Jimmy kept walking. I crouched, stock-still. I couldn’t stay here forever. Soon he would realize I wasn’t ahead of him. Then what would he do? Would he notice the short path to the rocks and check to see if I’d gone there? My stomach turned sick as images of what could have happened flashed in my mind. If I’d gone to my rock, I would have been trapped. Caught between a man with a knife and a hundred-foot plunge. Had that been his plan all along? To force me off the edge of some cliff so it looked like a hiking accident? Or to find a relatively deserted section of trail and stab me to death? Hiding my body in the woods somewhere to rot. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going today. It could be hours before anyone figured out I was missing.
I breathed short and shallow. Jimmy was fifty feet away from me now. The turnoff to the short path was another thirty feet or so ahead of him. I quickly weighed what few options I had.
I could head back down the blue trail the way I came, but hiking the blue in reverse would be tough. Too many steep downward inclines. No way to go fast. And when Jimmy figured out I wasn’t in front of him, he’d probably turn around to try and find me. It was too much of a gamble to try to get back to the red connector I’d passed earlier. No guarantee I could outrun him. So going back was out.
The connector ahead would lead me to the red and white trails. But any second now Jimmy would be back on the blue trail, searching for me. So my route to the connector was cut off.
Or I could wait him out. He couldn’t last much longer in this heat with no water or food and would have to go down the mountain. Surely he’d leave before dark, when the park closed. I didn’t relish the thought of spending the night out here. My clothes were cotton. Breathable, but not the best material for keeping warm. July nights weren’t cold, but eighty-something degrees was a lot cooler than it sounded when sleeping on the ground without a blanket. We still had a good five hours of daylight left. No way he’d last that long.
Or, I could bushwhack it. Head straight down the mountain offtrail. If I could make it to the red trail, I could get back to the North Trailhead where I’d started, or hike the other way to the office and find a park ranger. Or maybe someone on the trail who had a cell phone. I’d neglected to bring mine. I’d give anything to have it now.
At the moment, the last option seemed like the best. Jimmy wouldn’t expect me to leave the trail at this point. With my boots, I was better fitted to cross the gulleys and streams between here and the base of the mountain. I peeked out from behind the oak and, not seeing Jimmy, crept across the trail and into the dense forest.
The leaves were more slippery than on the man-made path. And louder. I tried to shuffle, rather than walk, hoping I’d sound more like some wild animal than an escaping hiker. I didn’t dare turn around, fearing I’d see Jimmy behind me, knife raised.
The slope quickly became steep. It wasn’t long before I fell, the hillside too angled for me to stay upright, even with my stick. I landed on my ass and slid that way for a while, until the slope leveled out a bit before a ravine. The ravine had good cover in the form of a fallen tree. I stopped, lying on my stomach behind the low tree, thankful the ditch wasn’t full of nasty water. I inhaled the scent of the moldy leaves an inch from my nose as I lay quietly and waited, listening.
Nothing that sounded like a man. I heard a few birds cawing. A tree branch somewhere cracked and fell to earth. A slight breeze rustled the leaves. That was it.
After I listened for a minute or so, I sat up. Unshouldering my pack, I unzipped it slowly, and dug out the map. I found the place on the trail where I thought I’d gone off the marked path. The trails were basically loops, each stacked on top of the other at different elevations. The blue trail was at the highest elevation. So as long as I headed down, I should run into some other trail. Or if I didn’t want to chance it, I could go west where I was pretty sure the red trail snaked near the connector I’d passed earlier.
I listened a few more minutes, making sure no one was near. Sat up, drank some water. I had a liter left. I followed the ravine west, hopping from rock to rock when I could to minimize the noise. Stopped occasionally to look around and listen. When the ravine narrowed and ended just below a sharp cliff, I turned downward again, sliding on the steep slope until I came to a clearing.
The clearing made me nervous because I was visible. I ducked back into the trees, figuring I was maybe a few hundred yards from the red trail. The topography was more level here, but I was moving quickly, and the heat and exertion were taking their toll. I felt nauseous and struggled to keep the water in my stomach. I snuck through the trees, wishing I had eyes in the back of my head, praying Jimmy and his knife wouldn’t appear any moment. I just wanted to be where there were people. Anybody.
Finally, the forest became less dense and I came upon a wide path that bore the unmistakable signs of being man-made. I stayed to the side of the trail, trying to remain hidden, until — thank God Almighty — a family of hikers came my way.
I waited until they passed, then eased out of the woods and followed them. I was totally turned around after bushwhacking my way down. I had no idea where I was, so I was surprised to see yellow blazes painted on the trees. Somehow I’d managed to find my way to the Foothills Trail. Now I just had to figure out which direction I was going.
I followed the family at a reasonable distance, listening to the three of them chat about things they’d seen on the hike. The two kids were maybe twelve and eight, both boys. The youngest one was full of questions, the father patient in his answers. They glanced behind them when they heard my steps, nodding and calling hello.
I’d hiked this trail before, most recently last fall, so after a few minutes I was able to get my bearings and knew that we were headed back toward the North Trailhead. To my car.
