by PJ Sharon
Abby bit her lip. "Why don't you stay here for tonight? It's getting late and don't you think you should give Justin a chance to explain? I mean, even if what you saw is what you think it is, at least then you'd know for certain."
Only Brinn could understand her friend's roundabout logic, but had to admit that she made sense. It was late in the afternoon and the days were getting shorter, the nights cooler. She could smell a hard rain coming on. Maybe it would be best if she waited until morning to start up into the mountains. The sound of a truck out front caught her attention.
"I thought your parents were out of town this weekend." Brinn commented as Abby headed to the front window to peek out.
"They are. There’s a man coming up the walk." Abby shrieked. "Oh my God, Brinn, it's him!"
“Him, who?” Brinn peered over her friend's shoulder, her heart instantly seizing.
"I'll call the police." Abby raced to the kitchen, leaving Brinn staring, wide-eyed with horror, at the face of Roy Stockman. When he glimpsed her in the window his face lit up, a malicious smirk taking over. He disappeared around the corner of the house out of sight.
Detaching her feet from the floor where they'd frozen, Brinn ran to the door, latched the deadbolt, and darted into the kitchen. Abby was already locking the back door. The girls shared a panicked look. Abby broke the silent tension. "The phone went dead before I could tell the 911 operator what was happening. He must have cut the wires."
"Where's your cell phone?" Brinn whispered hoarsely, the two girls now huddled together in the windowless pantry.
"We have no cell phone reception until you get to the top of the hill at the end of the street. Brinn, what are we going to do?" Abby's face was pale with fright.
A pounding on the back door made both girls jump. Abby shrieked. "The police are on their way!" She yelled out, her voice a high-pitched squeak.
Brinn knew that the threat wouldn’t cause the man to retreat. She grabbed Abby by the shoulders. "It's me he wants. I need you to distract him—just until I can make it out to the barn. I'll take Callie across the meadow and up into the hills. I'm certain he'll try to follow me. Then you can take my truck up the street and call the police. My cell phone is in the glove box and my Dad's number is programmed in. Tell him what's happened and he'll send help."
"Brinn, you can't be serious. We should stay put and wait for help. I'm sure the 911 operator traced the call. The police will come; they have to." She added doubtfully as tears welled in her eyes.
"Trust me, Abby. It's better this way. I know the woods better than he does. Once I'm in the forest, he’ll never catch me. Now, draw his attention to the front door, and I'll slip out the back. Here, take this, just in case." Brinn reached for the wooden block filled with knives on the counter and handed her friend the nearest thing she could find to use as a weapon.
Abby's eyes widened, but she took the nine-inch chef’s knife and bobbed her head. "All right, Brinn. But you'd better hope this works." Abby shook as she crossed through the kitchen toward the living room, talking loudly as if Brinn were in front of her. "Don't do it Brinn! You'll never make it to your car in time. He'll catch you!"
Her words did the trick. The sound of retreating footsteps leading off the back porch gave Brinn the time she needed to slip out the back door and bolt for the barn. Sounds of Abby screaming behind her nearly made her stop until the screams turned to shouts urging her to run. From the barn, Brinn could see Stockman was already coming around the corner of the house.
She grabbed the bridle and fed the bit into Callie's mouth. Brinn was mounted bareback and tearing a path toward the field before the man was half-way to the barn in pursuit. She ducked low against the horse’s back when she saw the man raise an outstretched arm and fire two shots, both from too far away for accuracy.
One last look over her shoulder and she could see him disappear into the barn. She had a good head start and Callie was faster than Appollo, but Brinn didn't want to get too far ahead. She had to make sure he followed her. She had to give Abby time to get away and call for help. As she reached the edge of the wide-open meadow, she hoped and prayed that Abby was all right, and that help would not be far behind.
