Page 6 of Glimmer in the Darkness

Now, the feeling pushed her off the trail and into the woods.

Should she hide? She looked around for a place to take cover. A downed tree, a large rock? All she saw were thin trees and overgrown shrubs.

She was too vulnerable.

Picking her way through the underbrush, she tried to gauge where she was. She’d traveled most of the way down, hadn’t she? She should be near the base. The campground. Safety.

She crept forward, away from the trail, as quietly as she could.

The feeling that she was being followed only intensified. And… the sound of heavy footsteps on the path. Someone was there. At least she wasn’t crazy. Small comfort.

The man—she was sure it was a man—was closing in.

A branch snapped, too close.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, set her hands trembling and reaching for her Glock. But she didn’t pull it out. Better to get away. She felt as if she were in a nightmare, frozen by sleep, trying to scream, trying to wake herself up. Her lungs and vocal cords wouldn’t obey.

But her legs weren’t paralyzed. She pushed herself faster, ignoring the branches that slapped her in the face and thighs.

Past bushes, around trees, she kept on, trying to keep barriers between her and the path above.

Through the thick underbrush, she saw a flash of white. Was it James’s house, the place that had been a sanctuary to her so many times? Without thinking, she broke into a run. But thorns and twigs and branches slowed her progress.

She glanced behind her and saw a flash of red not thirty yards back.

She was making too much noise. He’d find her for sure.

The memories pressed down on her, tried to immobilize her. It had been winter the last time, and the child in her care had been giggling, running ahead. Too far ahead.

This was different. She had only herself to protect now, not a sweet innocent child who’d trusted her.

The going was rough as she forced her way through the underbrush, yanking her clothes from the grip of thorns and the sticky fingers of low bushes, ignoring scrapes and gouges on her legs and arms.

The house had to be close. The trail wrapped around the mountain behind it. Surely, surely she’d reach it soon.

Hurry, hurry.

She pushed past a bush, ducking beneath a dead and leafless limb. On the other side, her foot landed in a depression and she stumbled, almost fell. Twisted her ankle, but not badly.

Glanced behind.

Still, a flash of red.

Ahead, there was a brightening, perhaps a break in the forest, or…

The white siding of James’s house. Then she saw the roof, the wood deck off the back, the windows reflecting the orange-and-pink sky.

Finally, she left the woods and landed on soft grass. She rushed across the backyard, only realizing then that it probably wasn’t James’s property anymore at all. His parents had lived here, and he was an adult now. Surely he’d moved on. And anyway, after Hallie’s death, they’d likely sold this old place. Who’d want to live with those memories?

She rounded the structure on the far side, away from the man following her. If someone had been following her. It was entirely possible she’d gone crazy, that her treks through the woods were messing with her mind.

At least she’d be relatively anonymous to whoever lived in this house now. They’d probably never heard of her, probably had no idea of her history in Coventry. But when she glimpsed the front yard, she froze.

The old red canvas-topped Jeep Wrangler, the one James had driven back in high school, was parked in the driveway, dirt caked along the side as if it had recently been off-roading. A jack held a rear tire off the ground.

She should turn around, except… She felt eyes on her. Whoever’d followed her was watching. He knew she was here. He knew who she was.

No. That couldn’t be true. She had to think clearly.