My Heart is Home

by Barbara Gee

  I did what I should have done earlier. I prayed. Please, God. Help me. Let me get back to JP and Lily.

  “I’m gettin’ a little tired of havin’ to ask you everything twice,” Willard said ominously.

  I swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. “There’s something you should know, Willard.” I sounded utterly calm. “It would be a big mistake to harm me. It’ll only add to what could already be a pretty lengthy prison stay for you two.”

  The smile faded. “Sweetheart, if I decide to….harm you….no one will know. You think I don’t know places I could hide the evidence out here in these woods?”

  Bobby looked wary. “What do you mean by sayin’ we already got a long prison stay?”

  “I mean the cops are on the way, Bobby. They’re going to see what you’ve been up to out here, and I suspect that’ll only be the beginning.”

  “Impossible,” Willard said, the evil smile returning. “You can’t call the cops. No cell phone’ll work out here.”

  “Which is why you have a satellite dish and wi-fi. Which allows emails, even text messages if you have the right app.”

  “So?”

  Bobby nodded rapidly. “Yeah, so what? We got a business to run here. We gotta have some way to communicate.”

  I stared them down. “The password to your wi-fi is 123456.”

  “So what?” Bobby asked again, looking confused.

  The more intelligent Willard got it. “You hooked up to it?”

  “Right when I got here. Then I sent a text to my friend to let her know what I was doing. She’s really good at techie things, you see, and she used my phone to record everything you all said in the cabin. It’s probably still recording, in fact.”

  Willard stiffened. “Give me the phone,” he said, his voice low and threatening. Then he reached under his jacket and brought out a gun. He didn’t point it at me, just held it loosely down by his side.

  “It won’t help. You can smash the phone into a million pieces and it won’t make a difference because my friend recorded everything onto her own hard drive. Destroying the phone won’t destroy the evidence against you.”

  Willard and Bobby exchanged a long look and I said another silent prayer, asking for courage. “So,” I continued, “you can either go to court facing only drug charges, or drug charges and assault….or murder, or whatever you’re planning to do to keep me quiet. And since keeping me quiet isn’t going to keep you out of jail, I’d stick with just the drug charges if I were you.”

  I waited for his response. I was quaking with fear on the inside, but all Willard and Bobby saw was cool confidence, which only a higher power could accomplish. Thank you, God.

  “Is she bluffing, Willy?” Bobby asked, his voice even higher than usual.

  Willard ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. “Prove it,” he bit out. “Show me your phone.”

  “But if the cops are already comin’ we need to get outta here,” Bobby said nervously. “If we go out the back way we can beat ’em.”

  “Prove it!” Willard yelled suddenly, making me jump.

  I unzipped my coat and took my phone from my front jeans pocket. The screen was blank and didn’t respond when I tried to wake it. I gave a sigh of relief. Ava was still in control, still recording.

  “Ava, if you’re there, can you do something to show Willard that you have everything you need to get him arrested, so he knows anything he does to me is only going to make things worse?”

  I stared at the screen, waiting for a text. Five seconds, then ten. Then Ava’s voice broke the tense silence.

  “Sorry for the delay, it took me a bit to patch in without stopping the recording.” Then a fake-cheerful, “How’re you doing, guys? Willard Tusk, right? And Bobby Johnson? Pretty sure I have the names right. So what kind of proof do you want? I can play back the audio recording I have of the last fifteen minutes if you like, or you can just trust me when I say the sheriff’s deputies who are heading your way are going to be real interested in it. It’s more than enough to get you two locked up, and like my friend said, anything you do from here on out is only going to add to the time you’re going to serve. So your best bet is to let her go and use that gesture of goodwill to try to talk the judge into being lenient.”

  Bobby was in a near panic now. “C’mon, Willy. We hafta get outta here. She’s already called the cops.”

  Willard’s eyes cut to what he could see of the lane, as if he expected a police car to show up any second. When his gaze returned to me, I shivered at the cold fury I saw there.

