Cecilia, or Cece as I used to call her, was still the same girl I remembered from North California High School. We had gone together our freshman and sophomore years, but then the summer before our junior year she had her braces removed, gained weight in all the right places, and began using a hair straightener. People started noticing her, and that's when our relationship started deteriorating. We broke up on a warm afternoon at a house party I wasn't invited to. I guess we both needed the break.
Now, four years, two relationships each, and three years of college later, and she looked exactly the same. Her blonde hair was shorter though, curling inwards slightly at the ends, and stopping just short of her jaw.
I imagined I still looked the same. Taller perhaps, but not much else. I was still the same thin and lanky kid with glasses, the kid who read too much even for his own good. But at least now my appreciation for books was rewarded. I loved my major, and I excelled at almost all my classes.
We followed the light from my headlights closer to the calm water of Lake Berryessa and I shifted the plastic bag with our Colas in it from one hand to the other as Cecelia picked a spot for us to sit. When we finally settled down, I handed her a can and opened my own.
"How are you Bryan?" she asked as she sipped her Cola.
I nodded. "M'alright. Fancy seeing you today. It's been what, four years?"
She smiled. "Yes, long time no talk. How's Pacific Union? You like it there, don'tcha?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. It's great actually."
"What is it you said you were studying?"
"Pre-Law, with history and psych."
"You always were the smarty pants," she said as she dug her sandals into the sand. "How's Amy doing?"
Amy was my girlfriend. She went to Pacific Union, too. "She's good." And because it was too short of an answer, I added, "She's into that whole Animal Rescue thing."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
We sit silently for a few minutes, each engulfed in their own thoughts. The best thing about it all was that it wasn't an elevator silence, where the awkward tenseness is thick enough to slice through with a butter knife. No, this was different. Comfortable almost.
I sip my Cola and look up at the sky. The stars were shining brilliantly tonight, and I laid down in the sand and linked my fingers behind my head. I always told myself if I hadn't been a pre-law major I'd be an astronomy major. The stars, I told myself, they were what fascinated me. They were dazzling, always. I used to wonder what their secret was.
"You still think about the starts, don’tcha?"
I laughed sheepishly. I still wonder what their secret is. "You ever hear the story of Andromeda?" I finally ask her.
She put her Cola down, pushed it down securely into it's own little sand cup-holder, and laid down a few feet away, her hands linked behind her head as well. "Tell me."
I watch the constellation, diamonds against an ebony velvet quilt, and begin the story. "She was a beautiful princess, born to King Cepheus of Ethiopia and his boastful queen, Cassiopeia. One day, Queen Cassiopeia foolishly bragged that she was more beautiful than Juno, who was queen of the Gods. When Juno found out, she was furious, and she asked her husband, King Neptune, to send a sea monster to ravage the Ethiopian coast. Cepheus was horrified and pleaded with Neptune to remove the curse on their Ethiopian seas. Neptune, of course, wouldn't listen; he told Cepheus that the only way Juno would be appeased was if Andromeda, the virgin princess of Ethiopia, was sacrificed to the sea monster. And so, Andromeda was dutifully chained to a rock, awaiting the jaws of the sea monster. Fortunately for her, Perseus--"
"Is that the guy who killed Medusa?"
"Yes, the very one. Matter of fact, Perseus was on his way back from killing Medusa when he saw Andromeda chained to the rock in the middle of the sea. And he fell in love with her. So he--"
"Bryan," Cecelia was sitting up on her elbows now, squinting curiously into the darkness. "There's a man in the trees over there."
I don't sit up, I continue watching the stars. "He's probably a picnicer, Cece."
"He seems a little odd."
"Many people do."
"And this is an odd hour for a picnic, don'tcha think?" she snapped.
"Cecilia, do you want to hear the rest of the story?" She glared at me. "I'll talk, and you keep your eyes on the man in the trees. Fair enough?"
She huffed at my indifference and sat up, brushing sand out of her hair. "Go on then. He fell in love with her."
Even in the darkness, I can see her eyes focused on the trees behind us.
