The Watcher

Silence is subtle in the wild; forests oscillate between bustle and quiet, with moments of silence found only deep in the night, tucked between the hoots of owls. Addy felt the quiet before she consciously noted it. When she realized that she hadn’t heard any life stirring in hours, her eyes shot to the clock: 12:47am. She finished editing her photo of a grizzly cub, which had cost her hours outside in almost-freezing temperatures of a Yellowstone spring.

Addy forced a yawn in hopes of persuading her body that it was tired. She saved the photo and began to close out of her editing software when the photo caught her eye; it was the last photo before the bear shoot. She clicked on the thumbnail, enlarging it.

The photo was equal parts eerie and beautiful: a striking white barn owl standing stoically on a fence post, eyes half-closed, or perhaps narrowly focused on prey. The photo was well framed, adequately lit, and in focus, all telltale signs that it had been taken by an experienced photographer.

A chill slivered down Addy’s spine; she had no recollection of taking the photo. And a photo this remarkable was not something she would forget.

Addy took exceptional care of her gear and never lent it out to anyone. Even as she trudged into isolated areas of untamed land, her camera never left her physical person, except when she set it up to record overnight, which she hadn’t done in months. At all other times, it was either in her hands, around her neck, or in her backpack.

She knew there must be a rational explanation for the photo. Addy exerted a significant amount of effort trying to locate a scenario that would explain the presence of the haunting portrait. She came up short.

Worry gripped her and she was overcome by the need to reach out to someone for assurance. But it was 1am and she didn’t want to disturb anyone’s sleep over something for which there was likely a plausible explanation that just eluded her in her exhausted state.

So instead, she shuffled over to her nightstand and picked up the familiar bottle. She’d take an Ambien, get a good night’s sleep, and it would all make sense in the morning.

The morning arrived but it failed to bring any clarity. The fear, however, dissipated a bit in the light of day.

Addy stumbled out of her room and made a beeline for the coffeemaker. She found her roommate in the kitchen frothing milk.

“Morning, Chris.”

“Morning,” he mumbled.

“Hey, I have a weird question. You’ve never borrowed my camera, right?”

“What? That $10,000 mirrorless set up that has literally won you awards? No. I’ll keep to my modest little 2017 Cannon DSLR.”

“Yeah, I figured. I just, this is weird but I found a photo I don’t remember taking.”

Chris turned to face her and tilted his head. “Huh. How sure are you that you didn’t take it? Is it a photo of somewhere you’ve never been or is it possible you just forgot? With as many pics as we take, it’s easy to forget.”

“True,” Addy responded, pondering. “I can’t tell exactly where it is. But it’s just a random photo in the middle of several of my grizzly shoots. I’ve never gone out and just taken a single photo.”

The creases between his eyes deepened. His eyes shot wide. “OH!” He exclaimed. “Ambien. You take Ambien. Aren’t there tons of stories of people doing things they don’t remember on that shit?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve occasionally done things that I’ve forgotten. But I don’t think I’ve ever left the cabin.”

“Well, there’s always a first time, I guess,” he replied, confident that he’d solved the mystery.

Addy was less sure.

“Hey,” Chris shot over his shoulder as he hurried back to his room, “if a package comes for me today can you text me? I’m running low on my favorite nail polish and this supply chain kerfuffle seems intent on keeping Moon Tear Teal out of my hands.”

“Sure yeah of course,” she said, thankful for the change in subject. If he wasn’t alarmed, she was probably overreacting.

Later that day Addy drove to the north entrance and met up with her contact.

“What’s the spot tonight?” She asked. Max worked at Mammoth Hot Springs Cabin Center and took visitors on daily trips to Lamar Valley to get shots of buffalo, pronghorn, and to try and spot the elusive wolf packs.

“The packs have been spotted deep in the valley, near the northeast entrance for the last several days.”

“Thanks, Max.” She hesitated. “Hey, have there been any reports of missing cameras?”

Concern crossed his face. He replied, “no, not that I’ve heard. Did someone steal your camera?”

“Not exactly. It’s nothing, I’m sure. It’s just that I found a photo I don’t remember taking, and was wondering if someone on staff was maybe pranking photographers.”

“That seems like an elaborate prank with little payoff.”

“Yeah totally. I’m sure I must have taken it myself. Maybe I did some Ambien-induced sleep-walking.”

The wolves wouldn’t be out until dusk, so Addy made the hour-long drive and found an off-trail area to set up her tent. She trekked a few hundred feet away from where she set up her tent, and set up her camera to take photos throughout the night, recording anytime it sensed movement.

For most people in a state of fear and vulnerability, staying alone in the wilderness might be the last choice they would make. But Addy felt safer in the forest than she did amongst people. She decided to camp because of her fear, not in spite of it. She had bear spray, a Garmin GPS locater with emergency alert, and the good sense to keep to herself when wild creatures were afoot.

Humans were not so easily dealt with.

