Whispers in the Dark (26 page)

I tucked the pepper spray in my pocket and met her embrace. “Something like that.”

She insisted on sending Robert into the RV for fresh cups of coffee and a plate of cookies. I sat and gave them a quick version of the night’s activities.

Lily shook her head over Sean. “Nice-looking young man like that. I guess you never can tell. He seemed so friendly when he stopped by to visit the other day, but I guess he had ulterior motives.”

“Yeah, he had a lot of them.”

She eyed me closely. “You disappointed?”

I felt myself blushing. “Actually... I seem to be dating Danesh now.”

She beamed. “Well! You couldn’t do better than that.”

“Do you know him well?” I asked.

“Sure, he stops by two, three times a week at least. Has lunch with us, makes sure everything is all right.”

Robert nodded. “Good fellow. Helped me with the septic system.”

I deduced that this had something to do with the RV. It was nice to know Danesh had mechanical skills, along with everything else he offered. But I decided to change the subject before it got more personal. “How are Amanda and the kids?”

“Things are progressing,” Lily said. “We got them into a shelter and the boys are enjoying the other kids. I’ll keep an eye on her, but she has support in town now, and I missed Robert.”

She leaned toward him, and I had a feeling that his hand, out of sight under the table, had reached for her leg. The tender look they exchanged showed how much they cared for each other, and I had already seen how they worked as a team. I had a sudden vision of Danesh and myself, in our sixties, traveling the country by RV and occasionally meddling helpfully in other people’s lives.

I smiled, finished my cookie, and rose. “I’m going to go pack up my things. I’m staying in town for a few days.” I decided not to mention exactly where I was staying, but Lily gave me a knowing look. I added, “I’ll still be out here working most days, so I’ll see you.”

“You come by for lunch any time,” Lily said. “You and your young man.”

I walked away chuckling.

I strolled through the woods, taking my time. I saw a few cars and tents, but no people. Of course, the police were turning away everyone who didn’t have legitimate business. Those who’d camped overnight must be taking advantage of the beautiful morning to get out and see the site. Or else, people being what they were, they were watching the police search.

I wondered how long Danesh would need. I wasn’t even going to pretend that I would get work done that day. Besides the obvious advantage to staying out of the canyon until they found Sean, my muscles seemed to stiffen up every time I sat for a few minutes. This was a day to take things easy—and I was getting hungry again. I probably still had calories to make up from the night before.

I stopped by my picnic table and surveyed the campsite. Footprints crisscrossed the ground. At least two and maybe three different people had been there, pausing at the car and the tent. I put a hand to my chest and rubbed just above my breast, where my heart seemed too close to the surface. “Just the police search,” I muttered. I tried not to picture strange men peering into my tent and car. At least I hadn’t been there to be startled and frightened. I wondered how other campers had reacted to the disturbance last night.

I definitely needed to get away for a day or two. I might as well pack up everything, load the car, and take it into town. In the future, I could ride in with Danesh, or maybe borrow the truck.

The tent still had a few damp spots from the rain but seemed to be drying quickly. I retrieved my food from the critter-proof metal box the site provided and packed it into the box in my trunk, except for an apple, which I ate.

I finished my snack and stood looking at the tent while the breeze rustled in the trees and a bird chirped somewhere nearby. I was dawdling. The damp spots on the rain fly had almost faded. By the time I got my sleeping bag into the stuff sack, the foam pad rolled up, and everything retrieved from the side pockets, the tent would be dry. Yet I couldn’t quite bring myself to touch it.

I knew the site had been searched, I knew Sean was most likely miles away, but somehow “what if?” played in my brain. I pictured unzipping the tent and seeing Sean glaring out at me.

I shook my head. I couldn’t go running back to Danesh and ask him to unzip my tent for me. He had called me a hero not two hours before. Heroes didn’t run and hide because of foolish fears, and sensible, independent, grown-up women didn’t make the men do all the dirty work.

They didn’t take unnecessary chances, either. But I could easily find out whether anyone was inside the tent. I crouched at the corner and yanked out the thin metal stake holding the tent into the ground. I moved to the one along the side and then the one at the back corner. I remembered how hard I’d had to pound to get those six-inch pieces of metal, no thicker than a coat hanger, into the dry ground. They slid out easily.

I grabbed the side of the tent and stood, lifting the tent with me. I heard and felt my sleeping bag and pad slide to the other side. No one could be inside, or a heavy body would have held down the tent.

I dropped the tent, moved to the front, and unzipped the zipper. I knelt with my knees inside the tent but my feet still out, so I wouldn’t track in mud. I needed to put away the tent stakes first, before I lost track of them. I dragged my sleeping bag and pad back to the middle of the tent and reached for the built-in storage bag hanging from the side of the tent, where I’d stashed the nylon stuff sacks that held the tent parts. I had to lean on my right elbow and stretch to reach. My fingers caught the edge of the hanging bag, and I fished around inside, plucking at the stuff sacks.

A shadow passed over the tent, breaking up the light that poured through the blue nylon. I sensed motion behind me.

I dropped the stuff sacks and shifted my weight back on my knees. Before I could turn, something slammed against my back. I sprawled on my stomach, my face buried in my sleeping bag. A heavy weight pressed down on me.

I recognized Sean’s voice even though it sounded hoarse and raw. “It’s about time.”

Chapter 31

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Pressure weighed me down as my heart thundered, and my mouth gasped futilely against the suffocating fabric. My mind swirled, edging toward unconsciousness.

The pressure eased. I raised my head enough to drag in a breath.

Before I could do more, he was rolling me over. The world wobbled crazily and then settled down into one sight, one feeling: Sean staring down at me from inches away, his body heavy on top of mine.

