Page 32 of Glimmer in the Darkness

This could be the end of all of it. Ten years of running could end with a single phone call from James to the Coventry PD. When he’d called that morning and said he’d pick her up for the trek up Mt. Ayasha, she’d wanted to refuse to share the address of the cabin she’d rented. But this was James. Her James. He wouldn’t betray her.

He hadn’t yet.

Lord, please, please…

Cassidy stared out the front window of the dingy cabin. Either James would show up or a whole bunch of cops would. She wished she knew him like she had in high school. She wished she could guess what he’d do.

God had this all in His hand. The question was, what was He going to do with it?

She could take off, disappear, and never return. But… Ella.

The thought of that little girl, all alone, kept her rooted to the scratched linoleum floors, staring at the window, willing James to arrive.

She’d collected some clothes and toiletries in the only backpack she owned, just in case James decided to come. Just in case they’d spend the night on the mountain. Her backpack wasn’t large enough for a sleeping bag, but that wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she’d sleep.

A glance at her watch told her it was six-fifty.

Two minutes later, his old Jeep turned into the driveway and parked. She shoved a credit card and her keys in her jeans’ pocket—always prepared to run, just in case—and jogged outside, still half-expecting to see cops squeal in behind him. But the morning was quiet and peaceful.

Backpack in hand, she made her way toward him.

He stepped onto the gravel driveway. “That all you have?” he asked, nodding to her small pack.

“I wasn’t sure what I needed.”

She barely caught his smirk before he rounded the Jeep and opened the tailgate.

She peeked through the Jeep’s windows. She’d spent a lot of time in its passenger seat in high school, and she let the memories fill her now, hoped to get past them. This would be weird enough without their past as an awkward third passenger.

James hefted a huge backpack from the Jeep, the kind… Well, the kind backpackers wore. “Turn around. Let’s get it fit right.”

“Whose is it?”

“Mine.”

He owned two backpacks, one sized for a woman? Perhaps this had belonged to James’s mother, and he hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

James’s had always been an outdoorsy family. Did things like backpacking and camping and hiking together all the time. As she slipped the backpack on, she wondered if Mrs. Sullivan had ever gone backpacking or camping after Hallie’s death.

“How’s it feel?”

“Strangely comfortable,” she said.

“I added some necessities.” He adjusted a few straps, then tugged on the back. “Think you can handle that?”

The backpack, no problem. Going back up to the mountain—that was a different story.

She emptied the contents of her little backpack into the larger one. Already in there were a sleeping bag, a small pillow, and a fleece sweatshirt. Apparently, he’d assumed she hadn’t brought anything warm enough. She did have a sweatshirt but conceded that the fleece would be better. There were also a few other things she didn’t recognize, backpacking accessories, no doubt.

“Where’s your knife?” he asked.

She looked up from where she crouched beside the packs. “What do you mean?”

“You have to have a hunting knife.”

“For what?”

He shook his head. “Just… lots of things. What if you need to skin an animal? Or a fish? Or you need firewood or to make a sharp point on a limb for—”