"He did, and he asked her why she was chained to a rock. After much persisting on his part, she finally told him the name of her country, and her own name, and how her mother, a beautiful woman, was too confident in her beauty."
"Bryan, I can't find him. I don't know where he's gone."
"God, Cece. You say it like it’s a bad thing. Good riddance."
"I have a bad feeling about this, Bryan."
"So Perseus went to the King and Queen of Ethipia and made them an offer--"
"Bryan," Cece was suddenly inches away from me, her fingernails digging into my flesh. She squeezed my arm. "Bryan, he's wearing a mask," she squeaked. "And he's coming this way."
I bolted up, and sure enough, standing a few feet away from us was a man in a mask, with sunglasses on top.
"Oh my God," Cece stammered. "Oh my God, he's got a gun!"
And sure enough, sticking out of the waist band of his pleated trousers was a gun. I try to raise my hands in the universal sign of submission, which was a task in itself, as Cece was still attached to my right arm.
"What do you want?" I ask him, albeit a pointless question. I figured I already knew what he wanted; I had studied the criminal mind in several of my psychology classes and knew a thing or two. That gun, for instance? Probably no bullets. It was just a scare tactic.
"I need your help."
And then I laughed sheepishly.
"Listen Mac, you're welcome to what ever is in my pockets, but you'll only find seventy-five cents." He doesn't answer me, just moves closer. "I can't help you right now, but if you need help that badly, I can probably help you out in some other way maybe. There's no strings attached, I can write you a check or something, and we can both just--"
"Nah, time's runnin' out." I look at him questioningly. "I just broke out of Mountain Lodge Prison and I killed a security guard. They're lookin' for me."
I snicker silently. The man was about 5'11" and chunky, and Mountain Lodge was in Montana, which is almost 1,300 miles away from here. Not the survivor type. Plus, the prison break would have been on the news at least.
"Hey, man, I don't mean to blow your bluff or anything, but wouldn't you rather hijack my car and be stuck in a stealing charge rather than a homicide threat? Y'know?"
"Don't start playin' hero on me," he spits. "And don't you try to take the gun out of my hands neither. I seen the way you're eyeballin' it!" So I decide not to lunge for his gun just yet.
I sigh. "Y'know, you're really wasting you're time with us. I've got this much change and probably a billfold in my car, but that's it really."
He tossed a rope toward us and it landed at our feet. Where he got the rope from? I hadn't the slightest idea.
"Girl, tie him up," he orders. "I'd feel much better if you were tied up."
I put my hands behind my back and look at Cece as she ties the rope around my wrists, binding them together. "You know, I think I can get that gun," I whispered to her. Her head snaps up and her fearful eyes say no, that it's a bad idea. And I figured that since there were two lives at stake here, and not just my own, I wouldn't try to get his gun.
After Cece had finished putting a few loose knots on me, he walked over and inspected her work. He snarled something unintelligible about her being an idiot girl and he tightened the knots. Then he tied up Cece similarly, and I could hear her sobbing softly.
"Okay, lay down," he says to me as he removes his mask and sunglasses. "I've got her tied up."
"Aw, c'mon man, don't make us lay down! We could be here for hours!"
"Get down!"
"We could freeze to death, dammit!"
"I SAID GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!"
And so he grabs Cece first and pushes her onto her stomach in the sand and binds her ankles. I look at him carefully for the first time all night. He was two inches shorter than me, but he probably had a good fifty to sixty pounds on me. His hair was dark brown and disheveled from when he pulled his mask off. His clothes weren't expensive, I noted. A navy blue windbreaker that was zipped up at the front, over pleated pants. He looks at me.
"I can fix this," I begin, my eyes serious. He grabs my arm. "I can help you!" I try to shout, but I don't finish the sentence. I eat a mouthful of sand instead as he pushes me into the sand and binds my ankles tightly.