  “Go get the cash from inside, Bobby,” he said, his voice scarily quiet. “And grab all the product we have packaged up.”

  Bobby took off running toward the front of the cabin as Willard’s hand darted out and grabbed the phone from me. I didn’t even have time to protest before he tossed it out into the grass, raised his gun, and shot it.

  I jerked and pressed back against the cabin, staring at what was left.

  “That’ll take care of your friend recording anything else,” he said, a nasty smile curving his lips as he looked at me and gestured with the gun. “Let’s go.”

  I felt my eyes widen. He wanted me to go with them? I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Surely he wasn’t stupid enough to take me as a hostage and thus dig an even deeper hole for himself.

  He raised the gun and waved it in the direction Bobby had run. “Move,” he said harshly. “Now.”

  “It’s not going to help you to have a hostage, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said. “It’s only going to—”

  “I said move!” he shouted, not caring about my warning.

  When I still just stood there, not because I was defiant but because I was terrified, he closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm, pulling me along behind him. As his fingers dug painfully into my flesh, my mind cleared and I knew I had to get away now, no matter what. Getting into a car with them would be a death sentence.

  In that moment of clarity, I also realized that right now was the time. With Bobby occupied, this was the only chance I’d have to escape with only one man to elude instead of two. Yes, Willard had a gun, but if I played it right…

  I let him pull me a few steps, then pretended to stumble, calling out in pain as I went down.

  “Wait, wait, ahhhh, my ankle,” I wailed.

  He lost his balance when I went down, making it easier to pull out of his grip. His momentum carried him forward and he raised his hand to catch himself against the side of the cabin. His gun hand. I seized the opportunity, leapt back to my feet in a flash, and slammed my right foot hard into the side of his knee. As hard as I could. Hard enough to make it buckle inward in a way no knee was supposed to move, and hard enough to make him roar with pain and grab for it with both hands, dropping the gun.

  I wanted to go for the weapon, but he fell right on it and I didn’t want to risk fighting him for it, even with his injury. He yelled for Bobby and I bolted, heading in a straight line for the woods. If I’d thought I was running in slow motion before, now I felt like my feet were sticking in a foot of mud. I was going fast, I knew that in my head, but it felt like forever before I covered that twenty feet. Just as I hit the tree line the gun went off and a bullet blew off a strip of bark on the tree in front of me, just over my head.

  I had to slow down to make my way through the trees, but not much. I dodged and darted, wincing as the gun went off again. This time I didn’t know where the bullet went, but it would be almost impossible to hit me now that I was safely in the dense woods.

  Then I heard Willard yelling. “Go after her, Bobby. If we’re goin’ down, she’s gonna pay the price.”

  My stomach clenched as my legs kept pumping. I might be safe from Willard’s bullets, but not from Bobby. Had he seen where I’d gone into the woods? Should I keep going in the straight line I’d chosen or veer off? Could I climb a tree and hide? Maybe find a cave or something? How good was Bobby at tracking?

  I cycled through my options as
I ran, unable to hear anything above my own footsteps and harsh breathing. Was he coming after me? Getting closer? I didn’t want to stop long enough to find out.

  As I got deeper into the woods it was harder going. The undergrowth was thick and my feet got caught up in it several times, sending me sprawling. Each time I got up, thankfully unhurt. But my energy was waning quickly.

  Eventually I had no choice but to stop to rest and try to get my bearings. I had no idea how far I’d gone, but when my breathing finally slowed I gratefully realized there were no sounds of pursuit. Actually, there were no sounds at all. When I looked up I could see the treetops waving in what must be a light wind, but I couldn’t hear the rustle of the leaves from where I stood. Just blessed silence.

  I looked around, trying to come up with a plan. My gaze landed on two large trees growing close together, all but touching. It would make for a good place to hide and watch, so I tucked myself in behind the fat trunks, facing the direction I’d come from, peering through the small crack between them.

