Chapter Fifteen An hour before sunset, Duncan decided to paddle over to the island and pack a few things he would need if he was going to stay at Caitlin's. Puttering around the cabin while she waited for him to return, Caitlin stopped in mid-motion when she remembered seeing the edge of a book sticking out from behind the bookcase in her father's bedroom when she was trying to pull Tanya's ball loose earlier. Filled with curiosity, she went back to the room and crawled underneath the drafting table and started to tug at the book with her fingertips. After several minutes of see-sawing it up and down and wiggling it back and forth it came free with a jerk, making her bang her head soundly on the underside of the table. "Ouch! Dammit, that hurt," she muttered as she rubbed the abused spot on the back on her head. Covered by a coat of dust, it appeared the book had been stuck behind the bookcase for sometime. Deciding to take it to the kitchen for a closer look, she laid the book on the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. Using the book as a tray, she carried it over to the kitchen the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. Sliding the cup onto the table, she held the book lightly between her fingers and blew softly over it's surface scattering the layer of dust. Still not satisfied, she grabbed the dish towel hanging on the oven door and carefully ran the soft terry cloth over the book's cover to remove the remaining dusty film. After she was finished, she realized the symbol on the cover was a larger version of the tattoo her father had had on the inside of his left wrist. As a child she was fascinated by the design and asked him about it. Though he seemed slightly annoyed with her at the time for asking, he explained it was the symbol of a fraternity he had belonged to in college. The figure inside the double circle of the design had always reminded her of a ram's head. Thinking the book was probably a memento from his college days, she quickly fanned through the pages and caught glimpses of dates and times with brief descriptions written in her father's sprawling handwriting. Laying the book back down, while taking a sip of coffee, she turned to the first page and almost choked, when she saw symbol again above the words: Watcher: Jon Taylor, and on the ruled line below it. Subject: Duncan MacLeod (1992-1994). Her hands began to tremble so badly, coffee began to slosh over the rim of the cup, splashing down on the yellowed pages of the journal. Grasping the cup with both hands, it took all her will power to set it back down without spilling more coffee. "I don't understand. This doesn't make any sense." She muttered, completely shaken. Fanning through the pages again, she discovered an envelop of snapshots tucked inside a pocket on the inside of the back cover. Opening the envelop, she removed the pictures one by one, reading the short descriptions on the back. One of the pictures was of Duncan standing in the middle of a river, bare chested, his arms spread wide, holding some kind of an ax, his face frozen in a silent scream, while a body floated near by. The blonde haired woman she had seen in the photograph at his cabin, stood watching from the shore. On the back were the words: MACLEOD KILLED CALEB COLE AS TESSA WATCHED. Others were of Duncan coming and going from the island. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the blonde or a youngman with reddish blonde hair. The last one was of Duncan fighting with a long-haired man dressed in a trench coat on a bridge over a dam. Looking closer she recognized the bridge as the one over the dam where the lake emptied into the gorge. The same gorge she crossed to get to her father's cabin. Turning the picture over her father had written: MICHAEL CHRISTIAN CAUGHT MACLEOD COMING BACK FROM THE ISLAND UNARMED. MACLEOD KILLED HIM. Shaking her head in denial she moaned. "Noooo, I don't believe it. This is just too sick. It can't be true. Not Duncan. Why?" Rocking back and forth she wrapped her arms around her stomach to try and ease the physical pain and mental anguish that swept through her. She felt as if she were going insane. The pictures, the descriptions, flashed through her brain rapid fire, over and over again. "This is too much. I can't handle this." Glancing at the clock, she began to panic. "Oh God, oh God, he'll be back any minute, I've got to get out of here." Struggling to stand, barely able to breathe, she stumbled backwards knocking over the chair as she tried to free herself from the nightmare spread out before her. Sweeping her arm across the table, she sent the vile pictures and journal whirling through the air to lay scattered on the floor. Turning sharply, almost falling, she ran to her bedroom. Tearing open the closet door, she grabbed her suitcase and threw it open on the bed. Ripping the clothes from their hangers, she tossed them inside, and then ran to the dresser and emptied the drawers as well. The bathroom was also stripped of her personal belongings and hurriedly stuffed into the already overflowing suitcase. Ignoring the clothing that hung over the sides, she slammed the lid closed and walked swiftly to the kitchen counter and snatched up her backpack. Calling to Tanya as she ran, she started down the steep stairway when her foot became entangled in a piece of the dangling clothing from the suitcase sending her flying forward. Twisting and turning, her momentum accelerating as she tumbled. She tried to save herself by frantically reaching out and making a grab for the railing, only to feel her nails crack and break off as she continued to fall. Landing at the bottom with a thud, the breath knocked from her body, she continued to slide before finally coming to an abrupt stop as her head hit a rock by the walkway and she was knocked unconscious.