Chapter 5: The File Marked 'Do Not Open'

Maybe it was a job, not just an adventure. Maybe he was looking for something real—something dangerous.

If so, could Aaron really still be alive?

I wanted to believe it. But if he was, why hadn’t he come home?

Was his death faked?

I thought about the video, the missing body. It was possible, in a crazy, desperate way.

After all, they never found his body—just a video from his companions showing him falling from the cliff.

What if the video was staged? What if Aaron had planned the whole thing?

Could it be that, for some reason, he didn’t dare show himself?

Maybe he was in trouble. Maybe he was running from something—or someone.

Maybe my next step should be to find those two who went with Aaron and figure out what they were really looking for in the Black Ridge.

If anyone knew the truth, it would be them. I made up my mind to track them down.

I asked Natalie if she had their contact info.

She hesitated, then pulled out her phone. Her hands shook as she scrolled through her contacts.

This time, she didn’t shake her head. She searched her phone and quickly found one of their numbers.

She handed me her phone, the number already pulled up. I jotted it down, feeling a surge of hope.

She told me the two were brothers—Aaron called them Mike and Andy Lane.

I remembered meeting them once at a barbecue. They were quiet, but Aaron trusted them. That was enough for me.

Both were experienced hikers and old friends of Aaron, so she’d only saved the older brother Mike’s number.

She apologized for not having Andy’s, but I told her it was enough. One lead was better than none.

I jotted down the number, planning to call the next day.

I saved it in my phone, labeling it "Mike Lane - Black Ridge." I made a mental note to do some digging online, too.

That night, Natalie and I finally had a long-overdue talk.

We sat in the living room, nursing cups of herbal tea. The conversation drifted from old college stories to memories of Aaron. We laughed, cried, and let the silence settle between us.

We reminisced about college and about Aaron.

She told me stories I’d never heard—little things, like how Aaron used to leave notes in her lunchbox, or how he once got lost in the library for hours. It felt good to remember him as he was, not as he’d become.

Later, I really wanted to ask her: if she could choose again, would she pick me or Aaron?

The question burned on my tongue, but I swallowed it. Some things are better left unsaid.

But in the end, I didn’t ask.

Instead, I squeezed her hand and told her I was glad we could talk. She smiled, and for a moment, it felt like old times.

Since neither of us had slept well the night before, we washed up and got ready for bed before midnight.

The house was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic. I checked the locks twice before heading to the guest room.

A little after midnight, Natalie quietly said goodnight to me at the door.

Her voice was soft, almost shy. I wished her sweet dreams, knowing neither of us would sleep easy.

I called back through the door that if anything happened, she should call me right away.

She promised she would, her voice muffled by the door. I listened to her footsteps fade down the hall.

She answered with a quiet “mm,” and I heard her walk back to her room and close the door.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take me. The house creaked and settled, every sound magnified in the darkness.

Having slept badly the night before, I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

My dreams were restless—shadows moving just out of sight, Aaron’s voice calling my name. I woke once, heart pounding, but forced myself to go back to sleep.

The next time I woke up, it was to someone shouting, “Help!”

The voice was raw, desperate. For a moment, I thought I was still dreaming.

I opened my eyes groggily, my head pounding, not sure if I’d dreamed it.

The room was dark, the air thick with fear. I sat up, trying to shake the sleep from my brain.

I heard noises from the master bedroom, like a woman moaning.

It sounded muffled, like someone was trying to scream with their mouth covered.

“Natalie?” I called.

My voice was shaky, barely more than a whisper. No answer.

No response.

I tried again, louder this time. Still nothing.

“Natalie?”

Panic started to rise in my chest. I threw off the covers and stumbled toward her door.

I called louder, but still nothing.

I pressed my ear to the door, listening for any sign of life.

Should I check?

My heart hammered in my chest. I hesitated for half a second, then pushed the door open.

I got up, walked to her door, knocked softly, and pressed my ear against it.

I thought I heard heavy breathing—a man’s breathing!

The sound was low, guttural. I froze, every instinct screaming at me to run.

“Natalie?”

