by Aimée Thurlo
Though it was still early in the evening and she knew that most celestial activity would be after midnight, she kept her eyes on the heavens as she walked. The cloudless sky would make it easy to see nature’s light show. The streets here were dark enough for that, with streetlamps only at the intersections between blocks. No one minded, since the neighborhood was as safe as could be.
Although the south side of the boulevard beginning at the end of the block was zoned commercial, ordinances restricted light pollution and business signs. The coffee shop on the corner and the converted homes beyond served mostly as law and real estate professional offices and didn’t shout their presence.
There was no traffic at the moment, so Holly decided to leave the sidewalk and cross diagonally. There was a big pine tree in the median and she loved its Christmassy scent. As she stepped out into the street, Holly heard footsteps approaching from behind.
She turned, ready to greet a person she assumed would be one of her neighbors—but she was wrong. A man wearing some kind of dark bandanna over his face lunged toward her. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he grabbed her hard by the shoulders, pulling her close.
“Let go!” she yelled, pushing him in the chest as hard as she could.
Holly tried to scream, but a heavy glove quickly covered her mouth, cutting off her breath. The man spun her around, wrapped his free arm across her middle like a vise, then dragged her over the curb and onto the grass between the trees. When she kicked him in the leg, he lifted her off the ground, leaving her flailing in midair.
Grunting, he pushed her face down into the grass, his knees on her back. He smelled of sweat and strong aftershave, and his weight was crushing the air right out of her lungs. For a moment his hand slipped off her mouth and she screamed as loud as she could.
Holly felt him slip the loop of heavy cord over her head and knew he intended to strangle her. She was in a fight for her life. Terrified, she scrunched her chin against her chest and slipped her hand up under the cord, trying to keep it away from her throat. Her fingers pressed into her throat painfully, but if she wanted to live, she had to keep them in the way. It was her only hope.
Chapter Three
Daniel turned into the alley and parked his SUV in the rear lot of Simple Pleasures. The coffee shop—a former home—was off the street and had a big front porch with dining tables underneath for warmer weather and sunny days.
He pressed the key button remote to lock the car and wondered if he was early or late. When he was off the clock he preferred to go on Indian time, but he had a feeling that Holly was the kind of woman who appreciated promptness. It was certainly a plus in her type of business.
As Daniel strode down the narrow sidewalk toward the coffee shop’s rear entrance, he heard what sounded like a scream cut short. It had come from across the street, toward the front of the building. Instinctively he cut around the coffee shop and sprinted toward the sound.
Dimly illuminated by the streetlight were two people lying on the grass between the sidewalk and the street curb, fighting. Reaching into his jacket pocket as he ran, Daniel brought out a small flashlight and switched it on.
A guy wearing a blue bandanna over his face, like a cheap rustler from an old cowboy movie, had a cord wrapped around a woman’s neck. As the would-be killer turned his head to look, the glare of Daniel’s beam blinded him for a heartbeat.
The suspect instinctively threw his arm up to shield his eyes, revealing Holly’s face in the grass.
“Holly, roll!” he yelled, closing the gap between them.
Holly twisted away, breaking his grip. Her assailant im mediately jumped to his feet and swung around, crouched and ready to counter Daniel’s expected tackle.
Daniel led instead with a flying kick, catching the man full force in the chest. The impact knocked his opponent off the grass and across the narrow sidewalk, slamming his back into the low stone wall that bordered the lawn of the residence behind him. Daniel glanced at Holly, who was now on her knees, coughing.
“I’m okay,” she croaked, gasping for air.
Daniel focused once again on his enemy, who’d risen to his feet and was now in a fighting stance, right leg and arm slightly forward—his strong side.
“Come on,” the man whispered harshly, motioning confidently with his gloves. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
His attacker clearly had some training, but Daniel knew the initiative belonged to him now. He assumed an attack position, hands up and open, ready to advance or kick, or block with his forearms. The guy was bigger than he was, but that had never been much of a problem.
The man advanced, throwing a left jab to set up a right. Daniel slipped to the side, countering with a left punch to the man’s ribs as the incoming jab barely brushed his cheek. The man gasped and rocked back, stunned by the blow.
Suddenly they were both illuminated by the headlights of an approaching car. The glare caught Daniel by surprise and he was forced to step back, arms up. Yet no blow came—his attacker knew it was time to run.
Holly’s assailant shot down the sidewalk, leaped the low retaining wall, then raced across a front lawn toward a side street.
“I’m going after him. Stay here,” Daniel said, leaping over the low wall.
Confident he could keep the man in sight and eventually catch up to him, Daniel raced across the grass. As he started to narrow the gap, the man faked left toward the street, then cut right, heading down the side of the house toward a three-foot-high wall that enclosed the backyard. He jumped it cleanly, never breaking his stride.
Daniel followed seconds behind, but lost a step as he hurdled the wall and nearly collided with an outdoor grill. By then, his opponent was already nearing the opposite wall. Again, the man, wearing some kind of jogging sweats, hurdled the wall like a track star and actually gained ground.
