What was that?
She saw it again.
Oh my god.
Something dangling from Breeze’s belt reflected the early morning light. His knife.
Chapter 30
Grace’s feet tore at the dirt as she scrambled up the switchbacks. She cut corners across rocky terrain, using her hands to scrabble across loose stones. Dirt and gravel sailed behind her. Her feet struggled for footholds. Her muscles strained with each fresh exertion.
She didn’t dare waste time looking back. In her mind, Breeze was close on her heels, though the noise of her own ascent drowned out any other sound. Snagging twigs felt like hands. The wind like his breath. The clutching in her throat like his fingers closing around it. The crest of the ridge felt as far away as it had been when she first noticed him.
Faster.
Near the top, the trail leveled. Grace flung herself over the last incline, onto the dusty path, and hazarded a glimpse over her shoulder. Breeze had halved the distance between them. He clambered straight up the canyon wall like a mountain lion.
Grace raced across the short crest against the objections of her body. Her clogs felt like magnetized moon boots. Her arms swung as though through wet cement. A corset encased her lungs.
Faster.
The descending trail rapidly metamorphosed into a foot-wide gravel lane wedged between pine trees, rocks, and boulders. It zigzagged down the steeply sloping incline, turning back on itself every two-hundred feet. Grace gave up cutting corners.
Too steep.
She kept to the path and sprinted. Her yellow shoes pounded the trail. Smaller rocks skidded from beneath her. The sound of scattering stones from above warned her that Breeze was narrowing the gap.
Faster.
A rumble overtook her. A surge of debris showered the trail, cascaded down the mountain, and echoed across the canyon wall. Grace looked up. Breeze was cutting switchbacks. Hurtling down the slope from tree to tree. Dislodging large stones as he ran. He crashed, arms outstretched, into a trunk. Then pointed himself at the next tree and took off again.
No.
She mimicked him and chose a tree below, plunging down the incline, feet slithering on the shale. The trunk broke her fall, but the stump of a broken branch dug fiercely into her shoulder. She pushed off immediately and raced toward another tree farther down.
But there were fifty-seven switchbacks leading down from Bear Ridge.
Breeze steadily reduced the distance between them.
Grace’s world contracted to one tree at a time. On reaching it without falling. On flinging herself toward the next.
Faster.
She heard him only a few trees behind. The air vibrated with the clatter of displaced stones and cascading gravel. At the next tree, she felt a rush of wind. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Breeze arrive a second too late to grab her arm.
Faster.
She ricocheted off the next tree without stopping. And plummeted downhill.
Faster.
Footsteps hammered the ground.
Get away.
She spun and charged sideways across the slope instead of down.
Breeze hurtled past her. He skidded to a stop at a tree below.
Grace stood panting. Breeze was already ascending the slope. She scratched her way up the stones, weaving back and forth to scatter debris in his face. But the uphill climb advantaged Breeze’s leg length and strength.
He lurched forward and grabbed at her ankle. She kicked dirt and pebbles. A rock hit his face with a crunch. He spat out a curse, then renewed his charge up the hillside. Another few seconds and his hands tightened around her waist.
Grace fell with his pull instead of resisting. They both sailed into the air, tumbled down the slope, bounced over stones and roots, and crashed through the underbrush.
Dirt and sticks flew. Breeze released his hold.
She heard him yell.
She flipped onto her stomach and dug her hands and feet into the ground until she stopped and lay motionless, bruised and bleeding, her face pressed against the hard soil. After a minute, she caught her breath and clambered to her hands and knees. She scanned the hill below with frightened eyes.
He’s gone.
Grace grimaced. The pain was so ubiquitous that she couldn’t pinpoint its source. A few feet above lay the trail. She regained it with difficulty and surveyed the still empty slope.
Where is he?
She hobbled down the incline.
Get to VVR.
