Run to Me
Authors: Diane Hester
About the BookIt’s been two years since Shyler O’Neil’s beloved son Jesse was killed – but his final moments are as vivid to her now as they were that dreadful day. Suffering from post-traumatic stress, and convinced she did not do enough to protect him, she retreats to an isolated cabin in the woods of northern Maine.
Meanwhile, Zack Ballinger – a ten-year-old boy who has never known a mother’s
love – finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s seen too much and is now running for his life.
Fleeing into the woods, Zack soon finds himself at Shyler’s cabin. He’ll take whatever help she can give – even though, for some reason, she keeps calling him Jesse . . .
With the pursuers hot on their heels, ‘mother’ and ‘son’ go on the run. Protecting Zack may well be Shyler’s one
chance at redemption.
Either that, or
she
is the child’s greatest threat . . .
Run to Me
is a suspenseful, impossible-to-put-down thriller with riveting twists and turns . . .
For Michael
‘Jesse, come down from there, you might fall.’
‘I’m throwing sticks in the water, Mommy. See how fast they float away.’
Shyler came up behind her son where he stood on the railing’s lowest bar. Sliding her arm around his waist, her cheek pressed to his, she peered over the side of the bridge.
‘The water’s moving really fast, isn’t it? Must be all that rain we had. Now come on, sweetheart,
we better get going. Your baseball training went late today; it’s starting to get dark.’
‘All the sticks went under the bridge.’ He held up the last one. ‘I want to see where this one comes out.’
‘All right, one more, then we have to leave. Daddy’ll be home soon.’
With a five-year-old’s flair he threw the stick, watched it hit the water, then jumped down to race to the other side.
‘Look both
ways before you cross.’ Though he quickly obeyed, though they’d not seen a car since the edge of town, she couldn’t help double-checking to be sure.
That’s when she saw the three men step out.
They emerged from the bushes at the end of the bridge as though they’d come up from the banks below. But with no poles or reels they couldn’t have been fishing.
She moved to where Jesse was scanning the
water.
‘There it is, Mom!’
‘I see it, honey.’ But in truth she was looking the other way, keeping watch from the corner of her eye.
The men had spread out across the road. Even before she could see their faces she knew the one in the middle was the leader, just from the way the others watched him, held back behind him as they started towards her.
Their sudden appearance could be totally innocent,
random chance.
Still, why had they spread out across the road?
Jesse climbed down and took her hand. ‘Timmy brought a rabbit to school today. A live one.’
‘Did he? I bet that was nice.’ She turned him to head back the way they’d come. Maybe they’d walk home the other way today, just to be –
Two more men had stepped out behind them.
‘It had real soft fur, and big floppy ears. Can I get a rabbit,
Mom?’
‘We’ll see.’ Pulling him close, she looked from one group to the other. Clearly together, clearly an ambush. A mugging? Here? In their quiet little corner of New Hampshire?
‘What is it, Mommy?’
She scanned the road in both directions. No cars, no people. The fields sweeping back to the woods either side held nothing but drying rows of corn. She knew there was a house just past the first
turn. But trees lining the banks of the creek would screen them from view, muffle any cries for help. The bridge they had crossed nearly every day since Jesse started school had never felt so lonely and remote.
The men closed in, encircling them. Younger than she’d thought. Late teens perhaps. Taut and wiry, ragged as strays.
The one with his hands jammed in his pockets twitched like a puppet
on invisible strings. Another had a snake tattoo on his neck, his eyes red-rimmed. The plaid flannel shirt on the gangly one made him a scarecrow, a jaunty beret an incongruous touch for the one incessantly scratching himself.
Stay calm. Don’t provoke them.
She faced the fifth, the gang’s leader. ‘What do you want?’
A scar tugged the side of his mouth like a fish hook. ‘Wallet,’ he said.
She fumbled in her bag, handed it over. The others pressed closer as Fish Hook looked through it.
‘You gotta be kidding. Five lousy bucks, that’s all you got?’
‘That’s all I brought with me.’
An unseen hand jerked Puppet’s strings. ‘Oh man, no way.’
‘That’s bullshit, she’s lying. She’s gotta have more.’
‘Here, take my bag if you don’t believe me.’ She held it out. The instant he snatched it,
Puppet yanked Jesse away from her legs.
‘No, please, let him go.’
Scarecrow and Beret cut between them as Puppet lifted the boy to the railing. ‘Soon as you give us what we came for.’