My legs were aching with the effort of what had become a threehour-plus hike. My clothes were streaked with dirt from lying face down in the gulley. Leaves were clinging to my socks and I was damp with sweat. I stank, and could think of nothing that would be more wonderful than safety and a cool shower.
As we approached the trailhead, I began to walk quickly, ready to get out of the woods, out of the park, and home. At the mouth of the forest was a kiosk filled with park rules, maps, and information.
Jimmy was leaning against the kiosk, breathing hard.
`
CHAPTER TWENTY
I gripped my walking stick tight, preparing to use it as a weapon if I had to. Jimmy hadn’t seen me yet. He was still a good distance away. I could see his bushy profile as he stared at my car in the nearby parking lot. The hiker father and his two sons were several feet ahead of me, and all of us were on a course to walk right past Jimmy in less than a minute. I jogged to catch up with them.
“Excuse me, sir?” I said, loudly enough to be heard by anybody within a mile of the trailhead.
The father stopped and turned. Jimmy, at the sound of my voice, stared dead at me. Keeping a peripheral eye on him, I said to the father, “Can you give me a ride to the office? I need to find a park ranger.”
Jimmy’s muddy brown eyes darted back and forth. I had about half a second to question what the hell I’d just done. Suppose Jimmy whipped out the knife and came after all of us? Had I just put this poor family at risk from a slasher?
“Sure. Is there a problem?”
The three of them wore similar quizzical looks on their faces. Jimmy, hearing my request, took off for his truck at just short of a run. I watched him go. The father, no moron, noticed and asked,“Has he been bothering you?”
“Yeah, actually.”
Jimmy’s driver-side door slammed. The truck struggled to turn over, then started. Jimmy squealed the tires as he sped out of the lot onto the road, tobacco-blue smoke spewing from the tailpipe.
I sucked in a deep breath that ended in a sigh of relief. The four of us walked toward the parked cars as the man asked, “Do you still want to report him?”
“No, he’s gone. I’ll be all right.”
Kid number one, the one who looked about twelve, cried, “Hey, he dropped something!” He sprinted toward a small black object on the ground. It was a pouch of some sort, sealed with a snap. He picked it up, opened it, and unsheathed the knife I’d seen in Jimmy’s hand earlier. The blade was shiny, four inches long, a deep groove running the length of it. The tip was very sharp.
“Whoa, cool!” the kid said.
Dad reached his side and gently eased it out of his son’s hands. “Careful, Dylan.” He turned the knife over, examining it. “It’s a Buck knife, like hunters use.” And a handy way to slash someone’s tires, I thought. Could I have been wrong about Flash?
Kid number two asked, “Can we keep it?”
“No, Austin.”
Austin gave a little “Awww,” in protest. The father offered it to me, and I took it. Feeling the weight of the handle made nausea creep into my stomach again. I was woozy.
The father said, “I think you should report this.”
I probably should, but I really didn’t want to try to explain my relationship with Jimmy to the rangers, or the police. I thought for several seconds and said, “I don’t think they could help, now that he’s gone.”
“But if he’s bothering people in the park —”
“I know who he is, and what he wants. I’ll be careful.”
The father looked at me like I was about to get a lecture. He changed his mind and asked, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. Well, just in case —” He reached a tanned hand into his back pocket and brought out his wallet. From one of the little leather pockets he extracted a business card. “Here’s my card, if you need me to talk to the cops or anything.”
“Thanks,” I took it and read it. Bob Cooper, it said. He sold surgical equipment. “And thanks for your help.”
I shook his hand and said good-bye to the boys. I unlocked my car and followed their SUV out of the park. At the main entrance I took a right and made my way to Cahaba Valley Road. To go home, I should have turned right toward the interstate, like the Coopers had, but instead I turned left. I drove toward Highway 31, then turned north. I wound my way through the combination businessresidential area known as Riverchase, driving around in what were essentially circles until I was convinced that Jimmy wasn’t following me.
Then the shakes started. And dry mouth. More nausea too. A silly, delayed reaction to my earlier fear. God, I could have been killed. My heart rate jumped to full speed again. I drank the rest of the water and willed myself to calm down. You’re safe now, I thought. But I was too scared to go home. I made my back to Highway 31 and from there to Royanne’s nearby house.
Thankfully, her minivan was in the driveway. So was Toby’s pickup truck. It was five o’clock. I parked behind the van and knocked on the front door. She opened it, and her eyes went wide.
“Christ, you’re a mess.”
I was. The sweat that had soaked my shirt was dry, but I was still smeared with dirt. I had leaves in my hair in addition to the ones clinging to my socks.
“I know.”
Royanne opened the door wide, inviting me into the cool house. I could hear the voice of Dora the Explorer coming from the TV in the living room. Royanne led me back to the kitchen where she was prepping a chicken for dinner.
“Where have you been?”
“Oak Mountain.”
“Doing what? Rolling around on the horse track?”
“Do I smell that bad?”
“You don’t smell good.”
“Thanks. Can I use your phone? And your shower? And maybe borrow an outfit?”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Roast chicken takes an hour.”
“I had a little run-in with a guy on Oak Mountain. He might be following me. I need to call Grant. We have a date tonight and I need him to pick me up here.”
