Dear Katherine,
I’m sorry I left you like that. But I have returned to Lithia, and I need to see you. Meet me this evening at 5 p.m. on our trail. Please come. I’ll be waiting.
Roman
~
I enter the trail at a blistering pace, my lungs heaving. My second run of the day, and I don’t know how much more energy I can coax out of my legs, but I don’t care.
I barely remember telling David that I needed an energy drink and that I’d be back soon—I remember a confused look on his face, his mouth about to protest, the sound of the door closing behind me. As I raced up the residential streets toward the forest, I realized that I’ve given David plenty of reasons to hire another person.
I hadn’t planned to come at all—and now I’ve surprised even myself by rushing over here at the last minute. I meant what I’d said to Alex—I’m with him now, only him—but apparently Roman has a stronger pull over me than I’d imagined. It’s almost as if, when it comes to Roman, I stop thinking with my mind and start thinking only with my body—the body that is now propelling me up the trail, longing to see him again.
I don’t have a clue what I will say to him when I see him. Though I’d been so upset and angry, I hadn’t actually expected him to leave town forever—not because of me. And I suppose one of the reasons I’m here is because I’m so anxious about my father. Roman had protected me from him once, by getting rid of that investigator, and maybe I’m hoping he will again.
When I can run no longer, I slow to a walk and lean over, hands on my waist, to catch my breath. I keep my legs moving to avoid cramping. Though it won’t be dark for a few more hours, the sun is already behind the trees, the light fading, the air cooling.
I walk up a bit higher, and the sweat begins to dry on my arms, covering them in goose bumps. I stop and look around. My watch reads 5:15, but there is no sign of Roman. Had I gotten the time wrong? I pat the little pockets of my running shorts, but I don’t have the note. I shiver in a sudden, cool breeze coming down from the mountain.
Something isn’t right. I don’t know how I know this, but I have the sudden feeling that I need to get out of here—now.
I turn around and head back to town, my energy returning in the form of fear. I can see my breath in front of me, and this quickens my heartbeat even more. It doesn’t make any sense: It’s summer, the sun still up, and the air is so cold I can see my breath. I run faster.
“Hello, Katherine.”
It isn’t Roman’s voice, but it’s a familiar one all the same. I stop and look around, but there’s no one there. The voice must’ve been in my head, a greeting disguised as a warning, and I start running again, as fast as I can.
But it’s too late. He is right in front of me, his face glowing white in the fading light, eyes like brake lights, standing in my path, still as a statue.
Victor.
“Leaving so soon?” he asks.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. “Where’s Roman?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
I should’ve known. “You sent the letter.”
“Of course I did. I knew only Roman could lure you up here alone, and I know where he gets his stationery. I must say, it was far easier than I thought it would be.”
“I’m not really alone—people know I’m here,” I tell him. Meanwhile, my mind starts planning an escape route. There are about fifteen feet between us, and if I cut through a swath of forest to my right I can catch the trail down toward town. But I’ll need more of a head start. Much more.
He is chuckling now. “There’s no point in lying to me,” Victor says. “No one knows you’re here, and you and I both know that you’re not going anywhere. Not until you tell me where Roman is.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“I don’t believe that. Roman was in love with you. Surely he told you where he was going.”
“He didn’t. I swear.”
“And you think I should simply trust your word on this?”
“I wish I did know where he is. Especially right now.” I take a step forward, as if to walk past him and continue on my way. “Now, if that’s all … ”
But Victor moves toward me, and I quickly back up again.
“I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but our business is not concluded. I assumed that he would fall out of love and grow tired of you—but no. You changed him. You drove him away. Now I must do what I should have done with you when I had the chance.”
I take two more steps back.
“I know you fancy yourself quite the runner,” Victor says, coming toward me, “but you can’t outrun me, I’m afraid.”
He begins to move more quickly, and I can’t back up fast enough. But I won’t turn my back on him—if I’m going to die now, I want to face him, at least go down fighting.
I hear a shout come from the trees, and before I have a chance to turn my head, Alex is standing on the path between me and Victor.
“Back off, Victor.”
“Alex, my boy. It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough.”
“You don’t seriously believe you can stop me, do you?”
Alex turns to me, and he has a look in his green eyes that frightens even me—pure determination and not a wisp of fear. I’ve never seen him this way before.
“Are you okay?” he asks me, and I nod.
He turns to Victor. “Roman’s gone. Which means it’s time you took off after him.”
“I see. You two are a couple now. How adorable.”
“Are you going to leave, or am I going to have to—”
Before I realize what’s happening, Alex and Victor are at each other’s necks, falling across the gravel of the path, then floating above it. A high-pitched noise pierces the air, like the sound of coyotes at night, and then Alex is thrown against a tree, and I hear the sound of wood splitting.
Victor turns around and smiles at me. “That was easy.” He steps toward me. “Now, where were we?”