She held her right arm to protect her aching shoulder and the strangely twisted wrist that she could no longer move. Squeaks of ground squirrels made her jump. Her eyes swiveled constantly. Back and forth across the trail. Up the mountainside. Behind. She scanned trees, boulders, and bushes, but no one erupted from the shadows.
Twenty minutes later, the forest thickened. Pine trees crowded close upon the narrow path. Her head spun with pain and fatigue.
I can’t make it.
Then a roar exploded from among the trees.
Breeze leapt and knocked her to the ground. Grace screamed as her injured arm collided with a rock.
He landed on top of her and straddled her torso. His hands latched around her throat. Fingers crushed her windpipe. Her neck twisted and arched back over a rock.
She gazed up at the leering face distorted by pine needles stuck to matted blood. One eye bulged with hatred. The other was swollen shut.
Grace closed her eyes.
Breeze’s voice was unrecognizable. “This time. You’re not. Getting away.”
Grace opened her eyes.
I’m. Still. Fighting.
She glimpsed bone glinting through a ragged gash in Breeze’s forearm. Grace’s good hand aimed and punched the bruised and bloody skin. Breeze howled with pain and released his grip.
“Fucking bitch.”
Grace tried to roll over. But he pinned her body more tightly between his knees. She twisted and grabbed for his shirt. He leaned away, squeezing her ribs.
Then she watched him lift his knife, holding it between open palms. He raised it over her head.
Her scream echoed down the mountain.
She averted her eyes in the final instant before a bright flash and a seemingly never-ending blackness enveloped her.
Chapter 31
“Grace.” It was a man’s voice. “Grace, darlin’, wake up.”
I don’t want to.
Grace’s eyes fluttered despite herself. Shadows of faces surrounded her.
Mom. Dad. Hope. Celine.
“Lone Star? Is that you?”
“Yep.” His Texas drawl elongated the word into two syllables. “Glad to see you’ve decided to join us.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Where am I? What are you doing here?”
She focused for the first time on the white walls and had a vague impression of a clear plastic bag on a hook next to the bed. “I’m in a hospital?”
“Right again.”
The crowd thronged her, clogging her ears with words of congratulation and questions about how she felt. The room spun.
A woman in green scrubs appeared. “Give her a while.”
The next time Grace opened her eyes, only Celine sat by her bed.
Celine smiled. “You’re awake.”
Grace shifted on the pillow. “What happened?”
Celine wrinkled her brow. “You’re probably not ready for a long story. Maybe I’d better get a nurse.”
“No. I’m okay. I want to know.”
Celine’s eyes flicked from Grace to the call button and back. “What do you remember?”
Grace’s mind floated on a sea of unwelcome memories. Celine half rose from her chair before Grace held her arm.
“It’s all right. Give me a second. The last thing I remember…” She paused and forced calmness into her voice. “I saw someone get murdered. I need to talk to the police.”
Celine nodded. “We know. The police know. They’ve
been out there already. They found Jerry Kriebel’s body in the river.”
“You mean Stoli? A tall, young guy with brown hair?”
“I certainly hope there was only one body floating in the river.” Celine’s attempted laugh emerged as only a long exhalation. “Some hiker found it. There were police at Vermillion Valley Resort before we even got on the trail.”
“You were on the PCT? Who’s we?”
Celine edged the white plastic chair closer to the side of the bed. “Let me start from the beginning.” Her eyes gazed at a corner of the room. “A few weeks ago this guy started calling your office.”
Grace raised her eyebrows. “What guy?”
Celine laid fingers to her lips. “Hush. Let me tell the story. He was pretty persistent. But they wouldn’t give out any information. So, eventually, he found me. Got any ideas which hiker dude was trying to get in touch with you?”
Grace grinned. “Lone Star.”
“Well, kinda. Lone Star to you. Gus to me. Gus and I got to be real buddies. He felt horrible about not being able to contact you after he got hurt. He was worried you’d think he’d forgotten you. I think you know the rest.”