Kicking her mount hard in the ribs, Brinn pressed herself low against the mare’s neck, holding on to her mane for dear life as she galloped at top speed for the darkening forest ahead. Needles pricked up her spine as she felt his eyes on her back. She didn't need to see him. She knew he was there. She knew he’d found her. He was coming after her, just as he’d promised. But now, it was going to be on her terms, in the familiar arms of the forest she called home.
Chapter 34
Cloak of Darkness
The daylight dipped below the trees and a chilly breeze settled over the mountains. It was mid-September and hunters were already staking out their territories for the fall hunting season. Brinn knew them well, the men who camped up in the hills, tracking and stalking their prey, men who would take to the desolate high country where even hikers were few. Brinn had watched them for years, learning their ways while remaining invisible even to the keenest eye.
She could easily fade into the landscape, her ability to hide in the forest equal to any of her wild counterparts. She was silent and motionless as a deer, able to climb as well as any cat or bear, and faster than a rabbit. Oh, yes, and smarter than a trout. Brinn knew her battleground of choice, but she would have to lure Roy Stockman there, set a trap, and then find the strength to overtake the man if help did not come. Either way, one of them was not going to escape this time, Brinn determined with a shudder.
A light drizzle soaked her skin. She released Callie when the slope grew too steep for the horse, and slippery rocks lined the trail. Once on foot though, Brinn immediately found a quiet confidence in her ability to out-hike her pursuer. He looked like an old man, though he was probably no more than fifty. He was still wiry and strong, but his face was weary and worn. Those cigarettes will be the death of you yet, Old Man, Brinn sneered silently as she watched him struggle up the trail a few hundred feet below. Every step held danger on the mossy, overgrown mountainside.
She remained on the path for some time longer, making her tracks easy to follow. Once full night came on, she would disappear into the darkness like a ghost and he would have to wait until morning to continue his pursuit. By then, she thought with grim satisfaction, the forest would offer him no protection from the dangers that could befall a person hiking alone on such unfamiliar and rugged terrain.
Climbing higher into the mountains as darkness swept through the trees, Brinn felt the cool mist grow heavier. Good, let the rain come, she smiled smugly. The ground would be soaked in no time. There would be no fire or warmth for her guest tonight and what little moonlight there was would soon be overshadowed with cloud cover. The night would be black as tar and Roy Stockman would know what it was like to lie in the cold, wet blanket of Georgia’s Northwest High Country.
Brinn, however, was already settling into a well-sheltered overhang of rocks: dry, covered in pine boughs, and comforted by the sounds of a waterfall not far off and the soothing chirp of cicadas. Silence would be her warning if danger approached. But Brinn knew exactly where her enemy was and she was certain he was not enjoying her hospitality. She closed her eyes against the darkness but didn’t sleep. She kept her buck knife in hand, listening to her pulse throb in her ears, knowing her tormentor lay a few hundred yards away.
∞∞∞
Abby's farmhouse looked like a scene from The Fugitive. Police cruisers, search and rescue teams, and helicopters arrived, setting up search teams that would start out at first light. "We have to go now!" Justin barked at the stout, ruddy- faced man in charge.
"These mountains are dangerous at night, Son. My men will pick up the trail in the morning. I have dogs on the way. When they arrive, I'll send out one scout team on an overnight, and the helicopters will stay out as long as they can, but our best bet is to start fresh tomorrow."
Justin st
arted to protest again, but John Hathaway laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "There's no use arguing with him, Justin. He's got a head like a rock, but he knows his business. I'm as worried as you are, but you and I both know Brinn is in her element. If we can't track her at night, neither can Stockman, and if she can just stay far enough ahead of him until we can get to her..." He let his words fall away, his sense of grief and frustration mirroring Justin’s.
Justin retreated to a back bedroom where Abby sat, still crying and shaking, Cody's big arms wrapped around her shoulders.
"I can't just sit here waiting! I have to do something." Justin stalked around the room, rubbing the bruised knuckles he'd gotten from punching the door of his Beemer in frustration when the police had refused to let him go with the initial search party. His pride and joy finally had a dent, and he could care less.