Then, I hear the whoosh of an arrow streaking through the air, and a sharp stake impales Victor’s shoulder from the back. When Victor’s mouth opens, I hear a noise I’ve never heard before—it’s loud but somehow both soft and shrill, like thousands of tiny voices all screaming at once.
I shudder and step away.
Alex is walking toward Victor’s hunched frame, holding another piece of the tree, this one even longer and sharper. Victor begins slouching away.
“I warned you, Victor.”
“You and your little trees,” Victor croaks, his lips curling in a mean twist. “I should have put you down long ago.”
“Likewise.”
I hug my arms to my body, and that’s when I notice that I no longer have goose bumps. The mysterious chill in the air is gone, as if a freezer door has been closed. I can hear my breath but can no longer see it. When I look up again, Victor is gone.
Alex puts his arms around me, and then I’m completely warm again. We stand like that, holding each other, for a few long moments, then silently turn toward town.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask him as we walk down the trail.
“That note. You left it at the store. I saw it when I dropped by to see if you wanted to have dinner.”
“And you were mad that I came up here to see Roman?”
“I didn’t come here out of jealousy. I came because I knew it wasn’t from Roman. He really is gone, Kat. He came to see me the night he left. He said he wanted me to look after you.”
“Since when do you do what Roman asks you to do?”
He smiles. “That’s not the reason I’m here either. I’m looking after you because I’m falling in love with you. Isn’t that obvious by now?”
“I guess it is.” I stop walking and put my arms around him, holding on tight. “You’re sure you’re not upset that I wanted to see Roman? I don’t even understand it myself. Unfinished business, I guess.”
He sighs and pulls awa
y to look at me. “I understand. You two have a past. But I know you, Kat, the way you see the world. I know that you could never be with someone like him.”
As confused as I am when it comes to Roman, I know that Alex is right—how could I ever accept Roman’s values when they go against everything that I believe? “Thank you,” I say. “For understanding. For looking out for me.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I can smell the scent of pine in his hair and feel the whisper of bark against his skin, and I feel now, more than ever, that Alex and I are meant to be together, and I wonder how I ever could have felt that sliver of doubt that allowed Roman to slip into my mind. I promise myself that I will close my heart to Roman forever.
Six
The realization that I might’ve died up there on the trail—and that it wasn’t the first time—doesn’t fully hit me until the next morning as I’m getting ready for class. And the reminder that my father is in town doesn’t hit me until then either, when I listen to the three messages he’d left on my voice mail.
I’d spent the whole night at Alex’s place, curled up with him and his many rescue animals—two dogs, two cats, and a rabbit. I held the bunny on my lap in Alex’s tiny kitchen while he made dinner for me, and afterward we walked the dogs, then came home and snuggled up with the cats. And with each other. The animals weren’t very happy about that. One of the cats bit Alex on the arm when he began kissing me, and he had to give her some catnip so she’d leave us alone.
It was the best evening I’ve had in a long time, and being there with Alex made it easy to forget a lot of things.
Like the fact that I almost lost my life … again.
And the fact that my father is in town.
And the fact that I have a paper due in less than two hours.
~
I rush to the computer lab before class and write furiously. I suppose I am lucky, in a way, to have so many concerns about the environment—it means that everything I need to write this ten-page paper is at my fingertips. And while it’s a depressing topic—I write about factory farms and how they pollute the air and water—it also feels surprisingly good to write about being a vegan; it makes me feel that there is a way I can help the planet, even in my own small way.
But most of all, I rush through my essay because I want to see Lucy before class begins. I still feel bad about having left her so suddenly that day my dad showed up—I can’t believe it was only two days ago—and I worry that she’s mad at me, that I’ve lost the only girlfriend I’ve had in years.
I arrive early and hang around in the hall. The other students show up, give me funny looks, and walk past me into the classroom. It’s almost time for the class to start—still no Lucy.
Finally she strolls down the hall, slowing a bit when she sees me standing there. She gives me a snarky look. “Well, well, well,” she says. “If it isn’t my long-lost study buddy.”
“I’m sorry I left so fast,” I tell her. “I wanted to explain, but I didn’t know how to reach you.”
She shrugs. “Don’t bother. It’s better if I fail these classes on my own.”
She starts to walk past me, but I step in front of her. “You know that guy you saw staring at me? It was my father—who I haven’t seen in almost a year. He showed up out of nowhere. And the last time I saw him—” I stop. “Well, it wasn’t good. We had a really bad fight.”
She looks at me. “Seriously?”
I nod. It feels good to be telling someone about it. “I didn’t know what to do—I just had to get out of there. And he keeps calling me, wanting to get together.”
“What’s the problem, exactly?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“Well, is he dangerous?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Probably? What does he want?”
“He says he wants to have dinner, to talk.”
She studies me for a moment. “I don’t know anything about him—and I don’t know much about you either, come to think of it—but if you’re scared of him, call the cops. If you’re not, meet him in a public place and see what he wants. Otherwise, he’ll just drive you insane.”