"Do you have bullets in there?" I ask him, spitting sand. I can't see his face, I can barely see anything at all, but seeing didn't matter just then. It was what I heard. I heard the dull sound of a piece of metal hit the sand, and the sound of metal against metal as more bullets fell into the sand beside my head as he emptied out his clip, letting them fall to the ground as he laughed. I could see the bullets laying in the sand now and my breath caught in my throat. This monster was going to kill us.
And then it wasn't about seeing, or hearing.
"You still think about the starts, don’tcha?"
I laughed sheepishly. I still wonder what their secret is. "You ever hear the story of Andromeda?" I finally ask her.
She put her Cola down, pushed it down securely into it's own little sand cup-holder, and laid down a few feet away, her hands linked behind her head as well. "Tell me."
I watch the constellation, diamonds against an ebony velvet quilt, and begin the story. "She was a beautiful princess, born to King Cepheus of Ethiopia and his boastful queen, Cassiopeia. One day, Queen Cassiopeia foolishly bragged that she was more beautiful than Juno, who was queen of the Gods. When Juno found out, she was furious, and she asked her husband, King Neptune, to send a sea monster to ravage the Ethiopian coast. Cepheus was horrified and pleaded with Neptune to remove the curse on their Ethiopian seas. Neptune, of course, wouldn't listen; he told Cepheus that the only way Juno would be appeased was if Andromeda, the virgin princess of Ethiopia, was sacrificed to the sea monster. And so, Andromeda was dutifully chained to a rock, awaiting the jaws of the sea monster. Fortunately for her, Perseus--"
"Is that the guy who killed Medusa?"
"Yes, the very one. Matter of fact, Perseus was on his way back from killing Medusa when he saw Andromeda chained to the rock in the middle of the sea. And he fell in love with her. So he--"
"Bryan," Cecelia was sitting up on her elbows now, squinting curiously into the darkness. "There's a man in the trees over there."
I don't sit up, I continue watching the stars. "He's probably a picnicer, Cece."
"He seems a little odd."
"Many people do."
"And this is an odd hour for a picnic, don'tcha think?" she snapped.
"Cecilia, do you want to hear the rest of the story?" She glared at me. "I'll talk, and you keep your eyes on the man in the trees. Fair enough?"
She huffed at my indifference and sat up, brushing sand out of her hair. "Go on then. He fell in love with her."
Even in the darkness, I can see her eyes focused on the trees behind us.
"He did, and he asked her why she was chained to a rock. After much persisting on his part, she finally told him the name of her country, and her own name, and how her mother, a beautiful woman, was too confident in her beauty."
"Bryan, I can't find him. I don't know where he's gone."
"God, Cece. You say it like it’s a bad thing. Good riddance."
"I have a bad feeling about this, Bryan."
"So Perseus went to the King and Queen of Ethipia and made them an offer--"
"Bryan," Cece was suddenly inches away from me, her fingernails digging into my flesh. She squeezed my arm. "Bryan, he's wearing a mask," she squeaked. "And he's coming this way."
I bolted up, and sure enough, standing a few feet away from us was a man in a mask, with sunglasses on top.
"Oh my God," Cece stammered. "Oh my God, he's got a gun!"
And sure enough, sticking out of the waist band of his pleated trousers was a gun. I try to raise my hands in the universal sign of submission, which was a task in itself, as Cece was still attached to my right arm.
"What do you want?" I ask him, albeit a pointless question. I figured I already knew what he wanted; I had studied the criminal mind in several of my psychology classes and knew a thing or two. That gun, for instance? Probably no bullets. It was just a scare tactic.
"I need your help."
And then I laughed sheepishly.
"Listen Mac, you're welcome to what ever is in my pockets, but you'll only find seventy-five cents." He doesn't answer me, just moves closer. "I can't help you right now, but if you need help that badly, I can probably help you out in some other way maybe. There's no strings attached, I can write you a check or something, and we can both just--"
"Nah, time's runnin' out." I look at him questioningly. "I just broke out of Mountain Lodge Prison and I killed a security guard. They're lookin' for me."