“He came to meet me.”
“Yeah. And after that he and I cooked up a plan. We met here in Fresno and drove to VVR. We hiked up the trail to surprise you as you came down.”
“So you were there when Breeze tried to…”
Celine looked down at the covers. “I was there. So was Gus. He’s the one who saved you.”
“Saved me?”
“We heard screams. Gus recognized your voice. He took off like a cheetah. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. I couldn’t keep up, but I kept him in sight. He saw that guy about to…so Gus came up from behind and kicked that knife like a football. It flew straight into a tree. And the guy…”
Grace nodded for her to continue.
“He got up. Gus rushed him. The guy was totally crazed. Fought like a madman and ripped away. Ran straight down the hill, right at me. Lost his balance. And, girl, I tell you, he fell. Rolled like he was made of rubber. Legs and arms all over the place.” Celine shivered. “I can’t get that image out of my head. He practically landed at my feet. Awful. Worst thing I’ve ever seen.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Grace reached out her hand. “I’m so lucky you were there.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Celine squeezed Grace’s fingers. “Gus’s the one who did all the work. He broke his arm in the fight.”
A man pushed open the door. “You did plenty, Celine. Don’t let her tell you no different, Just Grace, honey. It was Celine’s cool head that got you to a hospital.”
Lone Star strode into the room and winked at Celine. His suntanned face and light pink shirt peeked out from behind an enormous bouquet of red roses. He deposited the cut crystal vase on a bedside table with one arm and leaned over.
Grace’s awareness contracted to the soft touch of skin against skin, to the caress of his hand as it cupped her face. She closed her eyes as their lips met and opened them to see the loving gaze of his blue eyes that told her all she wanted to know. Her lips broadened into a smile that beamed both passion and contentment.
“On the trail they told me to be happy where I was.” She snuggled into his arm. “Lone Star, my love, I am happy.”
Celine tiptoed out of the room.
Later, Grace gazed out the hospital window at towering Sierra peaks shrouded in morning haze. Lone Star followed her glance as he sat at her bedside, his uninjured hand engulfing hers. “You’ll get back to the trail someday.”
“We’ll get back when we’re ready.” Grace locked her eyes with his. “But next time you’re walking slowly. Because look what happened when you let me out of your sight.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
***
Two weeks later, Celine and Grace sat cross-legged on the floor of Grace’s dining room. The carpet was littered with unsent resupply boxes, hiking gear, empty plastic bins, and baggies of food. Vases of red roses crowded the remaining space. Grace gazed past the detritus and out the window at the twinkling San Rafael Bay twilight. Her back rested against an overflowing cardboard box.
Celine sat opposite, beer bottle in hand. She gestured with a huge grin at the box Grace leaned against. “So, when’s Mr. Teleflora arriving?”
“Tomorrow.” Grace’s eyes shone with joy. “He’s taking the morning flight from El Paso. We’re using the long weekend to hike in Marin.”
“Flying must be less expensive than sending you flowers. And probably better for the environment. For a guy who loves nature, he’s not very eco-conscious.”
“I think it’s sweet.” Grace’s mouth crinkled at the corners. “He said he’d send a bouquet for every day he wasn’t with me on the trail.”
“Ugh. Way too romantic. Do I still have time to buy stock in the floral delivery company?”
“He’s still got a few weeks left to send them.”
“I’ll tell my broker.”
They laughed. Celine reached into the box behind Grace and pulled out a size fourteen hiking shoe. “He left his stuff here, I see. Smart guy. Since he’s half living here already.” She rummaged through more of the contents and held up a nylon sack. “You got a new tent. A two person model?”
“I tossed my tent in the hospital dumpster before Mom and Dad picked me up. Too many memories. Especially with Breeze being dead.” She shuddered.