Abby settled into choked sniffles and looked up into Cody’s eyes, a small smile making her blushing cheeks grow rounder. "Thank you, Cody. I'm all right now." She straightened her shoulders, swiped away tears, and looked back and forth between the two men. "Why don't you start your own search party? The horses are back in the barn and Callie will lead you close to where Brinn probably dismounted. I can show you on the map where her trail heads off into the hills. I showed the search and rescue team, but they seemed to think the trail was impassable and that she wouldn’t have gone that way."
Justin smiled at Abby. "We both know better than that, though, don't we?" He eyed Cody with a determined look of inquiry, "Are you up for some night maneuvers, Marine?"
"Oohrah, Brother. Lead the way." The burly Marine stood, causing the mattress to spring under the relief of his bulk, and turned to Abby, whose eyes were glued to Cody in fascination. "Will you be all right, Abigail?" He looked down at the sweet-faced blonde with an expression of affection that made Justin raise a brow and smirk. Abby's blush deepened. She apparently liked the idea that she had just graduated from her childish farm girl name to that of a grown woman assisting with a covert military operation.
"I'll be fine. But please, be careful. The trails on this side of the mountain are especially steep and slippery." They all looked out into the darkening night, noticing the rain falling in spatters against the window.
∞∞∞
A short time later, the two young men were packed and prepared. Wearing rain gear and carrying flashlights, they had trail maps, water bottles, climbing rope and first aid supplies tucked into small backpacks. Cody and Justin disappeared from the chaotic scene of the farmhouse and snuck toward the barn.
Justin had heard over the radio that the search teams had set up camp for the night, having lost the trail in the downpour. Justin determined that they were camped at least a quarter of a mile from where Abby had said Brinn's trail left the meadow. With attention drawn to the well-lit house, the two men silently saddled the horses and slipped out the back of the barn, making a wide berth around the property and disappearing into the night.
Depending on the horses to guide them, Cody and Justin made their way across the meadow and finally reached the place where Brinn had ascended the mountain. Cody shone his flashlight up into the thick woods. The trail rose sharply and a cascade of water rushed over the rocks. "It doesn't look like we're going up this way."
Justin dismounted, grabbed the heavy coil of rope from the saddle, and patted the horse’s rump. "The horses aren't, but we are."
Chapter 35
Hunter or Prey?
Brinn crept out of her cozy nest into the dim light of dawn. The forest went from small stirrings of insects at night to an almost instantaneous symphony of bustling life as the sunlight broke over the mountains. Birds chirped loudly and squirrels and chipmunks left their nests and burrows to begin their day of foraging. Mosquitoes buzzed in the moist warm air and Brinn stretched and yawned, listening to the familiar sounds of the forest while getting her bearings.
The shots fired into the night let her know that Stockman had not slept, but had fired in blind fear at the invisible sounds of imaginary beasts. The thick forest was blacker than the darkest night when clouds covered the stars and moon. Real or imagined, the sound of creatures stirring could fix a person’s mind on the idea that they were being stalked. Brinn had gotten over that a long time ago, but remembered the feeling like it was yesterday. A sense of satisfaction rose from within at the thought of Stockman’s terror.
Unfortunately, it had been her own fear that kept her from coming out of hiding into the darkness when she heard helicopters flying overhead. She couldn’t risk drawing Stockman’s attention. It had seemed likely that the rain and thick forest would have made it impossible for rescuers to see her at any rate. At least someone was looking for her. The thought gave her a burst of hope.
Brinn watched the man from between the shrubs. She had chosen this particular hiding place because it was obscured from view, surrounded by a wall of thick rhododendron on one side and a mass of thorny berry bushes on the other. A person could pass right by and not know there was a small cave in between that sheltered her from wind, rain and her unwelcomed pursuer. Although the waterfall nearby would provide her with fresh drinking water this morning, it also covered the sound of approaching feet. Her enemy would be heading her way soon enough. A shiver of apprehension rushed through her. It was time to move on.