I snicker silently. The man was about 5'11" and chunky, and Mountain Lodge was in Montana, which is almost 1,300 miles away from here. Not the survivor type. Plus, the prison break would have been on the news at least.
"Hey, man, I don't mean to blow your bluff or anything, but wouldn't you rather hijack my car and be stuck in a stealing charge rather than a homicide threat? Y'know?"
"Don't start playin' hero on me," he spits. "And don't you try to take the gun out of my hands neither. I seen the way you're eyeballin' it!" So I decide not to lunge for his gun just yet.
I sigh. "Y'know, you're really wasting you're time with us. I've got this much change and probably a billfold in my car, but that's it really."
He tossed a rope toward us and it landed at our feet. Where he got the rope from? I hadn't the slightest idea.
"Girl, tie him up," he orders. "I'd feel much better if you were tied up."
I put my hands behind my back and look at Cece as she ties the rope around my wrists, binding them together. "You know, I think I can get that gun," I whispered to her. Her head snaps up and her fearful eyes say no, that it's a bad idea. And I figured that since there were two lives at stake here, and not just my own, I wouldn't try to get his gun.
After Cece had finished putting a few loose knots on me, he walked over and inspected her work. He snarled something unintelligible about her being an idiot girl and he tightened the knots. Then he tied up Cece similarly, and I could hear her sobbing softly.
"Okay, lay down," he says to me as he removes his mask and sunglasses. "I've got her tied up."
"Aw, c'mon man, don't make us lay down! We could be here for hours!"
"Get down!"
"We could freeze to death, dammit!"
"I SAID GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!"
And so he grabs Cece first and pushes her onto her stomach in the sand and binds her ankles. I look at him carefully for the first time all night. He was two inches shorter than me, but he probably had a good fifty to sixty pounds on me. His hair was dark brown and disheveled from when he pulled his mask off. His clothes weren't expensive, I noted. A navy blue windbreaker that was zipped up at the front, over pleated pants. He looks at me.
"I can fix this," I begin, my eyes serious. He grabs my arm. "I can help you!" I try to shout, but I don't finish the sentence. I eat a mouthful of sand instead as he pushes me into the sand and binds my ankles tightly.
"Do you have bullets in there?" I ask him, spitting sand. I can't see his face, I can barely see anything at all, but seeing didn't matter just then. It was what I heard. I heard the dull sound of a piece of metal hit the sand, and the sound of metal against metal as more bullets fell into the sand beside my head as he emptied out his clip, letting them fall to the ground as he laughed. I could see the bullets laying in the sand now and my breath caught in my throat. This monster was going to kill us.
And then it wasn't about seeing, or hearing.
It's what I felt.
I felt a sharp pain shoot up my spine and I cried out. And then again, and again, and again, and I felt a sharp sensation in my back, under my shoulder. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe right, like someone had deflated one of my lungs. And that's when I heard Cece screaming for him to stop, and surprisingly, the sharp pain ceased. And that's when Cece stopped screaming and started shrieking. I didn't know what was going on, so I turned my head toward her to see what was happening, and that's when I saw him stabbing her repeatedly. I tried to scream out, but my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my lips were dry. My voice was hoarse and I couldn't speak. I watched him stab Cecilia seven times, I counted. And then he tossed his knife aside like a toddler tosses an unwanted toy and he put his hands in his pockets. He stood there for a few seconds admiring his work no doubt, and then turned around and walked away.
He left us for dead.
I hear myself yelling, "Help!" before I knew what I was doing. Cece was awfully quite. "Cece! Cecilia!" I roll over on my side, ignoring the searing pain that runs up my spine, and give her my back. "Cece, I need you to untie me. I can get us out of here, please Cecilia."
"I can't," she whispers, and her voice shakes me. I put my head down on the sand and stay quiet. I hadn't given up just yet. My heart rate was racing my mind, and I still couldn't breathe right. Thinking was a challenge when I was too busy concentrating on taking in oxygen, and suddenly I was remembering Robert Collier. He had once said, "As fast as each opportunity presents itself, use it!"
He left us for dead.