I forced myself to act, adrenaline kicking in. I threw open the door and charged inside.

The room was pitch black. I fumbled for my phone, turning on the flashlight.

In the darkness, I saw Natalie lying strangely on the bed.

Her body was twisted, limbs sprawled at unnatural angles. My blood ran cold.

The light fell on her neck—a knife jutting out, blood pooling on the sheets. The metallic smell hit me like a punch.

My hands shook as I stumbled to her side. I checked for a pulse, for any sign of life.

There was nothing. Her skin was already cold.

She was dead.

The realization hit me like a freight train. I staggered back, gasping for air.

Her beautiful eyes stared blankly, as if unwilling to rest in peace.

They were wide open, fixed on something I couldn’t see. I reached out, wanting to close them, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I tried to close her eyes, but suddenly realized she was staring toward the door!

A chill crawled up my spine. I turned, half-expecting to see someone standing there.

At that moment, I heard footsteps behind me.

The sound was heavy, deliberate. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Just as I turned, something slammed into the back of my head.

Pain exploded in my skull. My vision blurred, and I dropped to my knees.

My phone flew from my hand as I fell.

The flashlight spun across the floor, casting wild shadows on the walls.

Before I lost consciousness, the phone’s flashlight caught the killer’s face.

A face with no expression—almost hollow.

It was Aaron. Or something wearing Aaron’s face. Empty, lifeless, wrong.

Aaron’s face.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me.

When I came to, it was already morning.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting stripes on the floor. My head throbbed, and my mouth tasted like copper.

When I opened my eyes, everything was blurry at first, then slowly came into focus.

I blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos around me.

I saw the messy bed, the bloodstains on the bed and floor.

It wasn’t a dream. Natalie was gone, and I was alone.

The silence was deafening. I forced myself to sit up, every muscle protesting.

But where was Natalie’s body?

I scanned the room, searching for any sign of her. Nothing but blood and broken glass.

My mind was a mess, so I forced myself to try and piece things together.

I replayed the events in my head, searching for clues. Everything felt hazy, like I was moving through molasses.

Aaron was still alive, but Natalie was dead.

That much was clear. But nothing else made sense.

There was no doubt—she must have been killed by Aaron.

Unless I was losing my mind. Unless the man I saw wasn’t really Aaron at all.

But why would Aaron kill Natalie? Was it because of me?

The thought made my stomach twist. Was this revenge? Jealousy? Or something darker?

Then why am I still alive?

If he wanted me dead, he’d had the perfect chance. So why spare me?

Besides, Aaron was never that impulsive.

He was hotheaded, sure, but not violent. Not like this.

He wouldn’t just kill Natalie because he saw me at their place, right?

It didn’t add up. None of it did.

Or maybe… that wasn’t Aaron at all?

The face I saw was familiar, but the eyes were empty. Like a mask, not a person.

I looked around and noticed that a big suitcase that used to be there was gone.

The closet door was ajar, clothes spilling out. The suitcase was nowhere to be seen.

Thinking of those crime stories where bodies are stuffed in suitcases, I guessed Aaron probably put Natalie’s body in the suitcase and took it with him.

The image made me sick, but it was the only explanation that fit.

What was he trying to do?

Was he trying to hide the evidence? Or was there something else—some plan I couldn’t see?

If I called the police now and said a man who died half a year ago came back and killed his wife, would they believe me?

I pictured the look on the detective’s face, the way they’d ask about my relationship with Natalie. It would sound insane.

And why was I at Natalie’s place?

I could already hear the questions: What were you doing there? Why didn’t you call sooner? Was there something going on between you?

What would people think about the three of us?

The gossip would be brutal. I could see the headlines already.

No matter what, I was their best friend.

But best friends don’t let things like this happen. The guilt gnawed at me.

After a lot of thought, I decided that no matter what happened—whether Aaron was alive or not, or why he killed Natalie—I had to figure it out myself.

I couldn’t trust anyone else to get it right. Not when the stakes were this high.

First step: find out where Aaron went.

I forced myself to stand, ignoring the pain in my head. I needed answers, and I needed them fast.

