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Out of nowhere, her face comes into my mind, leaning out the window, calling me an asshole for walking out on her.
My feet slip and catch at the edge of the trail. Stones crumble away, falling and scattering, the noise fading fast. I pump harder, pushing to beat my best time.
I’ve got to stop doing this. Got to stop thinking about her all the time. I did the right thing getting out of there. She’d only have gotten hurt if I stayed any longer. She’d have seen how dead I am inside. I couldn’t handle the way she would have looked at me if she found out the truth. Anger I can handle. Pity and contempt? Not so much. I did the right thing. End of story.
I don’t look left. I don’t look right. My heart is steady as I keep moving up. I glance at my watch fifty feet from the top. Pulse rate a hundred and ten. Will it ever get any higher?
I try moving my feet wider. They slide in the dirt, almost skidding off either side of the trail with every motion of my body. Still one ten. Imminent death still does nothing to my pulse. They trained me well for this life.
I push harder, sprinting the last section, sweat pouring down my face, the sun relentless, not a cloud in the sky, no hint of breeze to cool me down.
I left my water far behind in the car. The threat of dehydration is real, but I need that threat. I need the pressure to keep me on edge, to stop me from getting complacent when I train.
Ten feet to go. I let out a grunt as I almost lost my footing, sliding to the left, gravity trying to yank me to my death. With an almighty effort, I leap forward and catch my hands on the edge of the promontory, hoisting myself up and over until I’m standing clear, looking back down at the scrub covered valley below.
Ten miles from the car. Twenty miles beyond that to the asphalt of route nine. I’m in the middle of nowhere. Not a soul to be seen.
No one could sneak up on me in a place like this. They’d have to climb the same way, leave a trail for me to follow. Otherwise, the way to the top is over a sheer cliff with a hideous overhang. So why do I feel like someone’s up here with me?
I catch my breath, pulse already coming down to eighty.
I wipe sweat from my face and the back of my hand touches my lips. Instantly, I’m back in her bedroom. The thoughts are gone. I cannot go there. I never should have gone there. I fucked up big time that night. Left a witness who could identify me all too easily.
It won’t happen again.
“Good to see you’re still in shape.”
I spin around and Imelda is standing there eating an ice cream, like she’s in the middle of a city park.
She’s looking older than last time I saw her in person, wrinkles settling in to the corners of her eyes. Her dark curly hair is flecked with gray. She’s wearing a pastel business suit despite the heat, but she doesn’t appear to be sweating. “How’ve you been, Jack?”
“You got a cooler out of sight for the ice cream and the chopper set you down when you saw where I was headed. I’m not impressed, Imelda.”
“Shit,” she says, breaking out in a smile. “And I thought I was doing some Mission Impossible shit right here, popping up out of nowhere.” She sits down on the nearest rock. “Do you have to be so relentlessly on all the time?”
“You trained me,” I reply, sitting opposite her, wiping the sweat from my eyes as it stings and blurs my vision for a moment. “What do you expect?”
“Don’t remind me. Most stubborn student I ever had.”
I give her a look and she balks. “Sorry,” she says, looking like she means it for once. “Forgot.”
“I wish I had the luxury. What do you want, Imelda?”
She pulls a pair of glasses out from her handbag. “Turned sixty last week,” she says, reaching in and rummaging out an envelope. “You didn’t even send me a card.”
“You’re my boss. We hate each other, remember?”
“You love me really, Jack. Without me, where would you be?”
“Happy. Retired. Left alone, maybe?”
“All that is to come soon enough. For now, here’s the next one.” She hands me the envelope. “Good work on Malcolm Firenze, by the way. Leaving him under the wedding gifts was a pleasant touch.”
“Any problems?”
“You expecting any?”
“Worth checking.”