Despite feeling hidden amongst the trees, safely within the protection of the ancient forests that made Yellowstone famous, Addy found it difficult to sleep. She popped an Ambien and tried to focus on the chorus of nocturnal beings. She drifted off to the howl of far-away coyotes.

Addy awakened to the coo of morning doves and popped out of bed, eager to see whether her camera had captured anything of interest.

The first photo contained a curious jackrabbit, sniffing the camera lens. The second and third shots captured of three wolves sauntering in a line, facing away from the camera. Excitement shot through her senses at the thought that she had slept in such close proximity to the beautiful beings.

As she scrolled to the next photo, Addy was assaulted by abject terror. The fourth photo appeared to be a self-portrait of a man in a hoodie, squatting down to the level of the camera, staring directly into the lense. Only the subject’s eyes were lit, with most of his face covered by shadow. Intensity reverberated from his gaze, connecting with a part of her that made her feel watched.

Addy yelped, the thrumming of her heart drowning out all other sound. She felt dizzy, but her adrenaline kicked in and she furiously packed up all of her gear, not pausing to process the implications.

She drove back to Mammoth, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her fingers went white.

“Hey Max, have you ever seen this person?” She pulled out her camera and scrolled to the photo.

“Hmmmm. Can’t really tell who it is. Lighting is bad. It could be my brother and I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah.” She frowned and put her phone away. “Thanks anyway.”

Hours later, she sat in front of her computer editing the previous evening’s shots; it was the only distraction that required enough focus to keep it off of her disturbing visitor.

When she heard the cabin door open, Addy was overcome with relief.

“Hey Chris,” she called over her shoulder, “get any good shots?”

“Nah. Today was all commissions – geysers and hot springs for next year’s brochure. You know, the same shit every local photog has taken a thousand times.”

“Pays the bills,” she said, adding nothing to the conversation but desperate to keep it going for the company.

“You ok?” He asked, apparently noticing Addy’s frenetic energy.

“Yeah I’m just creeped out by some camper who posed for an overnight photo while I was sleeping.”

“That’s hella creepy,” Chris said, which made her feel better. “But I’ve heard of people doing that. They think they’re being clever or whatever.”

He was right, Addy thought. She was being paranoid. It was surely just some jackass camper.

As the park quieted, her focus sharpened. She opened a set of shots she’d taken a few weeks prior that she hadn’t yet gotten around to editing. She brightened where she wanted the viewer’s attention to go, deepening the inky hues that served as a frame of her night portraits. She isolated aspects of each photo that distracted from the subject and removed most of them, leaving those that added richness to the scene.

As she zoomed to the edge of one shot, she noticed a figure whose body was partly obscured by the trunk of a large oak tree. His attention, however, seemed squarely focused into the camera. She zoomed in further and her spine tingled. It was him, or someone with the same look and the same energy. He wore a dark hoodie and stared intently through the lens as if he wanted her to know she was being watched.

She jumped up from her computer and backed away. It’s probably nothing, she said to herself, maybe a hiker simply noticed her taking photos and tried to move out of frame. There was no reason to think this was the same person that skulked around outside her tent.

Still, it seemed that she was concocting a lot of half-baked explanations to calm herself of late. She popped an Ambien and turned on some reruns of The Office to fall asleep to.

Addy awoke the next morning to the sensation that she was being watched. Though she was groggier than usual, she bolted upright and scanned her room. No one was there. Her gaze settled on her camera bag. There was a part of her that already knew.

She took a deep breath and unzipped the bag, powering on the camera with shaking hands. She pressed the play button to pull up the latest shots. The camera jumped out of her hands and onto her bed. If she screamed, she didn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in her ears.

It was a single picture. Of Addy. Sleeping.

“CHRIS!” She screamed, running out of her room, afraid of who might be out there, but too terrified to stay in the room where she knew her photographer had been.

The cabin was empty. Hands still trembling, she texted him: Where r u?

His response was immediate. I stayed at Alex’s. Why? Wut’s wrong?

Did you take a pic of me? As a prank? I swear to god Chris you better tell me. It’s not funny anymore.

WTF no I didn’t. You’re scaring me.

20 minutes later Chris bounded through the door.

“Girl. Show me.”

Addy pulled up the photo, handing the camera to him without looking at it again.

“You have to go to the police,” he said.

“Yeah ok sure but what are they gonna do?”

“I know. Cops don’t ever solve shit like this. It will just be a police report buried in a pile of ten thousand other reports.”

“Maybe we should put up a doorbell camera,” Addy suggested.

“I mean they’re like three hundred bucks or some shit but ok I’ll go halfsies with you.”

“Ok let’s go get it now. I can’t sleep another night in this cabin, not with all the Ambien in the world.”

Addy sat up that night incessantly checking the doorbell camera feed. She reloaded it every 30 seconds or so, even though it was already set to record any movement. 11pm rolled around and she was as so alert that felt strung out from the tension. She refused to take Ambien, afraid of what would happen to her in an unconscious state.