Celine let the new tent drop. “That fall he took. Still gives me nightmares.” The two of them stared at the lights in the bay. “Speaking of your parents, you know they were off the charts worried about you, right? Your mom even called me when she heard. She said they’d take their house off the market if you didn’t get better.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. Those two are so excited to be moving to Atlanta. Hope needs them. Anyway, I’m fine. The cast comes off in three weeks.” She waved an orange plastered arm.
Celine shrugged. “I’m pumped you’re on the mend. But a normal person would consider themselves in the recovery phase. You and Gus are both still in casts. Hiking with your arm in a sling. That’s hardcore.”
“We don’t think about it that way.” Grace fingered the laces of Gus’s hiking boot. “It’s strange. I’m back here in my, quote, normal life. But nothing about it seems normal anymore. Cars go too fast. People are all in a rush. Lone Star says I have to get used to transitioning between on and off the trail.”
“Maybe things’ll be easier in Texas.”
“I’m eager to see.”
Celine sipped her beer. The two women gazed at the sun’s fading pink shadow in the sky. Celine broke the silence. “I’m thinking of going back to school.”
“Celine, that’s awesome.”
“I’m going to be single for a while, so I want to make good money. I figure computer science will start me on the path to becoming a dot com millionaire.” Anticipation and mischief sparkled in Celine’s eyes.
“You won’t be single forever. Not someone as smart and gorgeous as you.”
“No.” Celine pushed long, thin braids from her forehead with an exaggerated fashion model sweep. “Not forever. But your brother’s a hard act to follow.”
“Yes, he is. I keep wondering what he would have done if he’d been out there instead of me.”
“You mean the murder?”
“I mean all of it. The hike, the storms, the heat, the cold, the blisters, the people. No matter how many times I go over it in my head, in the end, I’m happy it was me. Kenji would have done fine. But I think, despite all my worries and my total lack of preparation, I was the best person to handle it.”
“Could be.”
“You know what’s absolutely crazy?”
“What?”
“Except for the end, the final two days, I wouldn’t go back and change any of it. Even if I could. Do I sound like a freak?”
“You mean you’d want to go through
the desert and all the mountain climbing and everything?”
“Well…” Grace paused. “It’s hard to explain. I started hiking to get away from my life. Instead, I ended up being happy with it the way it is.”
“Finding your true love might have something to do with that.”
“Moving on. That’s what it was. I didn’t stay stuck.”
“So Gus doesn’t get any credit?”
“He gets all the credit. But I’d never have found him if I hadn’t left my old life behind.”
Grace pushed herself off the floor and pulled Celine up with her good arm. “Want to help me clean up a bit before he comes? Some things are tough with a cast.”
They picked their way through boxes and flowers. Grace pushed open the white bedroom door. Celine jerked to a stop, eyes wide.
Bedframe parts reclined against the walls. A queen-size mattress and box spring leaned precariously against a pine dresser. Two sleeping bags rested side by side on the hardwood.
“You took your bed apart because you two want to sleep on the floor?”
Grace winked. “Celine, there’s one thing you have to understand.” She stepped around the sleeping bags and tossed Celine an empty clothes hamper. “I learned an important lesson out there. I learned you can take a thru out of the wilderness, but you can never take the wilderness out of a thru.”
The End
About the Author
Christine Hartmann grew up in Ohio and Delaware and loves traveling to exotic, romantic settings. After a college semester in Kathmandu, her first three “real” jobs were all in northern Japan, where she lived for almost 10 years. She currently splits her career between her daytime occupation (improving the quality of veterans’ nursing home care) and her nights/weekend avocation (writing both fiction and non-fiction books). Her husband Ron Strickland is a well-known long-distance hiker, trail guide writer, and the founder of the 1,200-mile Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail. Christine loves reading, pilates, bicycling, snorkeling, and health foods that taste like they’re bad for you. You will often find her at a keyboard, a German shepherd at her side, and Ron whispering sweet edits over her shoulder.
Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1) Page 19