“Wait. Slow down. What? What do you mean you had a run-in with a guy? What guy? Did he hurt you? Oh my God.”
My best friend was quickly escalating to full-blown panic. “I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t get a chance. Can I use the shower?”
“In a minute. Do you know what he looked like? Tell me what happened.”
I tried to explain my afternoon rationally. “Okay, I went for a hike in the park. About an hour or so into it I noticed someone following me. Someone I knew. He had a knife. I got off the trail and down the mountain, but I saw him again at the trailhead. By that time I was with some other hikers. He left, but for all I know he followed me to the park in the first place, and he could be at my house.” Damn, the trembling was starting again.
“Someone you know? Like a client?”
“Yes.”
“You should call Mac. And the police.”
“I can’t”
“Why not?
“Because.”
“Oh Lord. Here we go again.”
“It’s someone from the case I’m not supposed to be looking into.”
“You mean it was —”
“No one you know,” I said, meaning the Madisons.
“But someone from that case?”
“Yes. Now can I take a shower?”
Toby, hearing us from the other room, wandered in.“Hey, girl,” he said. He made a move to hug me — the big sweetheart always greeted me that way — but I held out my hand. “Don’t. I stink.”
“She sure does,” Royanne added.
Toby shrugged. “Okay. How long till dinner?”
“About an hour,” Royanne answered.
He asked, “You staying?”
“I can’t. I have to get cleaned up and go on a date.”
Toby smiled. “Have fun.” He poured himself a soda out of a twoliter bottle. He offered me some, which I declined, and went back to the living room to join the kids.
“You have to call the police.” Royanne picked up where we’d left off.
“No. He didn’t do anything. I don’t have anything, really, to report.”
“I’m going to get Toby to follow you home.”
“No, Grant can do it.”
“Promise me you’ll call the police if he’s at your house.”
She was in full mother hen mode, one of the things I loved about her. “Oh, I will. Don’t worry.”
Royanne slid the chicken into the oven and led me upstairs. I showered in the master bathroom, using her coconut-mango shampoo, then her blow dryer. While I styled my hair, she rummaged around in her bureau for something that would come close to fitting me. We were the same height, five foot four, but I was a size ten, and Roy was easily an eighteen or a twenty.
I waited, wrapped in a green towel, while she found a pair of denim shorts with a drawstring. “Here, try these.” I slid them on, tied them tight, and hoped they wouldn’t fall off. She tossed me a T-shirt.
BIRMINGHAM FINANCIAL, it read. YOUR HOMETOWN BANK. The whole outfit was yards too big.
“It’ll do,” Royanne said.
“I appreciate it.”
I called Grant’s cell. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I have a little problem.”
“You’re canceling our date?”
For a half-second, I considered calling tonight off. Maybe I wasn’t
up to a social occasion. But I didn’t want to inconvenience Toby by asking him to follow me home.
“No, I just need you to pick me up at a different place.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m at my best friend’s house.” I gave him directions, and he said he could be there in fifteen minutes.
I took another look at myself in the mirror. Pitiful. Royanne brought me a plastic grocery bag to put my smelly outfit in, then she and I sat on the deck and had a beer while we waited for Grant.
We chatted about the Madisons for a while, as I gave her a more detailed version of what had happened at their house on Friday night. Then, through the sliding glass door, I heard the doorbell ring. Toby answered it and le
d Grant to the deck.
I rose as he joined us and introduced him to Royanne. He shook her hand as they sized each other up. Royanne had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. I held the waistband of my shorts in a death grip.
“Have a seat,” Royanne offered. “Would you like a beer?”
I wasn’t in the mood for the verbal dissection that was about to spill forth from my friend. I knew that look on her face. Grant was in for it. “We’d better go,” I said to him.
“Okay, whatever you want.” His attention was diverted by the fact that I was wearing an outfit four sizes too big. “Is something wrong?”
“I’ll explain in the van.”
“Okay.”
I focused on Royanne. “Can I leave my car here and get it tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
She and Toby walked us out to Grant’s van, Toby chatting with Grant like they’d been friends for years. Toby was a good old boy, and had that effect on people.
` In the van, Grant asked, “So now are you going to tell me what’s up?”
“Remember on the Fourth, when I told you about the case? Michael’s case?”
“Sure.”
“Remember I said that Ashley, the little boy’s mother, had a mysterious boyfriend who showed up at the jail the day I went to see her?”
“Yeah.”
“The boyfriend was following me around Oak Mountain today with a knife.”
“Good Lord.”
“Take a left here.”
The direction I’d given was opposite from the way to my house. He didn’t question it, and turned as I asked.
“What did you do?”
“I got off the trail and lost him in the woods, until I got to the parking lot. He was there, but by that time I’d found some other hikers.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I’m afraid he may have followed me from my house. I wanted somebody with me when I went home. So I went to Royanne’s.”
“Then where are we going now?”
“I want to drive around for a minute. Make sure he’s not following me. I think I lost him before, but I want to make sure.”
“Poor thing. He really freaked you out.”
Little Lamb Lost Page 17