I hear myself yelling, "Help!" before I knew what I was doing. Cece was awfully quite. "Cece! Cecilia!" I roll over on my side, ignoring the searing pain that runs up my spine, and give her my back. "Cece, I need you to untie me. I can get us out of here, please Cecilia."
"I can't," she whispers, and her voice shakes me. I put my head down on the sand and stay quiet. I hadn't given up just yet. My heart rate was racing my mind, and I still couldn't breathe right. Thinking was a challenge when I was too busy concentrating on taking in oxygen, and suddenly I was remembering Robert Collier. He had once said, "As fast as each opportunity presents itself, use it!"
That's it. I was just waiting for an opportunity. I started seeing, not just looking, and I noticed that from the way my head was tilted, I could see the lake. And through the thickness of the night, I could see the lights of tug boats headed to shore.
"No matter how tiny an opportunity it may be, use it," I whisper, echoing Collier. One boat in particular is closer to us than the rest. I raise my head and shout, "Help! HELP US! HELP!" But the boat doesn't stop.
Time passes by, seconds blending into minutes, phasing into hours, and another boat passes by, this one a little slower, and I cry out for help. My heart is in my throat, and I can't seem to swallow it down, and I want to cry but I can't, because I can't breathe right, and my God, we were gonna die. We were gonna die.
But then the boat's motor turns off and the night is strangely silent. "Help us! We've been attacked!" I yell. I see a figure stand up in the boat. "HELP US! PLEASE!"
"Is he still there?" The man shouts back.
"No, he's gone! Just help us! PLEASE! My friend, she's hurt badly!" Truth is, I don't know if he's gone, but I didn't care. The worst was already happening.
And I get no response. So I roll over onto my back and stare up at the stars, and they shine on. And suddenly I hate them. I hate them so much. And I start crying. Not softly, no. I bawl and it doesn't matter to me that I can't breathe anymore. I can't remember the last time I cried, but it feels so good right now, to just let my warm tears bathe my scratched up face. And when I finally stop crying and regain my breath sounds, I stare at the stars, because they were still blatantly shining. They shone on while Cece and I got stabbed, they shone on while I called out for help from a world that didn't care, they shone on as I cried, and they'd keep shining while I died.
So I closed my eyes against them.
And I whispered my last dying prayer.
"What happened to Andromeda?" Cece asks, her voice in a barely audible whisper. I keep my eyes shut tightly and I ignore her. I don't want to hear her dying. I don't want her voice to be the last thing I hear before I die.
I don't want to be the last person she talks to before she dies.
And because I can't stand her question echoing in my ears, in my head, and in my conscious, I answer her.
Time passes by, seconds blending into minutes, phasing into hours, and another boat passes by, this one a little slower, and I cry out for help. My heart is in my throat, and I can't seem to swallow it down, and I want to cry but I can't, because I can't breathe right, and my God, we were gonna die. We were gonna die.
But then the boat's motor turns off and the night is strangely silent. "Help us! We've been attacked!" I yell. I see a figure stand up in the boat. "HELP US! PLEASE!"
"Is he still there?" The man shouts back.
"No, he's gone! Just help us! PLEASE! My friend, she's hurt badly!" Truth is, I don't know if he's gone, but I didn't care. The worst was already happening.
And I get no response. So I roll over onto my back and stare up at the stars, and they shine on. And suddenly I hate them. I hate them so much. And I start crying. Not softly, no. I bawl and it doesn't matter to me that I can't breathe anymore. I can't remember the last time I cried, but it feels so good right now, to just let my warm tears bathe my scratched up face. And when I finally stop crying and regain my breath sounds, I stare at the stars, because they were still blatantly shining. They shone on while Cece and I got stabbed, they shone on while I called out for help from a world that didn't care, they shone on as I cried, and they'd keep shining while I died.
So I closed my eyes against them.
And I whispered my last dying prayer.
"What happened to Andromeda?" Cece asks, her voice in a barely audible whisper. I keep my eyes shut tightly and I ignore her. I don't want to hear her dying. I don't want her voice to be the last thing I hear before I die.
