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A passing car honked and swerved, barely missing her, street water spraying beneath screeching tires.
She stumbled. Caught herself. Ran.
“Idiot!” a male with a deep voice proclaimed, rolling down the window of his white Volvo to make certain she heard.
She didn’t care. Reeling back from the street, she kept going, scrambling away.
Adrenaline propelling her, she raced between two parked cars and along the sidewalk. She didn’t quit running at the gates of the park, but sped inside. Heart in her throat, she flew along the path. At a bend in the sidewalk, she veered into the undergrowth, away from the pools of light cast by the lampposts that lit the groomed path. Crouching, breathing hard, she scrabbled into rain-drenched thickets, where trees and shrubbery were her salvation. Her skin prickled. Rain slid down her bare head and under the collar of her jacket. She barely noticed, her fear was so intense, the images of the dead bright behind her eyes.
Don’t panic.
But it was too late. Rational thought had disappeared, chased by pure terror. Was it her fault? When she’d agreed . . . ? How the hell had this happened?
She swallowed back a dose of guilt and took stock of her situation.
Ivy had played in this park as a child, knew all the hiding spots, and thought she might be safe, if just for a few minutes, long enough to catch her breath and gather her wits.
What now?
Where could she go?
Where could she hide?
Teeth chattering, body trembling, she tried and failed to dislodge the bloody images of the dead bodies from her mind. Her parents. Slaughtered in their beds. Unsuspecting. The brutality and unfairness of it all was too much and she started to cry, tears burning down her wet, cold cheeks. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she thought wildly. No, not this. Not now. Not ever.
Calm down. Just calm the hell down!
She couldn’t. Bile filled her throat. Her insides revolted. She threw up violently, the contents of her stomach emptying onto the bark dust by a thick-leaved rhododendron bush. Then again. This time bile came up and after wiping her nose and mouth with her sleeve, it was all she could do to prevent herself from dry-heaving. She scuttled backward, deeper into the bushes, distancing herself from the sour pool of vomit, creeping over rocks.
Hiding here was no good.
She’d be found soon.
Those who had killed might still be looking for her.
There was a good chance, she knew, that she was the ultimate target.
With that sizzling thought, she rimmed the park, keeping near the brick fence until she reached the far side. From her hiding spot, she had a clear view of the central fountain, lights directed at the rushing water tumbling over jagged rocks. No one stood gazing at the wet stone, no one appeared on the fringes of light.
And yet she felt the weight of someone’s gaze, someone who was hiding just like she was, someone who would think nothing of taking her life.
Get a grip. No one’s there.
Think.
Come up with a damned plan!
Her insides quivered and she nearly jumped out of her skin as the leaves rattled nearby. Biting back a scream, she scooted closer to the fence as a fat raccoon waddled from the cover of the bushes and padded around the base of a lamp near the path. She let out her breath and tried to pull her thoughts together. So far, it seemed, she hadn’t been followed. The sounds of the city surrounded her, the even rumble of engines and whine of tires as
traffic passed on the other side of the brick wall enclosing this block of greenery. Cigarette smoke drifted to her nostrils and she heard muted voices as people passed on the sidewalk on the other side of the brick barrier separating the park from the rest of San Francisco. A quiet cough. A far-off bark. In the distance a foghorn moaned. Yet no hurrying footsteps running toward the park.
Please, God . . .
Attempting to calm herself, to slow her racing heart, to force the fear back into the farthest reaches of her mind, Ivy frantically reviewed her options. She knew she had to escape. Now!
Going back to the house was out of the question.
Calling the police would be a major mistake.