She strained to see past them; Jesse’s eyes were now huge and frightened. ‘It’s okay, baby, they’ll be gone in a minute.’
Scarecrow leered. ‘Yeah, baby, it’s okay. Mama won’t let her little boy fall.’
She couldn’t
pry her gaze from Puppet. Those twitching hands, that nervous dance . . . ‘Please, let him down. There’s rocks . . . the water . . . He can’t swim.’
They shoved her back.
Fish Hook was throwing things from her bag. ‘There’s nothing in here.’
Bargain. Say anything. ‘There’s an ATM in town. I’ve got lots of money in my account. You can have it all.’
‘Think we’re stupid?’ Puppet swung Jesse’s
legs over the edge.
‘There’s an iPod in my bag. A mobile, credit cards.’
‘Not enough.’
‘I have nothing else!’
A jab from behind. ‘Empty your pockets.’
‘Car!’ Snake said, before she could move.
‘Don’t see nothin’.’
‘I hear it, man.’
‘Let’s get outta here.’
Fish Hook threw the bag down, jerked his head. The others ran after him.
All but Puppet.
‘Hey, what am I supposed to . . .?’ His
look grew frantic – the car was getting closer.
Raising her hands, a calming gesture, inching forward. ‘Please, be careful. Don’t –’
He let go and ran.
She sprang to the rail, the moment imprinting itself like a scar. Silken hair sliding between her fingers.
The terrified scream she would never stop hearing.
Two years later
.
Zack felt their stares on his back as he moved about the kitchen. The two of them, just sitting there, expecting him to make it all right. What the hell did they think he could do? He was just a kid himself.
He jerked up the bread box lid and peered in – two mouldy crusts and a donut that had probably been there since the year he was born, the little brown things scattered
around it either chocolate sprinkles or petrified mouse turds. He slammed the lid and moved to the fridge. A six-pack of Bud, a jar of olives, a can of Cheese Wiz. Something black and fuzzy that might once have been a carrot lay in a puddle of slime at the bottom. Zack grabbed the Wiz and shut the door.
From the cupboard he’d pawed through earlier, he took down the half-eaten box of Ritz. He
fished the cleanest plate from the sink, tipped the remaining crackers onto it, squirted each with a dollop of Wiz and plunked the plate on the kitchen table.
Reece and Corey sat dead quiet staring down at it.
‘I thought you guys said you were hungry.’
‘We are.’ Reece shifted. ‘It’s just . . .’
‘Just what?’
Reece shoved a knuckle into his mouth. Zack pulled it out again. He couldn’t stand
it when the kid chewed himself. Corey rested his chin on the table, hiding his face beneath a mop of blond curls.
Be cheerful, reason with them, Zack told himself – that’s what you did with little kids. ‘Well, that’s all there is so you better eat it.’
Reece shook his head, inching his hand towards his mouth again.
‘You sure? They’re pretty good.’ Zack picked one up and popped it in his mouth.
‘Mmm, yum.’
Corey looked up. ‘But the crackers. They’re Frank’s.’
‘Yeah, so what? Frank’s not here, so you get first dibs. Now go on and eat.’
Neither boy moved.
‘I said eat!’ He thumped the table.
They jumped in unison, then hid their faces. Corey’s shoulders began to quake.
Zack clenched his jaw. The only thing worse than when they nagged him was when they cried. It twisted everything
up inside him, made him feel sad, scared and angry all at the same time.
Slowly, as always, his resistance ebbed. He sidled up to Corey and gave him a nudge. ‘Scooch over, Runt.’
The boy slid aside and Zack perched half his butt on the chair.
‘Now listen, you guys, I’m in charge and I say it’s all right for you to eat this, so that means it is.’
‘But what about Frank?’ Corey’s voice carried
the threat of more tears. He often played at being the baby, but this time Zack knew his fear was real.
‘You let me worry about Frank.’
They stared at the plate. Reece chewed the skin on the back of his hand. Corey bit down on his quivering lip.
Zack heaved a sigh. ‘Okay, what if . . .’ He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. ‘When Frank gets home you can tell him
I
ate all the crackers,
all right?’
The pair looked up as though he’d just offered to walk barefoot over broken glass for them. In a way, he supposed he had.
They each grabbed a cracker and started to eat, for the moment happy. Probably a good time to mention the other thing. ‘There’s something else I needed to tell you.’