  As the minutes passed with no sign of Bobby, my fear eased and logic returned.

  I soon realized there was a good chance he’d only chased me for a little way, if at all. I’d had too much of a head start, and if he believed Ava when she said the cops were on the way, there was no time to waste tracking me. Plus, the injured Willard was a sitting duck in the backyard. Their only hope was to escape—without their hostage.

  Just to be one hundred percent sure, I waited and watched for another fifteen minutes. Then I stood up and turned in a slow circle, taking in my surroundings and swiftly coming to the stark realization that I’d traded one big problem for another.

  In the whole time I’d been running in a panic through the woods—fifteen or twenty minutes was my guess—I hadn’t seen a single cabin or road, or even a trail. And I certainly hadn’t taken the time to memorize landmarks as I ran my haphazard route through the trees, concerned only about putting distance between myself and Bobby.

  The result was that I was in a completely uninhabited area of the forest, and there was no way I could find my way back to the cabin.

  I took a deep breath, holding the panic at bay, and shook out my legs which were stiff from first running and then crouching for so long. I became aware of how thirsty I was, having had nothing to drink since my coffee that morning. I was hungry too, but that was manageable. Water was what I needed most.

  There were small creeks in the woods—I knew that because I’d jumped over a number of them. Was it safe to drink from mountain streams? They looked so clear and inviting, but they were also where animals hung out and I knew enough about parasites to be wary. If I got desperate, however, I’d probably give it a try.

  I began walking the way I’d come, but pretty soon I no longer knew my path. Everything looked the same. I looked for broken twigs and disturbed pine needles, but I wasn’t a tracker. I had absolutely no idea where I was or where to go.

  Common wisdom says that when you’re lost you should stay put and wait to be found. I wanted to do the wise thing, but it was unbelievably hard to do nothing. All I could think was what if there’s a cabin or a road just over that rise? Or over the next one?

  I walked a little farther and saw a clearing through the trees. I hadn’t passed through there on my wild run so it gave me no clues, but I could see bright afternoon sunlight hitting the grass and weeds, promising warmth. Now that I wasn’t running, I felt chilled enough for it to look inviting. It would also be as good a place as any to wait to be found.

  I made my way there, lifted my face to the sunbeams for a minute, then sank down on the grass, hugging my knees to my chest and resting my cheek on them. Now what?

  I was in a tough spot and had no one to blame but myself. I’d been overly confident and had vastly underestimated the danger. Now JP, Ava, and Jude were no doubt worried sick and I hated that. The sheriff would have to form a search party for me and I hated that, too.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t take much of their time. They had experience finding people lost in the woods, right? And I certainly hadn’t been trying to cover my tracks. With any luck they’d find me before it was necessary to call my parents and tell them I was missing.

  I closed my eyes and lay back on the grass, letting the sun hit my face again. Inevitably, my mind went back to the cabin. To the stink of the cooking meth and the terror of coming face to face with Willard. And worst of all, to when Willard had accused Haley of drugging JP.

  Emotion clogged my throat and tears squeezed through my closed lids, tracking down my temples into my hair. Guilt clawed at me. The man I’d loved with my whole heart and soul had been drugged into a stupor and assaulted when he was helpless, and I’d left him because of it.

  Left him when I should have trusted him.

  ***

  When the sun went behind a bank of clouds, I shivered and curled into a ball. I knew the chill was only a hint of what would come when afternoon turned to evening—but I reassured myself that I didn’t need to worry about it. I’d be long gone by the time the sun went down. Any minute I’d hear the voices of the search party…any minute.

  I curled tighter, another shiver going through me. Without the warm sun I was more aware of the hard, lumpy ground and the oppressive silence. Any minute…any minute…

  My longing for JP was almost painful. What I wouldn’t give to be safe and warm in his arms. To rest my head on his chest and hear his strong heart beating. To tell him how much I loved him. To apologize for my poor judgment and beg him to forgive me.

