Whispers in the Dark
Page 20
I studied him quickly, needing to know exactly what I had to deal with. He held his other arm close to his stomach, with the fingers loosely curled. He must have hurt his arm or wrist.
He hadn’t said anything about the gun. If he had it, surely he’d be pointing it at me. He must have lost it when he fell.
He’d already shown that he didn’t need the gun to subdue me. But if I could get away, he might not be able to catch me. Not if he was hurt badly enough, and he’d talked about crawling up the slope, not running. He didn’t have a weapon, besides his body.
And I did.
I flexed my hand and felt the thin metal spikes. Sean glared down at me, maybe trying to make sure I was properly frightened. I stared at him with wide eyes, trying not to let my gaze flicker while my mind raced. Where to hit him? When? He was blocking my exit now, but once I pulled my hand out from the sleeping bag, he might see the stakes. I’d lose the surprise.
Sean leaned out the entrance to look around, his hand still gripping my shoulder hard enough to grind the bones together and his leg still pinning mine. He pulled on my shoulder and growled, “Get up.”
As I sat up, I slid my hand out from the sleeping bag and glanced down to make sure the stakes were pointing in the right direction. It wouldn’t do much good to stab him with the rounded loops at the tops. The pointed ends were sticking out from the pinky side of my hand, so I would need to swing my arm down at him.
Sean turned back toward me.
I swung my arm up and stabbed toward his cheek. He jerked back and raised his free hand to catch at my forearm. That slowed my blow and the metal stakes just scratched down his cheek, leaving a red line.
And yet Sean howled and fell back. I squirmed out from under his leg and crawled past him. As I glanced at him, I saw he was holding his wrist, not his face. The stakes had done little damage, but he’d blocked me with his injured wrist, and that had apparently hurt like hell.
I stumbled to my feet outside the tent. Between the adrenaline and the sore muscles, I staggered against the picnic table before I got myself under control. Then I found my footing and raced toward the visitors center, screaming for help.
Chapter 32
Could they hear me all the way over at the visitors center? Would Sean follow me or take off in the other direction?
With my mind racing over these questions, I forgot about my own injury. I got to the trees at the edge of my campsite and then my ankle gave out. I crashed to the ground, my cries for help cut off by a grunt. I rolled over and sat up, looking back at Sean. He was on his knees in the tent doorway. He grabbed the external tent frame and pulled himself up, but the poles slumped under his weight and he swayed, flailing his free arm for balance. He swore and pushed off toward me, limping badly.
Hysterical laughter bubbled in my chest. The lame chasing the lame.
But that didn’t mean I wanted him to catch me. I grabbed a small juniper beside me for balance as I scrambled to my feet. I knew I’d hurt my ankle worse if I kept running on it, but surely I could outpace Sean in his present state.
Movement caught my eye at the far side of the clearing—the Wests hurrying toward us.
Sean had almost reached me. He must have noticed my attention shift, because he glanced back at the Wests. He turned to me and said, “Just give me your car keys and I’ll go. You don’t want anyone else hurt.”
No, I didn’t. Even injured, Sean might prove a threat to the elderly couple. He might get a hostage and drag this out longer. But I didn’t trust him to take the keys and leave. He had to know he’d be better off with a hostage.
He lunged at me. I felt his arm brush past my hair as I dropped to the ground.
I grabbed a dead branch a couple of feet long. Sean took a step back but swayed on unsteady legs. I rose up on my knees and swung the branch at the leg he was favoring.
The thwack of the branch hitting his knee was almost drowned out by the loud pop of something dislocating. Sean shrieked and toppled like a bowling pin.
Robert and Lily crossed the clearing and stared down at him. I stayed on my knees, panting, still gripping the branch.
“He looks the worse for wear.” Lily sounded satisfied. “Did you do all that to him?”
“It’s less than he deserved,” Robert said.
Sean groaned and pushed himself up to sitting. He looked like a wild animal, ready to fight for survival. Would I have to hit him again?
I suddenly remembered the pepper spray. Oh, good grief, I might as well throw the stupid stuff away if I wasn’t going to use it when I needed it.
What the heck. I pulled it out of my pocket. “Stand back,” I told Lily and Robert. They did, and I saw Sean’s eyes widen as I held up the pepper spray. Before he could duck, I set it off. His scream was satisfying.
I heard footsteps coming up behind me, but I didn’t look back. Someone skidded to a stop beside me and crouched. An arm went around me.
Another person pushed into the clearing, a policeman with gun drawn. “What’s happening here?” he asked. “Is this the fugitive?”
Lily answered him as Sean writhed on the ground. I started to tremble and finally dropped the spray. Danesh pulled me close. “Are you all right?”