“Do you know what this night has been like?” he muttered.

His words barely penetrated. His body, all too real and solid, pinned me down.

“That damn river nearly killed me. Then I had to drag myself back up here—crawling up that slope! And then I find the police everywhere. I barely got across the path without them seeing me. I’ve been hiding in the woods for hours.”

His eyes jerked around, seeing not me but his memories. Mud streaked his face, and a lump on his forehead had trickled blood.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, as if that would make him go away. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. I prayed to wake up, for the nightmare to go away.

“You got me into this,” Sean hissed. “So you can help get me out. You’re going to drive me out of here. They’ll let you past. And if you try anything....” He jerked his body so it slammed harder against mine, shoving the last of the air out of my lungs and sending pain shooting through my ribs.

I whimpered like a wounded animal. Sean eased back enough so I could breathe again, but the cry echoed in my mind. I seemed to observe it from far away. Had I really made that sound? Was that wounded animal me?

The thought grounded me. My mind wanted to slip away, to go to some other, safer place, until this was all over. But I couldn’t let it.

I pulled air into my lungs and noticed how my tight throat burned. Sean was still talking, but I ignored his words and focused on my body’s sensations. As much as I might hate the feel of Sean’s weight pressing down on me, it was real, it was now. I had to stay with the moment or risk being even more helpless. If I let my mind slip away, I didn’t know when I might get it back.

But I couldn’t shift Sean’s weight. I couldn’t push him away. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t even scream, because I didn’t have enough air in my lungs. He must be hurt, but he still held me helpless.

I had to fight the panic. I grabbed onto one of the exercises my counselor had given me to fight disassociation. With my eyes still closed, I focused on my hand, just my hand. That was less overwhelming than acknowledging all the pain and fear coursing through my body.

My left hand was out to the side, with Sean’s arm leaning hard against my forearm. My left hand was going numb. Numb wasn’t good. Numb was dangerous.

I shook away the thought. Focus! Find one thing and hold onto it.

My right arm was stretched above my head. I felt softness around my hand. The fuzzy flannel lining of my sleeping bag. When Sean had flipped me over, my hand must have gotten buried in the bag.

But my hand hurt. I was making a fist, clenching so hard the muscles ached. I told myself to relax that hand. It took a moment, but finally the muscles twitched. Something shifted in my hand. The thin metal tent stakes, now warm against my palm.

Sean shifted his body off of me, and I opened my eyes to see what he was doing. He kept one shin crossed over my thighs, holding me down, and grabbed my left shoulder. “When I move my leg, you get up slowly,” he said. “You make a sound and I’ll hit you so hard you’ll never make a sound again. We’re going to your car, nice and easy, and then we’re getting out of here.”

I studied him quickly, needing to know exactly what I had to deal with. He held his other arm close to his stomach, with the fingers loosely curled. He must have hurt his arm or wrist.

He hadn’t said anything about the gun. If he had it, surely he’d be pointing it at me. He must have lost it when he fell.

He’d already shown that he didn’t need the gun to subdue me. But if I could get away, he might not be able to catch me. Not if he was hurt badly enough, and he’d talked about crawling up the slope, not running. He didn’t have a weapon, besides his body.

And I did.

I flexed my hand and felt the thin metal spikes. Sean glared down at me, maybe trying to make sure I was properly frightened. I stared at him with wide eyes, trying not to let my gaze flicker while my mind raced. Where to hit him? When? He was blocking my exit now, but once I pulled my hand out from the sleeping bag, he might see the stakes. I’d lose the surprise.

Sean leaned out the entrance to look around, his hand still gripping my shoulder hard enough to grind the bones together and his leg still pinning mine. He pulled on my shoulder and growled, “Get up.”

As I sat up, I slid my hand out from the sleeping bag and glanced down to make sure the stakes were pointing in the right direction. It wouldn’t do much good to stab him with the rounded loops at the tops. The pointed ends were sticking out from the pinky side of my hand, so I would need to swing my arm down at him.

Sean turned back toward me.

I swung my arm up and stabbed toward his cheek. He jerked back and raised his free hand to catch at my forearm. That slowed my blow and the metal stakes just scratched down his cheek, leaving a red line.

And yet Sean howled and fell back. I squirmed out from under his leg and crawled past him. As I glanced at him, I saw he was holding his wrist, not his face. The stakes had done little damage, but he’d blocked me with his injured wrist, and that had apparently hurt like hell.

I stumbled to my feet outside the tent. Between the adrenaline and the sore muscles, I staggered against the picnic table before I got myself under control. Then I found my footing and raced toward the visitors center, screaming for help.

Chapter 32

Could they hear me all the way over at the visitors center? Would Sean follow me or take off in the other direction?

With my mind racing over these questions, I forgot about my own injury. I got to the trees at the edge of my campsite and then my ankle gave out. I crashed to the ground, my cries for help cut off by a grunt. I rolled over and sat up, looking back at Sean. He was on his knees in the tent doorway. He grabbed the external tent frame and pulled himself up, but the poles slumped under his weight and he swayed, flailing his free arm for balance. He swore and pushed off toward me, limping badly.

Hysterical laughter bubbled in my chest. The lame chasing the lame.

But that didn’t mean I wanted him to catch me. I grabbed a small juniper beside me for balance as I scrambled to my feet. I knew I’d hurt my ankle worse if I kept running on it, but surely I could outpace Sean in his present state.

Movement caught my eye at the far side of the clearing—the Wests hurrying toward us.

Sean had almost reached me. He must have noticed my attention shift, because he glanced back at the Wests. He turned to me and said, “Just give me your car keys and I’ll go. You don’t want anyone else hurt.”