After an easy climb to the top of the next ledge, she found a good vantage point. She could make out the figure of the man in the distance, already trudging up the steep incline, holding onto trees as he went and looking at the ground for signs of his prey. He swatted at the relentless bugs buzzing around his head, cursing with each bite and sting, his clothes soaked from the night before.
Brinn took a moment to find pleasure in his suffering before she continued on. She’d covered her scent by rubbing her skin with a handful of wax myrtle leaves and found those same buzzing critters to be only a minor nuisance.
Any trail she'd left behind the night before was long since washed away by the rain. She retraced her tracks to keep him following. If others were coming to find her, she wanted to make sure she could be found. A niggle of doubt crowded in on her. Who would come after her? Did Justin even care that she was gone? Dismissing the notion, she knew she had no time for doubt. She also knew that, for now, she was on her own.
She grabbed some blackberries and stuffed them into her mouth as she made her way back onto the deer trail that led up higher into the hills. She made it to the falls, drank her fill and relieved herself, enjoying the thought that it was now up to her when he slept, ate, or peed. As if reading his thoughts, she backtracked down another trail and let out a loud yelp that startled the man, who had his pants around his ankles, squatting behind a tree. He’d conveniently squatted in a patch of nettles. She couldn’t help but smile.
He glared up at Brinn, who was no more than fifty feet away, and then toppled over. He tripped and stumbled as he tried to stand and pull up his pants. Brinn laughed out loud, baiting the man who was red-faced and fuming. Finally securing his belt, he picked up his gun and aimed it up the trail at her. He fired and missed as she disappeared into the trees.
If she could keep him firing wildly, he would have to exhaust his supply of ammunition at some point and the shots might help rescuers locate her. She had learned to evade hunter’s bullets by staying close to a tree line and taking cover at the first sound of metal on metal. She wasn’t afraid of guns. They could only hurt you if you were in their line of fire or were unlucky enough to catch a ricochet off a tree or rock. Her keen senses had taught her to avoid such a predicament.
She led him on a chase, higher and higher onto the mountain, pausing occasionally to watch him struggle and to make an appearance that would keep him following. She knew he couldn't or wouldn't go back. It was too late for that. He had nothing more to lose. He would kill her if he caught her. Brinn saw the raw rage that covered his features and wondered how so much evil could exist in one person without burning him to ashes. She’d tried desperatel
y to see something good in this man during their time together, but there was nothing—nothing but a sociopathic drive that made him merciless and evil. That he could put on a façade of normalcy and decency made him that much more terrifying.
She didn’t deserve his wrath. What he was—what he did—was not her fault. She understood hatred, the relentless fire that burned her stomach raw with every memory of his touch. Yet his seething rage was uglier by far than anything that lived in her heart.
By noon, the sun was high, the air was hot, and the breeze was a comfort. It was one of those perfect September days of late summer, when life in the mountains was a bustling frenzy, as if all of nature worked in harmony preparing for the colder days of winter to come. Brinn was close to her cabin home and felt a sense of relief. If nothing else, she could hide in the root cellar if need be. He’d never find her there. The fear she had felt when Stockman had first begun to track her into the hills faded to a feeling of wary excitement. It was clear she had the upper hand and that the hunter had become the prey.
The man who followed her relentlessly continued to forge on, though he took frequent rests and she watched him labor to breathe. Seeing him slip and fall, pick himself up, and crawl up the rocky slope, she let her fear become distant, overshadowed by the growing confidence in her ability to outfox the weary predator. He was just a man—evil and cruel—but an invincible monster no longer. He had long since exhausted his supply of bullets and had discarded the gun an hour ago. Brinn now saw him as he had seen her all those years before, weak and helpless—a victim ripe for the taking.
She could stand where she was, wait for him to come within ten feet of her, and easily send her knife reeling end over end into his chest. Or she could lead him higher, weaken him further, and trap him in any number of treacherous snares that she watched hunters devise and leave behind in the woods. Brinn knew where every one of them was laid.
