restaurant flew open as a woman suddenly burst through it. She moved quickly through the parking lot as she attempted to light a cigarette. Hunching her back and cupping her hands, she began to create a wall of resistance against the whipping winds of an early spring evening. She flicked her lighter numerous times until the cigarette’s paper edge finally ignited with a spark.

Leigh Campion had just completed her shift as a server at The Brandywine in the sleepy little town of Palos Park, Illinois. She shivered, irritated that she had left her leather jacket in the backseat of her car. She dashed through the lot and scolded herself every step of the way. Dammit! I always forget! she shouted, revealing just the slightest tinge of an Irish brogue. She coughed out smoke and flicked the butt into the darkness as she entered her vehicle and adjusted the rear-view mirror. She leaned forward and examined the sooty black makeup that lined her gold-green eyes and then slicked on melon-tinted lip gloss. She smacked her lips together, admiring her reflection.

As she removed a tortoise­-shell clip from the back of her head, a shock of crimson curls fell just past her jawline. Leigh shook off the stress of the day and started the car’s engine. Cranking up the heat to max, she popped in an oldies C.D. and sped off, excited to be done with work for the night.

She had traveled several miles down Route 83 when she routinely glanced into the rear-view mirror and noticed something peculiar. Something unsettling.

Leigh applied pressure to the brakes as stern warnings echoed in her mind. She recalled sage advice from her overprotective, Irish-Catholic parents while she was a child growing up. Never talk to strangers, Leigh.

Don’t you be picking up hitchhikers.

You mustn’t leave yourself vulnerable.

Always be aware of your surroundings, Cailin!

She had spent most of her life being cautious but not this night. Leigh insisted she was doing the right thing when she pulled her vehicle over upon passing what appeared to be a small child standing off the side of the road. From the stature and clothing type, she assumed the youth to be a boy. A boy who was completely and utterly alone in the middle of nowhere.

More warnings fired off in her brain, but she fought them. They tell you to follow your gut, too, she reasoned. Leigh also took into consideration that she was no longer a young, innocent girl but a fully mature woman with a mind of her own.

She marveled at the thought of nearly passing him by and silently thanked the Lord she even noticed him at that hour of the evening. Had her eyes glanced in another direction, she would have missed him completely. The ‘mother’ in Leigh just couldn’t continue on without stopping to check on him. Not now, and certainly not this late. She did not see any people or other vehicles around as she continued to peer through the rear-view mirror. The child stood with his back to her, and Leigh wondered if he noticed that she had stopped her vehicle for him. Leaving the car running, she unlocked the driver’s side door and removed her seatbelt. Her heart began to race as she contemplated her next move.

Leigh felt physically distressed. The sort of uncomfortableness one feels when they know they are about to become involved in something that they have no business being involved in. A slight cramp traveled from her belly to her spine as she stiffened in her seat, trying to suppress it.

Leigh had spent her whole adult life trying to avoid drama. Yet, this past year, it seemed as if it followed her everywhere. She didn’t need to get her hands sullied in someone else’s business and felt she’d had enough of her own as of late, maybe even enough to last a lifetime. Leigh Campion was not a person who stepped up nor took charge. She had always let others do those kinds of things. But the child was alone, in the dark, and on a lonely stretch of a heavily wooded route she passed every night on her drive home. She attempted to calm her nerves and took a deep breath.

Leigh observed the interior display of her vehicle’s dashboard. It was Monday, March 13th, 2017, and 10:35 p.m. She made a mental note of it, knowing she might have to report the situation to the police at some point. She exited the driver’s side door, leaving it open. Feeling uneasy, she balled her hands into tight fists as she began to move towards the child.

She crept slowly, continuing to look around as if someone might jump out at her any minute. Leigh stepped with care rather than make a beeline towards the boy. She began to chastise herself again, remembering she had left her leather jacket in the backseat for the second time that evening. Why did I even bother to bring it? Leigh grumbled, continuing her approach. She had also left her cell phone resting on its charger in her vehicle. I’m not prepared at all. I’m being a fool, she agonized and shook her head, irked at her own irresponsibility.

Leigh continued to move forward. Her body began to bristle with nervousness as she came within a few feet of him. She quickly sized him up. From his height and build, she guessed that his age could be eight or maybe nine years old. She noticed he was dressed in a dark t-shirt and shorts that clung to his shivering body. He was dripping wet and looked more like he had just returned from a swim, which made absolutely no sense to her. ‘Had it rained earlier?’ she wondered. She suddenly couldn’t remember a single thing about her day, prior to stopping her car. Leigh worried that he might be freezing, and she felt her feet moving a little faster to reach him.

She called out to the child in her kindest voice. Hey there. Are you OK? The child gave no response. Her head continually spun around, surveying her surroundings. Leigh touched his shoulder softly and turned him to face her. She smiled as she crouched down, leaned forward, and tried to get a good look at his face without startling him. He was a very dark-skinned, African-American boy. There were no streetlights on that stretch of Route 83. With only the moonlight to aid her, she struggled to see if he had been injured in any way. He seemed to look through her and not directly at her. Vacant, she thought and felt all of her muscles stiffen as a chill ran down her spine.

Moving a little closer, she noticed that his eyes appeared milky, or fogged over, and his lips were tinged a purplish blue. She worried that the little boy might be experiencing hypothermia and assumed that he was most likely traumatized, or in shock. The leaves underneath her feet crunched with frost as she moved around to further assess him. He’s barefoot! Oh God, he looks so cold, she thought, trying not to panic. She could see her breath in the black of the night, but she could not see his, and she marveled how that was even possible.

