Trail of Death

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I set off on the trail. It was half past seven, the sun hadn't yet emerged from behind the mountains, and the air was sharp and cold. I zipped up my fleece sweatshirt and set off towards the first rises. The path, or rather the road that initially led through the Kościeliska Valley, was completely flat for the first few hundred meters.

I wondered if I could manage the designated route. Just because I'd accomplished this feat ten years ago didn't mean it would be the same this time. First, the ascent up the slopes of Adamica, over rocks, protruding tree roots, and slippery clay. Luckily, it hadn't rained for a while. Then, one by one, all the Wierchy peaks, and the descent to Kuźnice.

I thoughtfully adjusted my backpack and baseball cap. I conquered the first rises briskly. The landscape was still shrouded in a light mist, so I couldn't see the peaks. Soon I was among the trees.

Unfortunately, at some point, my bladder began to demand a visit, a visit to a secluded spot. I thought that after that, all that awaited me was the grassy slopes of the Wierchy Mountains, where there would be nothing but secluded spots. Finally, I left the trail and entered the forest. One wrong step would have been enough to damage and immobilize my leg.

I reached some small bushes. I crouched down, facing the trail. My mindless staring at one of the trees was interrupted by an incredible sight. At eye level, I saw shoes. I mean, feet in shoes. I mean, feet with feet in men's shoes. At first, I thought someone was standing there. Only after a moment did I realize that my feet were half a meter off the ground.

I straightened up and took in everything related to my legs. Terrified and dazed, I leaned against the nearest tree and closed my eyes. It was true that I hadn't slept much. I'd been walking along Krupówki Street until late. But my vision had never failed me before

. I slowly opened my eyes. It wasn't a hallucination. The legs belonged to a hanged man, or more precisely, a man of about thirty-five dressed in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a nylon jacket. He must have been a hiker who had intended to take the same route as me…

His face was unnaturally contorted. Terror was etched on it, his eyes wide, and a silent scream escaped his lips. A thick rope was wrapped around his neck. The sight was truly horrifying.

I thought whoever had done this might still be here. I didn't know when or where the thought of murder had come from. It was completely reflexive. Besides, I instinctively sensed something was wrong.

I took a deep breath and walked away a dozen meters. I leaned against a tree and sank to the ground. I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for all my senses to return to normal. Only then did I feel goosebumps all over my body and my heart race. A wave of heat washed over me.

The police received my report with some skepticism, but they promised to send someone. The young officer who arrived half an hour later didn't believe it until he saw it. Only then did he begin his energetic actions. His colleague appeared at the top, and he took me to the patrol car parked on the rocky road at the foot of the slope.

I explained exactly what I had seen, felt, and done.

"What made you think it was murder?" he asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the glove compartment of the car.

"Thank you, I don't smoke. At least not in the mountains," I smiled. "It was a hunch. Something's not right up there.

" "You're right. The hanged man had his hands tied behind his back. Besides, it looked like someone tied him to a tree, not hung from it," she said, inhaling smoke and staring out the windshield.

My senses had failed me, but my instincts hadn't. How could I have missed such obvious things?

What's his name?" Not the hanged man, of course, but a policeman who had just stopped staring at the path in front of the car and was now staring at me. He had black, gelled hair and a pleasant face. He was tall and well-built.

"Will I be needed for anything else?" I finally asked.

"No, not yet. Just... Please refrain from hiking today. I'll take you home."

Before I could protest, the car was already heading towards Kiry, and then Zakopane. A whole team of specialists had already arrived at the scene of the hypothetical crime, so... I have a cadet named Grzegorz Somebody! So, I guess they didn't need him anymore.

"Is that standard procedure?" I asked, amused.

"Well... Haven't you heard of the witness protection program?"

He had a sense of humor. I couldn't help but think I'd caught his eye. As I got out of the car, he gave me some thoughtful parting words.

"As a crown witness, you must be under police supervision. This evening, the officer will check if everything is alright," and then drove off.

I must admit, he has a unique way of flirting.

After some instant noodles and coffee, I flipped through the guidebook. I chose a route through the Strążyńska Valley, the Grzybowiec Pass, and the Mała Łąki Valley. I should be back by a late dinner.

When I was getting ready to leave that evening after showering, someone knocked on my door. It couldn't have been the landlady or my neighbors. They hadn't returned from the mountains yet. I opened the door.

"Good evening. Is the crown witness feeling alright?"

To say I was surprised is an understatement. My surprise, if possible, would have materialized and appeared next to me. I didn't expect to ever see... Grzesiek again. Without his work clothes, he looked even better in jeans and a T-shirt.

Once I'd shaken off all the irritating feelings, I let him invite me to a bar. We walked down Krupówki Street, chatting about trivial matters. Then we turned onto a side street and after a few dozen meters, we entered a small wooden pub.

Grzesiek (we exchanged first names along the way) ordered the house specialty – a kebab, along with a cold beer. He knew what I wanted to hear. The morning's events haunted me.