I leaned against him, burying my face in his shoulder. He held me as I shook. I inhaled the scent of him and focused on the feel of his arms around me. A wisp of his hair tickled my forehead. This moment was real, now. I could hold on to this.
The police officer spoke into a radio and then started to read Sean his rights. Danesh whispered, “It’s all over now. You’re safe.”
Yes. I’d done my part. Someone else could take over now. I took a deep breath and blew it out. Sean wasn’t dead, which was good for my conscience. He was captured, which was good for society. And I had proven yet again that I could keep going, no matter how tough the going got. Maybe my plans didn’t always play out like I’d hoped, but I had been able to act. And I would be able to go forward, without the past haunting me.
Danesh shifted to sit cross-legged and pulled me into his lap. I snuggled against him with a sigh. His arms tightened around me, but I felt him tremble. “You scared me,” he murmured. “We were at the rim when we heard that scream.... But I should’ve known you’d be taking care of things.” He rubbed his cheek against mine. “Have I mentioned you’re amazing?”
I leaned back enough to look into his face and smiled. “Sometimes I amaze even myself.”
“What do you need now? What do you want?”
I thought for a minute. “A couple of aspirin for my ankle. An enormous lunch. And then....” I leaned in, brushing my cheek against his. I thought we could make it. I knew now I had the strength to work through the hard times. I couldn’t be perfect. I might not always be strong enough to succeed in the short term. But I thought I could make it for the long haul.
I whispered in his ear. “And then I think I’d like to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.”
He pressed a kiss to my neck. “You’ve certainly earned your rest.” He paused as I nibbled his earlobe. “You did mean you’d spend the afternoon resting, right?”
I chuckled. “Maybe some of that, too.”
Dear Readers,
Whispers in the Dark was inspired by a visit to Hovenweep National Monument, on the Utah-Colorado border in the Four Corners area. I gave my setting a fictional name because I wanted the freedom to change details of the park and surrounding towns. Hovenweep is a Ute Indian word meaning “deserted valley,” so I chose to name my fictional site Lost Valley.
If you get the chance, try to visit Hovenweep or one of the other Ancestral Pueblo cultural sites in the Southwest, such as Chaco Culture National Historical Park (Chaco Canyon) or Mesa Verde National Park. At Hovenweep, you’ll see many of the ruins described in this story, though some names and details may be different. All characters are, of course, fictional.
I hope you’ll keep an eye out for my future books. Visit my website at www.krisbock.com to sign up
for a newsletter announcing new releases.
About The Author
Kris Bock writes action-packed romantic suspense, often involving outdoor adventures and Southwestern landscapes. Her first southwestern adventure novel was Rattled.
Praise for Rattled:
“The action never stopped .... It was adventure and romance at its best.”
“The story has it all—action, romance, danger, intrigue, lost treasure, not to mention a sizzling relationship....”
“I couldn’t put this book down. You’ll love it.”
Ordinary Women, Extraordinary Adventures
A legendary treasure hunt in the dramatic—and deadly—New Mexico desert....
The lost Victorio Peak treasure is the stuff of legends—a heretic Spanish priest’s gold mine, made richer by the spoils of bandits and an Apache raider.
When Erin, a quiet history professor, uncovers a clue that may pinpoint the lost treasure cave, she prepares for adventure. But when a hit-and-run driver nearly kills her, she realizes she’s not the only one after the treasure. And is Drew, the handsome helicopter pilot who found her bleeding in a ditch, really a hero, or one of the enemy?
Just how far will Erin go to find the treasure and discover what she’s really made of?
Buy Rattled or other Kris Bock books on Amazon.
To read the opening chapters or learn more about Kris Bock’s latest work, visit www.krisbock.com.
Ms. Bock also writes for young people under the name Chris Eboch. The Eyes of Pharaoh is a fast-paced mystery set against the exotic backdrop of ancient Egypt. In The Well of Sacrifice, a Mayan girl in ninth-century Guatemala rebels against the High Priest who sacrifices anyone challenging his power.
The Haunted series follows a brother and sister who travel with their parents’ ghost hunter TV show and try to help the ghosts. In The Ghost on the Stairs, an 1880s ghost bride haunts a Colorado hotel, waiting for her missing husband to return. The Riverboat Phantom features a steamboat pilot still trying to prevent a long-ago disaster. In The Knight in the Shadows, a Renaissance French squire protects a sword on display at a New York City museum.
Browse Chris Eboch books on Amazon.
Read excerpts at www.chriseboch.com.
Cover designer Rollin Thomas is an award-winning illustrator, author, designer, and educator. Rollin teaches writing, arts, and illustration at all levels. The cover includes photographs by Anette Romanenko, John Sfondilias, George Burba, and T1000s, from Dreamstime.
All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, contact the author through her website at www.krisbock.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32