Daniel reached the wall four seconds later and leaped over, only vaguely aware of the sound of a television program somewhere to his right.
As soon as he cleared the wall, he saw the back of the running man dodging some barren rosebushes as he sprinted toward another low wall on the far side of the next property.
Daniel knew he was gaining ground, but, focusing on his target, he nearly crashed into a rose trellis. He swerved at the last second, barely missing the plant. When he looked up, all he could see was the upper half of his target, fading away in the dark. The guy was a natural hurdler and soon went over the cinder block wall like an equestrian—minus the horse.
“Damn!” Daniel heard a female voice say from somewhere behind him and recognized Holly’s voice. She’d followed. Why the hell were women so difficult? They always seemed to do the opposite of what a man expected.
He pushed back the distraction. At least she’d recovered quickly enough to race after them, so he didn’t need to worry about her right now. He kept his gaze forward, and this time leaped just high enough to touch the wall with his right foot as he went over. It was easier now that he had his rhythm back, but he wasn’t gaining enough to bring down the suspect.
The next yard had the back porch light on, and he could see his target clearly. Almost as if sensing that he wouldn’t be able to outrun Daniel for long, the guy veered to his right, slipping on the cold grass and almost falling flat. Recovering quickly, he ducked around the side of the house toward the street and disappeared.
Daniel slowed down, suspecting a corner ambush, then caught a flash of something moving to his left, low to the ground. Spinning around, he saw a huge dog—or at least two rows of gleaming white teeth against a dark shape.
As the dog growled, Daniel jumped up onto the three foot wall. Forced to watch his feet, he ran along the narrow top. As soon as he reached the yard’s wooden gate, he jumped high over the top, praying he wasn’t leaping blind onto a stack of firewood.
Luck was with him. Daniel landed with a crunch on light gravel just as the dog slammed into the other side of the gate with an awesome thud.
Daniel glanced a
round quickly, but the driveway before him was empty. Then he heard the sound of squealing tires. As he turned his head back toward the boulevard, he saw taillights racing away. He’d lost him. It was over—for now.
He was walking back up the street in the direction of the coffee shop when he heard footsteps approaching to his right. “He’s getting away,” Holly called out, running across the lawn toward him. “I tried to catch up, but those danged walls kept slowing me down.”
“I thought I told you to stay put.”
Holly bristled. “And do what? Stand there gagging in the dark, hoping he wouldn’t circle the block and come back for round two? I felt safer chasing him.”
“Did you get the license plate, by any chance?”
“No, did you?” she answered.
He shook his head, dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed the police.
LESS THAN THREE minutes later, an officer drove up. The attractive blond officer recognized Daniel and smiled at him as she took out a small notebook. “You stirring up trouble on my beat again, Hawk?”
He gave her a grim smile. “It’s good to see you, Penny,” he said, then updated her, giving as much of a description as possible of their attacker.
“That’s not much to go on. He’s going to be changing his clothes right away, and his approximate height and build aren’t going to give us much of a lead.” Still taking notes, she glanced at Holly. “Did he speak to you at all, Ms. Gates?”
Holly shook her head. “No, he never said a word, Officer White,” she said, noting the officer’s name tag. “Somehow that made it even worse. He wanted me dead, but he had nothing to say to me?” Her voice broke at the last word and she swallowed hard.
“Have you had problems with anyone lately, an old boyfriend, maybe, or an ex-husband? A neighbor?”
Holly shook her head. “Never married, and no on the rest. Is there any attacker on the loose? Our neighborhood watch usually warns us regarding a crime spree, but I haven’t heard about any serious problems lately.”
“Things have been quiet,” Officer White said. “Particularly in this neighborhood.”
“Not anymore,” Daniel said.
Officer White nodded somberly.
“I have one possible lead for you,” Daniel said, then told her about the incident with Keeswood earlier that day.
“Clyde Keeswood’s basically a loudmouth,” Holly said, shaking her head. “He wants attention and makes noise to get it, but he’s not really violent. He knew I’d see the chair coming and dodge. Had he really meant to hurt me, he would have rushed the podium.”
“It’s still possible that tonight’s incident was in retaliation for what happened earlier,” the officer said, placing her notebook back into her pocket. “We’ll talk to Mr. Keeswood and get in touch with you if we need to do a follow-up. In the meantime, you might want to avoid going for walks alone at night,” she said. Giving Daniel a quick nod and smile, Officer White got into her patrol car and drove off.
“Why don’t we go have something to eat and try to sort this out? Are you up to it?” he asked, noticing how she had her arms folded, almost as if hugging herself.
She nodded, then walked with him up the street. “Do you really think this had something to do with my work for the tribe?”
“What happened tonight could have a dozen explanations, including a stalker, but let it go for now,” he said, his voice steady. “Once you eat something and have a little time to relax, you may find that you’re able to remember more, little details you might have blocked out because you were too busy staying alive.”
“All right. I’ll try. I want this man caught and put behind bars. He’s…crazy.”