"Leszek T., thirty-three years old, healthy, still alive this morning at dawn. Strangled, then hanged from a tree."

During my second beer, I learned that the deceased had arrived alone, just as he had for the past seven years. He always rented the same room and always at the same time. Contacting his family proved somewhat problematic, as it was the peak of the holiday season, and everyone had dispersed.

No traces were found on the body or in the surrounding area. What happened there was carefully planned. Moreover, analysis of the clothing and the ground revealed that the man had voluntarily appeared where the murdered man had been standing. We also managed to locate the crime scene precisely – about ten meters from the tree from which he had been hanged.

Grzesiek walked me to my room and announced that he would take me to dinner the next day as part of his protection.

Watching TV, I pondered everything that had happened to me. This trip was starting to be full of unexpected events. I was involved in a murder case, and a handsome policeman was revealing secrets to me. What else awaited me?

That night, I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamed that I was walking at night on some unfamiliar trail. On one side was a precipice, and on the other, a cherry tree, full of hanged men… I woke up drenched in sweat, with my heart beating incredibly fast.

In the morning, I went to the mountains. For now, I didn't want to return to Czerwone Wierchy. I had no intention of provoking fate.

The weather was beautiful. I climbed one hill after another and took dozens of photos. Upon returning, standing in front of the mirror, I was pleased to see that I was already quite tanned. I took a shower and covered my skin with a thick layer of almond balm.

I spent the late afternoon with Grzesiek. Convincing him to reveal a few official secrets brought positive results. While eating delicious, multi-flavored ice cream from one of the many confectionaries on Krupówki Street, I listened to accounts of the day's events.

On the trail leading through Czerwone Wierchy, another man was murdered. Thirty-three-year-old Jacek G. died from a blow to the head with a rock. The body was thrown over a cliff.

The deceased, like the previous one, had his hands tied behind his back. The execution was carried out. The thought of it sent shivers down my spine.

A young tourist witnessed the incident, or at least part of it. She was knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. She's currently in hospital under observation, in severe shock. Doctors are forbidding any police visits. They tried to talk to her, but she claims she doesn't remember anything.

This man also came every year alone, always at the same time. Not much was known about him. He divorced his wife four years ago, and apparently not in a pleasant atmosphere, because she now made no secret of her satisfaction with his death. This could even be felt over the phone.

The family of Leszek T., who died yesterday, whom the police managed to contact, didn't add anything new to the case.

No one knew anything!

"Do you think he's a serial killer?" I asked. "He selects his victims according to a specific pattern and kills them in a similar manner. Besides, everything is limited to the trail from Kiry to... well, let's say Kuźnice.

" "I'd rather not even think about it. It's high season, and there's a psychopath on the trails." I only got away from the station for a few hours to meet you. We're in a hurry. Don't go to the mountains just yet, okay?

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not exactly a victim. I'm a woman, and I'm a bit younger than them," I said, laughing.

Grzesiek, however, wasn't in the mood for jokes. Neither was I, really. I'd wanted to tackle that trail this morning. If I'd decided to, I could have been in the hospital right now, in that girl's shoes.

A psychopath, a madman, a serial killer… Here, in Zakopane? Understanding it was beyond me.

Unfortunately, I had to spend the evening alone. Grzesiek returned to the station. He promised to call.

Somehow, I found myself at the center of a terrifying scandal. A few strange coincidences had turned my vacation into a hunt for a murderer. What's more, an unknown policeman appeared at my side out of nowhere. Until then, I'd only seen such things in movies.

This whole case is one big mystery. No one can provide any information. The only thing known is that men in their thirties arrive alone in Zakopane and are murdered one by one.

Serial killers usually leave a signature. In this case, are their hands tied, or perhaps a mountain trail?

And the victims? Are they random? They are connected by gender, age, lack of traveling companions, and likely a fondness for the mountains. Does the killer use this key? If he's a psychopath and kills for pleasure, then perhaps so, but what if these are pre-planned victims and murders?

Something must connect these men. If nothing has been discovered so far, it means it's connected to their past. They must have something in common, something important enough to make them the target of one person. Someone who only carries out executions.

If it weren't for Grzesiek, I wouldn't have considered the actions of some psychopath. What possessed me to get into such a relationship!?

I fell asleep having made certain resolutions, and I woke up intending to carry them out.

After breakfast, I went to the hospital. The murderer's would-be victim was still there. I had to lie a bit to meet her.

She was a young woman, in her twenties, with light hair falling to her shoulders, her face pale, and her hands trembling constantly. When I told her why I'd come, a look of terror crossed her face. However, I managed to convince her after I told her about finding the hanged man.

"I saw someone throwing a man's body off a cliff..." she began, her voice breaking. "I couldn't run. Fear paralyzed me." She squeezed her eyes shut, then shook herself as if to banish the memories. "He... He started walking towards me, and then... I don't remember anything else; I woke up in the hospital."