I don't want to be the last person she talks to before she dies.
And because I can't stand her question echoing in my ears, in my head, and in my conscious, I answer her.
"Perseus made her parents an offer. He told them he'd kill the sea monster in exchange for Andromeda's hand in marriage. And they agreed. So he killed the monster and Andromeda is freed. The two joyously marry and they lived happily ever after." I pause for a minute, thinking. Then I continue slowly,"Andromeda is represented in the sky as the figure of a woman with her arms outstretched and chained at the wrists."
Cece is quiet for a few minutes, and then she speaks again. "Bryan, I think I can try untying you now."
And she reaches over and I feel her freezing fingers picking at the rope binding my hands.
And after what seems like hours, my hands are free.
I untie my ankles and then untie Cece, trying my best to ignore the numbness I feel. "Stay here," I say to her. "I'll go find help." She doesn't move, doesn't speak. "Cece!"
"I'm here."
"I'll come back for you, I promise."
So I push myself up and my legs don't move the way I want them to. I try to focus, but after twenty feet, I have to lay down and breathe. I count to fifty and try to get up, but decide maybe I can crawl and cover more distance that way. I search blindly for my headlights. They were supposed to be on. My vision is a little cloudy around the edges so I stop and count to fifty. Twice. I focus on breathing. I can see the road from where I am in the sand and I wonder what time it is. My alarm clock is going off, I can hear it. I frown, because today's Saturday. Or is it Sunday? Will someone silence that damn alarm? I can't seem to find the snooze button. Where is my flashlight?
They were supposed to be on.
But its not my alarm clock going off. Somehow, I'm laying in the sand by a phone stand, a few feet away from the road, and I assume I crawled there. The phone is hanging off its hook and the dial tone is beeping in my ear. Is the dial tone always that loud? I'll have to check it out when I wake up.
But I feel like I shouldn't be sleeping. And I can't see very well, there's all this darkness interrupting me. And my vision is hazy. Why am I so tired? Something…something was supposed to be on.
I wonder if I'm dreaming.
I see a car parked on the other side of the road. It's white and it has something scribbled on it in black marker.
And that's when it all comes rushing back. That's my car. My headlights are smashed.
They were supposed to be on.
And so I wonder...
Cece is quiet for a few minutes, and then she speaks again. "Bryan, I think I can try untying you now."
And she reaches over and I feel her freezing fingers picking at the rope binding my hands.
And after what seems like hours, my hands are free.
I untie my ankles and then untie Cece, trying my best to ignore the numbness I feel. "Stay here," I say to her. "I'll go find help." She doesn't move, doesn't speak. "Cece!"
"I'm here."
"I'll come back for you, I promise."
So I push myself up and my legs don't move the way I want them to. I try to focus, but after twenty feet, I have to lay down and breathe. I count to fifty and try to get up, but decide maybe I can crawl and cover more distance that way. I search blindly for my headlights. They were supposed to be on. My vision is a little cloudy around the edges so I stop and count to fifty. Twice. I focus on breathing. I can see the road from where I am in the sand and I wonder what time it is. My alarm clock is going off, I can hear it. I frown, because today's Saturday. Or is it Sunday? Will someone silence that damn alarm? I can't seem to find the snooze button. Where is my flashlight?
They were supposed to be on.
But its not my alarm clock going off. Somehow, I'm laying in the sand by a phone stand, a few feet away from the road, and I assume I crawled there. The phone is hanging off its hook and the dial tone is beeping in my ear. Is the dial tone always that loud? I'll have to check it out when I wake up.
But I feel like I shouldn't be sleeping. And I can't see very well, there's all this darkness interrupting me. And my vision is hazy. Why am I so tired? Something…something was supposed to be on.
I wonder if I'm dreaming.
I see a car parked on the other side of the road. It's white and it has something scribbled on it in black marker.
And that's when it all comes rushing back. That's my car. My headlights are smashed.
They were supposed to be on.
And so I wonder...