Leigh took his limp hand in hers. Are you lost, sweetheart? she asked. He seemed unwilling, or at the very least, unable, to communicate with her. There was simply no more time to stand in the cold and ask him questions. I’m going to take you somewhere safe. OK? I’ll help you get home. I won’t hurt you, she consoled and led him to her car. The boy did not speak, nor did he resist. He simply walked beside her without making a sound.

Leigh opened the passenger side door, seated the child, and turned the heater vents to blow warmth directly onto his skin. She thought his fingers felt like slender icicles as she released his little hand and fastened him in. Jesus, it’s so damned cold out tonight! Who could leave this poor baby? she wondered. Maybe he’s lost? she thought. Maybe he’s ill or cannot speak and wandered off? Maybe his family doesn’t realize he is missing? Lots of ideas came to mind as she grappled with the notion that someone could just leave a child out on a highway, alone. She felt great sadness then, and her eyes brimmed with tears. As Leigh checked her surroundings one last time, she looked for anything she could remember to describe to the police where she had found him. She couldn’t fully estimate how far she had driven from work, and there was nothing distinguishing that could be seen in the darkness of the night sky.

She needed to think quickly and come up with a solution to find this place again. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into her head. She asked the child to be patient and to wait as she grabbed her leather jacket from the backseat. Thankful for its bright red color, she returned to the place where she first discovered the boy. I guess I’ll finally get some use from you after all, she said and created a small clearing to lay the jacket. She selected the heaviest rock she could to secure it. A few moments later, Leigh returned to the boy and checked his seatbelt one last time. She pressed down the lock button on the inside panel and shut the passenger side door.

When she was certain all seemed safe, Leigh rushed around the back of the vehicle to enter the driver’s side door that she had left ajar. She had one leg in and began to sit when she realized the boy was gone. Startled, she leaped out before she had taken a seat. She looked inside the car with disbelieving eyes. She had not heard him open the door to exit and, remarkably, the passenger’s side door was still locked.

What in the hell? What is going on? she shouted. She stood upright, holding on to her door, and looked all around and listened for any sounds or movement. She wanted to call out to him, but she hadn’t yet discovered his name and feared there might be something funny going on. Frightened, Leigh got inside her car, locked the door, and just sat there with her nerves on edge. She felt uncomfortable again but too nervous to just drive away. Leigh found herself questioning every step she had made since she left The Brandywine.

She turned on the interior lights and examined the passenger side and rear seats. There was no dirt. No impression in the microfiber of the cushions. No dampness from his saturated clothing. No evidence whatsoever that he had even been in her car. She gazed into the rearview mirror. There was nothing behind her but the street. Leigh could hear her heartbeat pounding in her eardrums.

She quickly removed her cell phone from its charger and began to dial 9-1-1 but stopped suddenly. What would they say? Would they think I’m crazy? she wondered. Earlier that evening, she had tossed back a shot of whiskey with two other servers before leaving work, and it had been just one year ago that she had wrecked her car in a drunk-driving accident. It took thousands of dollars, alcohol classes, and hours of community service just to get her vehicle back and driving privileges restored. She breathed into her hand and tried to sniff for the smell of alcohol. She just couldn’t be sure and decided it was far too big of a risk to call the police for assistance.

Leigh turned off the ignition and got out to check her surroundings once more. She decided to call a friend to stay on the phone with her while she searched for the boy. After the second ring, Gentry Morris answered the call.

Hello? said Gentry.

Hey, G, did you make it home already? asked Leigh.

Gentry yawned loudly. Yes. I got home about five minutes ago. Listen, I’m not going to the bar with you tonight, Leigh. I’m still hung-over from yesterday and work kicked my ass tonight. Are you out? she asked.

I was going to go out, Leigh replied. I’m actually out on Route 83. Something weird is going on, and I want you to stay on the phone with me, OK? I just need you to be quiet and stay on the line and listen. Gentry agreed and quietly waited on the other end of the phone while Leigh walked around the dark stretch of highway.

After a few minutes of looking and listening, Leigh realized the boy was long gone. She went back to the place where she had left her red jacket. The rock still sat in place, on top of it, so she knew she hadn’t imagined him. She picked up her jacket, dusted some of the leaves and dirt from it, and tossed it into the passenger’s side of her car. Are you alright? Gentry asked impatiently.

Yes, I’m OK. I’ll tell you everything at work tomorrow. I’m heading home now, said Leigh, her voice tinged with frustration. Gentry reminded her that they needed to be at work at 11 a.m. They would both be working a double shift and she needed her to be ready. I’ll be there, said Leigh, and she gazed at the time on her interior clock. It read 10:35 p.m. Leigh’s heart skipped a beat and the tiny hairs of her arms stood up.

As she disconnected the call, she leaned in closer to look at the time. She narrowed her eyes and tapped on the digital display. That can’t be right! she thought. Suddenly, the time advanced another minute and she sat in her vehicle, perplexed. She was sure at least fifteen minutes had passed since she first arrived at the scene. Nothing was making sense. She had been sure of the time when she arrived, and now it seemed as if time had stood still. She was beginning to wonder if she was losing her mind and decided it was best to leave. She put her key in the ignition and after one last look back, she returned to the highway and continued the drive to her apartment building, ten miles away in the village of Lemont.

As she pulled her vehicle to the curb, she felt angry with herself for having taken that shot of whiskey. Leigh knew the whole situation could have had a different outcome if only she had took a pass. Still, she worried about the boy. Leigh knew she didn’t imagine him, but she also knew nobody else would believe her story. Drunks aren’t taken seriously, she said to herself and removed the