"What did he look like? Did you notice anything distinctive?

" "No... I don't think so. I only remember that he was wearing a red, nylon jacket. Yes... a red stain coming towards me..."

I left the hospital. I didn't know if what I'd heard was of any value, but I decided to tell Grzesiek. Something else intrigued me. What happened up there in the mountains that made that girl still terrified to death at the memory of it?

"Why did you come up with the trail from Kiry to Kuźnice, huh?" I heard my personal policeman say in greeting. "This morning, near the shelter on Hala Kondratowa, a dog found a man shot dead with his hands tied. Another execution. But we finally know something. Tomorrow we'll catch the bastard."

It turned out I was right. All three men were connected by an event from the past. Seven years ago, the seven of them were here. They were friends from college who ran a business together. While they were on Czerwone Wierchy, a storm began. It was already evening, so it was almost completely dark. Two of them didn't return. It was ruled an accident. They had fallen down a slope. Only one body was found, but everyone was certain the other man was also dead. Perhaps the body was buried under rocks.

Since then, the five friends, who closed their business after the tragedy and scattered across Poland, have been coming to Zakopane every year on the anniversary of those events."

The police learned this story from the wife of the third murdered man. They married six years ago, but her husband told her everything. After a few years, she began to get annoyed by these solitary trips. This year, she finally decided to come here and check on her husband. He, of course, knew nothing.

"We found the other two men. One of them went away on business and we can't contact him, and the other is in Zakopane. We've already spoken to him. We'll follow him and catch the bastard tomorrow at dawn. Yesterday you came up with Kuźnice, so maybe today you can tell me which location the murderer will choose tomorrow?

" "Kondracka Pass," I said after a moment of thought. "He'll be able to fake a broken neck there without any problem."

Grzesiek looked at me wide-eyed, as if I were some kind of psychic. I laughed.

"Detective, so you think the murderer is one of the five men, and probably the one who went on the business trip?" Tell me again, why did they close their company?

"I know, just what that woman said. The business reminded them of the tragedy.

"Don't you think that's a bit far-fetched? These days, you don't give up money for sentimental reasons," I thought for a moment. "What about those other bodies? Maybe they were never there?

" "We checked it out; no one has heard of this guy for seven years. He couldn't have simply disappeared for that long.

This case can't be as simple as Grzesiek, or more precisely, his superiors, seem to think. He's just an errand boy there.

It all started seven years ago. Why would a man who was still alive then take revenge after all this time and kill his comrades?! Where's the sense? Where's the logic?

What happened years ago must be the motive for the crime. This is revenge. But for what?

Inspired by my conclusions, Grzesiek disappeared. I had to spend another evening alone.

At four in the morning, I was woken by my bodyguard. He said if I wanted to be there when they arrested me, I could go with him. Everything in me wanted to stay in bed, but a few brain cells were showing signs of thinking, and it was only thanks to them that I found myself at the observation post an hour later. It was almost masochistic.

Finally, we saw two men heading our way. I learned that one of them was Miłosz W., the one who had supposedly been away on business. If he was really there, then I was wrong. My assumptions were hopeless. I decided to see how things would unfold.

Suddenly, I noticed a man in a red nylon jacket walking from the Kondracka Pass. I'd forgotten to tell Grzesiek what I'd heard at the hospital. Fortunately, he was close by now. Without unnecessary preamble or details, I informed him that the murderer had just arrived. Now he had to worry about what to do with this information.

Grzesiek approached Inspector Malski unnoticed, and at that moment, the men met. They began talking quite loudly, then one of them pulled out a gun, and it wasn't the man in the red jacket.

* * *

Artur S. was arrested. He confessed to everything. Seven years ago, he had miraculously escaped death. His friends, or at least people he had considered friends until then, murdered Marcel G. in cold blood and then disposed of the body by throwing it down a slope. Artur didn't know what was happening, so he guessed he was next. He started running, but it was dark and raining. He tripped over a rock and fell. When he regained consciousness, he remembered nothing.

All those years he'd spent time in psychiatric hospitals and homeless shelters. He was a man without an identity. When he began to remember his past, he wanted only one thing: revenge.

Finally, he managed to gather enough information to avenge everything he'd endured.

He wanted a little more satisfaction from the latest murder, so he intimidated Krzysztof D. and arranged a meeting with him at the Przełęcz Pass. Unexpectedly, however, he appeared accompanied by Miłosz W., who refused to be led by the nose and decided to do what he hadn't managed seven years ago. Fortunately, the police reacted in time.

"Their company was used for money laundering. They were doing illegal business. Only Marcel G. and Artur S. knew nothing about it. Apparently, Marcel had begun to suspect something, and an accident was staged during their trip. They were probably planning to get rid of Artur as well," Grzesiek finished his story and stretched.

I thought with satisfaction that I was right after all, and with a smile on my face, I hugged him to my personal policeman.