This actually makes sense. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Not to mention he’ll keep interrupting our study sessions. It was a pain in the ass to write that paper by myself, you know.”
I smile at her. “Sorry. How can I make it up to you?”
She begins to smile back, but in a wily sort of way, and I say, “No way. I can’t audition with you.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I told you—I’m not an actor.”
“Let the director be the judge of that.”
Professor Lindquist pokes his head out the door, saving me from telling her that I’d rather be eaten by vampires than audition for a play. “Ladies? Planning on joining us today?”
“Yes,” I answer, and I grab Lucy’s arm and drag her inside with me.
~
I decide that Lucy is right, that I can’t live in fear of the unknown any longer. So, finally, I return my father’s phone call.
He suggests taking me to Encore, the fancy steakhouse where Roman took me on our first date. I remind my father that I don’t eat meat, expecting the usual lecture about how un-American it is, how no child of Texas turns her back on meat, but instead he says, with hardly a pause, “You pick the place. We’ll go wherever you want.”
I choose an Italian restaurant in the center of town, the busiest place I know. As Lucy suggested, I want a crowd around me—witnesses. I thought about inviting Alex or David or even Lucy, just for safety, but then I realize that this is something I need to do on my own. I need to see him face-to-face, to hear what he has to say, and if I tell anyone I’m meeting him, they’ll only cloud my judgment, or talk me out of it.
And I also realize that I have questions for him, too. Questions that might help me put the past behind me, once and for all.
I’m waiting in front of the restaurant when I see him walking toward me with a smile. It’s an expression I don’t recognize—he hardly ever smiles, and when he does, it isn’t a smile that welcomes you but a smile that tells you something awful is about to happen, that he’s about to throw a beer bottle or a punch.
But now he looks genuinely friendly—at least, that’s how he’d seem to someone who doesn’t know better.
“Thanks for meeting me, Katie,” he says. “I’m really glad we have a chance to talk.”
I open the door to the restaurant, which is as crowded and noisy as I’d hoped. I’ve put my name in already, hoping to be seated as quickly as possible; I don’t want the evening to last any longer than it needs to. A hostess takes us to a table in the corner.
When a waiter asks if we’d like anything to drink, I’m stunned when my father asks for nothing but water. I remember him only as a loud, boorish drunk of a man—a man bearing no resemblance to the calm, composed person in front of me now, smiling up at the waiter. Is it possible that he’s changed?
I look down and pretend to study my menu. No, I tell myself, it’s not possible. People do not change—take Roman, for example. He may not be exactly human, but he’s certainly a testament to the fact that you are who you are, no matter what.
Then I remind myself that Alex used to be just like Roman, and I find myself wavering again. If Alex could change his dangerous ways, can’t anyone?
My father and I order our food, and then I look him in the eye. He meets my gaze, and his eyes, for once, are not bloodshot or angry. I don’t know what to say, where to begin—the fact that he is sitting here in front of me is strange enough. Then he reaches into his pocket and puts something on the table in front of me.
It’s a necklace, and all I can do is stare at it in amazement. It’s lovely—a semi-translucent globe, made of some sort of light-green polished stone, suspended by a silver necklace that looks handmade. There’s something familiar about it, and I wonder if I’ve seen it in a jewelry sho
p in town.
“What’s this?” I ask, wanting to know what the catch is.
“It used to be your mom’s.”
I look up at him, then back at the necklace. I close my eyes, trying to remember. Mom did have a necklace that she wore a lot when I was young—the only piece of jewelry she had. I remember that I’d feel a hard knot under her sweater in the wintertime—about the same size as this stone—and then I think of her in the summer, in her T-shirts and sundresses, and suddenly I remember the way the stone would capture the light, the way the summer rays would bring out the yellow woven through it until the stone glowed like a tiny sun.
I open my eyes again. I look at the stone, at the delicate chain, the swirls of silver that compose the clasp. I touch my fingers to the stone and imagine it resting on my mother’s neck.
“It’s serpentine,” my father says. “You can find it in lots of the old rocks up in the hills. The natives used to carry it around because they thought it had mystical powers.”
“Is that why Mom wore it?”
“I’m not sure,” he says. “She told me it was in her family forever. Said it gave her luck.”
“I guess she wasn’t wearing it that night.”
“No,” he says. “I found it later. Glad I kept it. She would’ve wanted you to have it.”
“This is for me?”
“It’s for you.”
I pick it up and hold it in my hand. My father has never given me anything—ever.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t look surprised to hear me ask. In fact, he almost looks relieved. “I came to see you, of course.”
“Why, to have me locked up?”
“Why would I do that?”
I’m starting to wonder if that night in Houston had been nothing but a bad dream. Then it strikes me that maybe, because he’d been drunk and injured, he himself didn’t know exactly what happened.
“Dad,” I say, “do you know why I left?”
He nods. “Of course.”
“I shot you.” The words don’t come easily, but I have to say this out loud, just to make sure we understand each other.
The Ghost Runner Page 4
