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Her pulse speeding, Rachel pressed her cell phone to her ear. “Stay on the phone with me. I’ll go next door and see if my neighbor can call 911 for you.”
“Don’t hang up,” her sister’s voice shook.
Wishing she was there with Lindsay, Rachel could only do her best to get someone else to help. Someone closer to her sister in Colorado. “I’m not going to hang up.” Rachel walked out the front door of her apartment, leaving the door unlocked. She walked to the next apartment and knocked sharply on the door. “Still with me?”
“Yes,” Lindsay whispered. “I think he’s getting closer. I just rounded a rocky bluff. I can’t see on the other side, but I hear footsteps and the sound of gravel sliding over the edge.”
“Drop a pin on your location and send it to me so I can send it to the authorities.”
“I’ll have to stop moving.”
For a moment, Rachel heard nothing. “Lindsay?”
“There. I sent my location,” Lindsay finally said, her voice so soft, Rachel could barely make out her words.
Rachel’s cell phone gave the electronic sound of an incoming message. “Got it,” she said, staring down at the pin on a map. “Be ready to snap a picture of the guy. It might make him think twice about doing anything stupid.”
“I’m scared,” Lindsay whispered.
“I'm with you, sweetie.” Rachel knocked on the door again. “You know I love you.”
“I haven’t always said it, but I love you, too.”
“Hang in there,” Rachel said and moved on to the next apartment. “I have to try another door.”
“Shh,” Lindsay said. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I hear him. He’s running toward me.”
Rachel’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Find a stick or a rock, something to use as a weapon.”
“I have a rock. I can’t outrun him. I’m going to turn and stand my ground.”
“Be ready to Snap a photo of him and text it to me.”
“Sweet Jesus, help me,” Lindsay said, her voice farther away as if she held the phone away from her mouth.
Rachel pounded on the next door. “Please, I need help,” she called out.
“He’s here,” Lindsay said. “Why are you following me?”
“Because you’re mine,” a voice said. It wasn’t deep and resonant, but a kind of medium tone with no hint of an accent.
“No,” Lindsay said. “I’m not yours. I don’t even know you. So, move aside so I can get down off this trail.”
The door in front of Rachel opened, and a man with scraggly gray hair scowled at her. “What do you want?”
“I need you to call 911.”
His scowl deepened. “Why? You got a phone. Call them yourself.”
“I'm on the phone with my sister. Someone is attacking her right now. I need you to help her.” Rachel stared up at the man. “Please.”
“Fine.” He tipped his head toward his living room. “I’ll call, but you’ll have to do the talking. I don’t know what you got going on.”
Rachel clutched the phone to her ear. “Lindsay, if he attacks, you fight him with everything you’ve got.”
“You shouldn’t have run,” the man’s voice said over the phone.
“Run? You’re creeping me out. You shouldn’t be following me. I have a right to be on this trail. Get out of my way.”