With a suitcase that big, he couldn’t just be dragging it around everywhere.

He’d need a car. The SUV was the obvious choice.

I hurried to the underground garage, and sure enough, the SUV was gone.

The empty parking spot felt like a punch in the gut. I racked my brain for any way to track them.

But I remembered Aaron once said that because of his outdoor adventures, he’d linked the SUV’s GPS to Natalie’s phone in case of emergencies.

He’d shown me the app once, proud of his own paranoia. Now, it might be the only lead I had.

That meant I could use her phone to track them down.

I sprinted back upstairs, praying the phone was still there.

So, what was Natalie’s phone password?

I tried the obvious—her birthday, their anniversary. No luck. Then I remembered Aaron’s old trick.

I remembered that in college, all of Aaron’s passwords were Natalie’s birthday.

He was hopelessly romantic, even in the digital age.

Could Natalie’s unlock code be Aaron’s birthday?

It was worth a shot. My hands shook as I typed in the numbers.

I went back upstairs, called Natalie’s number, and found her phone was still there.

It buzzed on the nightstand, screen cracked but still working.

I tried Aaron’s birthday—and it actually unlocked!

Relief flooded through me. I was in.

But the moment the phone unlocked, I felt a little disappointed.

It felt wrong, like I was violating her privacy. But I pushed the guilt aside. I had to know.

I opened the GPS app right away.

The map loaded slowly, every second stretching out. Finally, a blue dot appeared, moving steadily south.

The map showed the SUV heading south on Interstate 15.

That made no sense. Why south? Where was he going?

I stared at the screen, stunned.

I zoomed out, tracing the route. The destination chilled me to the bone.

Because at the end of I-15 is Salt Lake City.

A city full of memories, and secrets I wasn’t ready to face.

Aaron was taking Natalie’s body to Montana?

Or was he headed somewhere else—somewhere only he knew?

Was he going back to Black Ridge?

The thought made my skin crawl. Was this all part of some twisted plan?

I suddenly remembered Mike’s number that Natalie had given me the night before, so I tried calling, but got no answer.

Voicemail. I tried again, and again. Nothing. My anxiety spiked.

I tried several more times—still nothing. Then I remembered Natalie said they had YouTube accounts, so I looked them up.

I pulled up their channel on my phone, scrolling through old videos. The comments were full of questions, rumors, wild speculation.

I found that Mike and Andy Lane’s last video update was two weeks ago, location tagged as Glenwood Springs, Colorado.

That was a long way from Montana. But the timestamps didn’t add up.

But the account’s IP address was in Montana.

I dug a little deeper, using a tracking tool Aaron had taught me. The last login was from somewhere near Black Ridge.

I remembered Natalie said the brothers were also from our city.

So why were they all converging on the same place? Coincidence? Or something more?

So, they’d recently gone to Montana too?

It felt like the pieces were falling into place, but the picture was still a blur.

Too many coincidences—all of it seemed to lead back to the beginning.

The Black Ridge Mountains. Whatever happened there, it wasn’t over.

Aaron’s trip to Black Ridge wasn’t as simple as it looked.

I needed more information. Something concrete, something I could hold onto.

If only Aaron’s phone was still here!

But maybe his computer was. He always kept backups of everything, just in case.

But I suddenly remembered—though his phone was gone, his computer was still in the guest room.

I sprinted down the hall, heart pounding. The laptop sat on the desk, screen dark but humming quietly.

Maybe I could find some clues on his computer?

I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and opened the lid.

The login screen popped up, but there was no password. Typical Aaron—paranoid about the outdoors, careless at home.

I clicked through his folders, searching for anything that might help.

After it booted up, I searched for files related to “Black Ridge” and found quite a few.

There were maps, emails, scanned receipts, and dozens of photos. He’d been planning this trip for months.

I looked through them one by one—most were Aaron’s research from before the trip.

Notes on geology, rumors about lost gold, even a few cryptic messages from someone named “M.”

Until I came across a picture.

It was buried deep in a folder labeled “DO NOT OPEN.” The file name was just a string of numbers. I clicked it, and the image filled the screen.