“Maybe,” Daniel muttered under his breath as he walked beside her down the sidewalk.
DANIEL ORDERED a green chile cheeseburger with the works. She decided on a grilled cheese sandwich. She wasn’t at all hungry and her throat was a little sore, but from the looks of it, Daniel had worked up quite an appetite after tonight’s run.
Holly picked at her sandwich and sipped the warm, soothing chamomile-and-peppermint-flavored tea, one of her favorites. Logic told her that it was over and she had nothing else to fear, but she still couldn’t quite make herself relax.
“You saved my life tonight and I haven’t even thanked you yet,” she said, warming her hands on the ceramic mug she was holding.
He smiled. “It’s not necessary, but I’d like you to answer one question for me. You were unarmed, yet you still raced after the man who tried to strangle you. What were you planning to do if you caught him?”
“I can’t fight, but I might have been able to distract him while you did the rough stuff,” she said, then paused before continuing, “There are many ways to win a fight, Daniel. Sometimes it’s a matter of buying someone else a few seconds to act.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Diversions can be crucial in some situations.”
“Earlier today, you offered to give me some pointers on how to spot trouble. I’m ready to listen. The guy walked right up to me and I never thought a thing about it until he grabbed me by the shoulders. By then it was too late.”
He nodded. “All right. For starters, when you’re giving a talk, watch individuals, not just the overall group. Look for behavior that doesn’t fit in with the others present. Search for small telltale signs, not just confrontational stares. For example, people who are lying or have an agenda tend to touch their face a lot. If you’re close enough, watch for downward gazes, too, or looking off to the right. Attitude and posturing are the keys. Guys looking for trouble often telegraph their intentions,” he said. “The single most important thing is this—if you think there’s going to be trouble, get backup fast.”
“No problem there. I’m not a fighter by nature,” she said quietly.
“You’re still scared, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “You don’t have to be. He’s gone. He got a lot more than he bargained for tonight.”
“Yes, but will he come back and try again? Not knowing is the worst part of this.” She wished she could have said something tough and brave sounding instead, but the truth was that she was terrified. “I wish you’d have just brought out your gun and held him until the police came, instead of fighting him face-to-face.”
“It’s locked up in my SUV. I rarely carry it off the job. Besides, I never draw my weapon unless I’m going to use it and that wasn’t an option tonight. I never had a clear line of fire.” He took a deep breath. “Guns aren’t always the best solution, either. A show of deadly force often provokes a lethal response from your opponent, and stray bullets don’t discriminate. When I draw my weapon, it’s because I have no other choice, and the person who forced that response is likely to end up dead.”
The total lack of emotion in his voice chilled her to the bone. Yet the way his hand had curled into a hard fist revealed another story. Beyond his acceptance of the inevitability of violence was an acute awareness of the cost it exacted.
“My job is very different from yours,” she said with a soft sigh. “It’s about logic, and reason, and the ability to communicate effectively. The incident with the chair this morning isn’t the norm at all. Mind you, cranks and protesters will shout all kinds of things, but until today, I’ve never had that escalate into an actual physical attack.”
“The problem is that the Diné have been lied to for centuries, and the tribe is still paying the price for believing outsiders—illnesses and death from unsafe mining operations, contaminated water and ground poisoned by uranium.”
“But this is the tribe’s own process. No one’s lying to anyone.”
“You see tribal government working on behalf of its people, but Diné activists see Anglo corporations coming to talk to our leaders and selling them a bill of goods. You’re going to keep having problems,” Daniel said. “The protesters are going on the offensive, so you need to stay alert whenever you’re in public.”
“And know when to duck?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that, too.”
As they talked, Holly found herself relaxing and enjoying Daniel’s company. After they finished dessert, she once again tried to review the details of what had happened earlier. Though she worked hard to look at the events objectively, no new answers came to her.
“What happened to me tonight…it must have been random. In my business I don’t make these types of enemies. I’m a spokesperson, that’s all, not someone who implements policy. The man who came at me must have had his own agenda.”
“You might be right,” he said, but his tone said he was unconvinced.
“It’s getting late,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I don’t want to walk back home alone. Would you give me a ride?”
“Be glad to.”
They left the coffee shop and rode back in his SUV. The interior was spotless and smelled of leather and lime aftershave. She sat back, glad for the company, particularly now. There was something very reassuring about Daniel’s presence.
When they pulled up in front of her home a short time later, she saw him studying her front porch, watching the white swing that swayed gently in the cool breeze.
“I’d invite you in, but I need to try and get some sleep. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” she said.
“My guess is that you still have too much adrenaline pumping through your system. I know—I’ve been there. What’s your way of relaxing? Music, exercise or something else?”
It was the way he’d emphasized those last two words that immediately sparked her imagination. She could have sworn she’d heard a very tempting invitation there.
Holly pushed the thought aside. She wasn’t thinking clearly, that’s all. The man had asked her a simple question.
“I’m going to go inside, put on my fuzzy slippers and break open the box of chocolate truffles I’ve been saving for my next celebration.”