  I sighed and sat up. I strained my ears for voices calling my name. Any minute…

  But not this minute. Or the next or the next.

  The sun came back out but it wasn’t enough to lighten my mood. My head was aching from hunger and dehydration and I decided to find a stream. Medicine could take care of any potential parasites, right?

  I stood and stretched, wrinkling my nose when I got a whiff of something acrid. It smelled like smoke. Not strong, just a touch of it in the air. I sniffed a few more times, scanning the sky. I didn’t see a plume or even a haze, but it was definitely smoke I smelled. Which was strange because this certainly wasn’t forest fire season.

  Unless…wait. No way. That couldn’t be it. Surely Willard wouldn’t try to get rid of evidence by burning down the cabin. Or would he? Would a fire burn hot enough to destroy the paraphernalia of a meth-cooking lab? Had they set the fire and then fled—is that why Bobby hadn’t come after me?

  My stomach dropped as I considered that scenario. If it was true, JP and the others would assume I was either in the burning cabin or with the men who’d escaped. That’s what they’d be focusing on. It could be a long time before they figured out that I’d run off into the woods and gotten lost.

  I paced the circumference of the clearing, twisting my hands together just as my thoughts were twisting—here, there, and everywhere. I was convinced JP thought I was either dead or kidnapped. Knowing what I was putting him and the others through was devastating, and it was all because I’d tried to play the hero and single-handedly get Haley out of our lives. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  There would be no searchers coming for me. I had to find my way back somehow, had to show JP I was fine. Maybe if I could figure out which way the smoke was coming from I’d have some idea of where to go. That idea gave me a brief flare of hope, which soon died. I was surrounded by huge trees, and short of making my way up the mountain slope in the distance to get some height, there was no way I’d be able to see the origin of the smoke. And I wouldn’t be able to make it up the slope before the sun went down.

  I pulled a fistful of grass and threw it up in the air, watching it blow straight back over my head. It wasn’t an exact science, but I figured if the wind was blowing the smoke toward me, where I could smell it, it had to be coming from the direction I was facing.

  With no better ideas, I began walking that way, doing my best not to get turned around. My whole premise was based on the
assumption that the fire was the meth cabin burning, and if I followed the smoke smell I’d make it back there. It wasn’t much to go on, but I had nothing else. And staying in place until I was found didn’t seem to be such a good idea now that I was pretty sure no one was looking for me.

  I prayed as I walked. I thanked God for helping me get away from Willard, and I asked Him to lead me to a place where I could get help. Preferably before I had to spend a cold February night alone in a strange, dark forest.

  My longing for JP surged again. I pictured us lying on his couch, my back pressed tight to his front, his arm thrown across my waist, holding me there. Safe and warm. With Lily sleeping peacefully in her bed and a flickering fire beside us.

  It would happen. I had to believe that.

  I kept walking, paying close attention to my surroundings. The last thing I needed was to go in a big circle, walking for miles only to end up back at my clearing.

  The sun was once again obscured by thick clouds, so I couldn’t use it as a guide. My best guess was that it was three in the afternoon. It would be dark in another three hours. Maybe less than that here in the woods. I kept going, doing my very best to stay in a relatively straight line, constantly looking through the trees, hoping more desperately with every passing minute to see the lines of a cabin roof.

  I walked a long way, longer than I’d run I was sure, which meant I hadn’t taken the same route. No big surprise since I was totally winging it. The smell of smoke had grown stronger for a while, then it was gone. Whatever had burned hadn’t lasted long.

  I stopped walking when I got to a fairly large creek. I’d seen no sign of civilization and now I was back to thinking I should have stayed in the clearing. Had my grass in the wind test steered me even deeper into the woods than I’d been before?

  The wind in the trees grew stronger and I shuddered. I was very much afraid my need to do something other than sit and wait had caused me to make yet another poor decision. A night in the forest appeared inevitable now, but before I could find a place to hole up and lick my wounds, I had one more decision to make.