Instead, she creeped out to the kitchen to grab some chamomile tea, trying not to wake Chris. She failed. He stumbled out of his room rubbing his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just can’t sleep. Grabbing some tea.”

Her phone buzzed. It was an alert from the doorbell camera. Addy yelped. She opened the app and looked at the video.

A man in a hoodie walked by the door and out of frame. He didn’t glance at her door but seemed to be in a hurry.

“Hmmmm,” Chris said, watching it a second time. “I mean everyone wears hoodies this time of year. Like 90% of men. It’s probably just someone trying to find the bathrooms or their cabin. They didn’t even pause in front of the door.”

Addy couldn’t help herself. She threw on a jacket and rushed outside. The cold air bit as the door creaked close behind her.

She looked left and right. Her eyes settled on a figure several cabins down. She recognized something about him. As she took a few steps in his direction, the realization hit her.

“Max! What are you doing out so late?”

“Asks the night owl herself,” he said, chuckling.

“Touché,” she said, but maintained her expectant look.

“You know,” he said, “I’m not just a tour guide. I have a little after-hours gig going on. People need things in the dark of night. I'm here for a meet.” He winked. “You need some k? Maybe some weed?”

Addy had heard that Max sold to the tourists, and at quite the markup since he was the only game in town.

“No thanks, man. Did you see anyone in a hoodie walk by?”

Max laughed. “Yeah a couple. People are stumbling home drunk from campfire time. You trippin?” He asked. “You seem a little shook.”

“Some weird shit has been going down,” she said. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Is this about that photo? Because I asked around and there’s some fishy business.”

“Wait, what? You heard something?” Addy didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved.

“Yeah rumor is that there’s a dude stealing chicks’ phones, taking pictures of shit, and of himself, and then he takes pictures of them sleeping, and then,” he trailed off.

“And then WHAT, Max?”

“They’re saying they disappear. Like maybe some sex trafficking shit or maybe he kills them. No one knows. It’s hush hush with the cops right now because they don’t got any leads. They don’t want attention on it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away, Max? This is terrifying.”

“You didn’t say anything about pictures of some dude, or pictures of you. I didn’t think they were connected until you showed up in this state.”

15 minutes later, Addy found herself rocking back and forth in the stiff chair of police waiting room.

“Adeline Morten, you can come with me.”

She picked up her camera bag and followed the detective. She told him everything that had happened, from the first photo to the photo of her while she was sleeping.

“Why didn’t you come in the moment you found the photo of you sleeping?” The detective asked, suspicious.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to do much. We all hear the stories of women not being believed about these things. I thought you might say it was just a prank of a friend or something.”

“Ms. Morten, you are not safe. We’ve had three missing persons in the past two months that follow a similar pattern. First the victim finds a photo of a stranger on her phone or camera. Then the victim finds a photo of herself sleeping. And then, well, before we get ahead of ourselves, would you mind if we ran some tests? We have a theory.”

“Sure,” said Addy. “But what are you looking for?”

“Let’s take this one step at a time. We’ll run some bloodwork and take a urine sample and call you in the morning with the results.”

“There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep. Can I stay here until the results come back?”

“Sure, we’ve got somewhere we can keep you safe.” He left her in a private room probably used for interrogations.

After what seemed like an eternity, there was a firm knock.

“Come in.”

“Ms. Morten, we got your results back,” the officer said, stepping through the door. “Do you take any drugs? Recreationally?”

“What? Um, no. I mean weed from time to time. Just Ambien for sleep sometimes.”

The officer looked confused, glancing back down at the clipboard in his hand.

“There was no Ambien in your system.” He paused, apparently understanding the gravity of what he would say next. “We found only ketamine.”

“What? K? There has to be some mix-up. I’ve never done K.”

“In that case, this provides a much-needed clue as to how our perpetrator operates. It appears he may be drugging his victims.”

Addy’s head spun. How was this possible? Why was the Ambien not in her system? Who gave her K, and how?

“Ms. Morten, can you go stay somewhere else? With family maybe?”

She rushed back home and feverishly packed a bag. She told Chris the story in a frenzy, voice shaking.

“I’m coming with you! I’m not tryin’ to get killed in your place!”

“Fine, my parents are out of town anyway so I won’t have to explain that I’m living with a dude I met on Craigslist,” she laughed, grateful for the company.

Two hours later they sat on her parents’ worn couch in Bozeman, scrolling through social media, with the local news playing for ambient noise since her parents didn’t have good cable or streaming.

“BREAKING NEWS. Authorities say there have been multiple missing persons reports filed for women vacationing in Yellowstone, with eerily similar stories.”

“Holy shit,” Addy said, staring up at the TV. Chris tensed.

“Officers say that the perpetrator drugs the women with ketamine, takes photos of himself and then photographs the women sleeping before they go missing. If you have any information, please call the number at the bottom of the screen. There has been scant evidence at the crime scenes, though officers have confirmed that a chip of nail polish has been found at one crime scene, a color known as Moon Tear Teal.