What happens when you find the light at the end of the tunnel? Only someone had taken a bat to it?
The preceding short story is based on a true event, one which occurred on September 27th, 1969. Bryan Hartnell and Cecelia Shepard were picnicking at Lake Berryessa on a small island connected by a sand spit to Twin Oak Ridge.
A man approached them wearing a black executioner's-type hood with clip-on sunglasses over the eye-holes and a bib-like device on his chest that had a white 3"x3" cross-circle symbol on it.
He approached them with a gun which Hartnell believed to be a .45. The hooded man claimed to be an escaped convict from Deer Lodge, Montana; where he killed a guard and stole a car, explaining that he needed their car and money to go to Mexico. He had brought precut lengths of plastic clothesline and told Shepard to tie up Hartnell, before he tied her up. The killer checked, and tightened, Hartnell's bonds after discovering Shepard had bound Hartnell's hands loosely. Hartnell initially believed it to be a weird robbery, but the man drew a knife and stabbed them both repeatedly.
The killer then hiked 500 yards back up to Knoxville Road, drew the cross-circle symbol on Hartnell's car door with a black felt-tip pen, and wrote beneath it: "Vallejo/12-20-68/7-4-69/Sept 27-69-6:30/by knife."
* * *
The preceding short story is based on a true event, one which occurred on September 27th, 1969. Bryan Hartnell and Cecelia Shepard were picnicking at Lake Berryessa on a small island connected by a sand spit to Twin Oak Ridge.
A man approached them wearing a black executioner's-type hood with clip-on sunglasses over the eye-holes and a bib-like device on his chest that had a white 3"x3" cross-circle symbol on it.
He approached them with a gun which Hartnell believed to be a .45. The hooded man claimed to be an escaped convict from Deer Lodge, Montana; where he killed a guard and stole a car, explaining that he needed their car and money to go to Mexico. He had brought precut lengths of plastic clothesline and told Shepard to tie up Hartnell, before he tied her up. The killer checked, and tightened, Hartnell's bonds after discovering Shepard had bound Hartnell's hands loosely. Hartnell initially believed it to be a weird robbery, but the man drew a knife and stabbed them both repeatedly.
The killer then hiked 500 yards back up to Knoxville Road, drew the cross-circle symbol on Hartnell's car door with a black felt-tip pen, and wrote beneath it: "Vallejo/12-20-68/7-4-69/Sept 27-69-6:30/by knife."
At 7:40 p.m., the killer called the Napa County Sheriff's office from a pay telephone to report his crime. The phone was found, still off the hook. Detectives were able to lift a still-wet palm print from the telephone but were never able to match it to any suspect.
After hearing their screams for help, a man and his son who were fishing in a nearby cove discovered the victims and summoned help by contacting park rangers. Napa County Sheriff's deputies Dave Collins and Ray Land were the first law enforcement officers to arrive at the crime scene. Cecelia Shepard was conscious when Collins arrived, providing him with a detailed description of the attacker. Hartnell and Shepard were taken to Queen of the Valley Hospital in Napa by ambulance. Shepard lapsed into a coma during transport to the hospital and never regained consciousness. She died two days later, but Hartnell survived to recount his tale to the press. Napa County Sheriff Detective Ken Narlow, who was assigned to the case from the outset, worked on solving the crime until his retirement from the department in 1987.
After hearing their screams for help, a man and his son who were fishing in a nearby cove discovered the victims and summoned help by contacting park rangers. Napa County Sheriff's deputies Dave Collins and Ray Land were the first law enforcement officers to arrive at the crime scene. Cecelia Shepard was conscious when Collins arrived, providing him with a detailed description of the attacker. Hartnell and Shepard were taken to Queen of the Valley Hospital in Napa by ambulance. Shepard lapsed into a coma during transport to the hospital and never regained consciousness. She died two days later, but Hartnell survived to recount his tale to the press. Napa County Sheriff Detective Ken Narlow, who was assigned to the case from the outset, worked on solving the crime until his retirement from the department in 1987.
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