Stutter Creek (16 page)

It was a moment before he spoke. “I guess I did.” He seemed truly perplexed. “I never thought of it that way. I mean, I never thought I’d be missed.”

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Did you marry?” he asked.

Speaking at the same time, they laughed self-consciously. Around them, the woods clicked and rustled back to life. Overhead, the swaying pines soughed gently in the slight breeze. Nearby, a squirrel chattered and then disappeared into a dark spot high up in the fork of limbs.

When they reached her cabin, they sat on the porch and she told him an abbreviated version of her life. She described, in loving detail, her daughter and new son-in-law. She also told him about the wonderful relationship her dad had enjoyed with Abby, the wonderful camping trips and sports activities, how she and her dad had delighted in showing Abby all their favorite places in and around Stutter Creek; and then her voice faltered.

“I’m not hearing much about Abby’s father,” John prodded, eyes kind.

Haltingly, Beth gave him the story on her marriage to Sam. With a hitch in her voice, she admitted how he had let her down, and how it had made her feel. “I never really doubted myself before, you know? Now, well . . .” She let the fall of her hair hide the rising heat in her cheeks. She wished she hadn’t said that. It was too close to the bone. She’d never even admitted those feelings to Cindy.

John felt anger rising in his chest. How could anyone be so cruel to someone they were supposed to love?

Beth shook her head. “I thought he was a good man. How could I have been so wrong?” She glanced at John’s face. “I thought we were in the home stretch.” She laughed bitterly. “I was actually looking forward to early retirement. I thought I would be working on that novel I’ve been toying with for so long.”

John was quiet, unnerved. In his mind, he had prepared himself to accept that she was a married woman, not a divorcee. He just couldn’t fathom anyone voluntarily giving up on a relationship with the woman he had fantasized about for so long.

“Maybe it was just me, or something I did.” Beth’s expression was thoughtful. “You know, he never really understood my desire to write. When I won contests for fiction back in college, he always patted me on the back and then encouraged me to finish my teaching degree. Just like a parent, you know. Something to fall back on.” She took a deep breath. “But he wasn’t anything like my dad. I think he might even have been a little jealous . . . although I didn’t find that out until we divorced. But he was a very good father to Abby, up until—oh never mind. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. After all this time, what must you be thinking?” She was obviously flustered, embarrassed by her intimacy.

He was quiet for so long that Beth began to think all kinds of awful things. The porch felt suddenly small, cloying. Crickets chirruped; the shadows lengthened. It had been so many years. She didn’t really know him. How could she have blurted out her entire sordid story? Such an idiot!

Finally, John stretched his long legs and leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Sounds like a real ass. Want me to make him disappear? I can do that you know.”

Beth gasped. Then she realized he was only joking. “Only if you guarantee it will be slow and extremely painful,” she replied.

He guffawed.

She was thankful that he didn’t push her for details or offer false sympathy for something she really shouldn’t have blurted out so readily. Encouraged, she changed the topic: “But what about you? Have you got someone up there at the cabin wondering what is taking you so long?”

John looked away. Now it was his turn to feel embarrassed. Dare he tell her why he had never married? Not yet, his common sense whispered; she’s been through so much, no need to add to the burden. “No wife, no partner at all,” he said. “Just me and Turk.” He turned half toward her. “The job, you know; travelling the world. No time for romance . . .”

He was aware of how pompous he had sounded. “What I meant to say was that my years in the Army gave me a terminal case of wanderlust.” He then offered her a simplistic version of what his career had entailed: early years in the Army learning how to defend both himself and others, going into private security, working for different multi-billion dollar companies always operating in war-torn countries. Constantly moving around, socking his money away, and eventually, dreaming of the little cabin in the woods. “When Turk was injured, something just hit me. I know he’s just a dog—”

“Don’t listen, Turk,” Beth covered his furry ears with her hands.

“—but for some reason, the look in his eyes, the way he needed me that day. It made me realize it could just as easily have been me.” His voice faded. “Except there would’ve been no one to look after me. To worry about me while I healed.” He looked at her then. “No one but Turk.” He slapped both palms down on his thighs. “That’s it. That’s my life.” He shrugged and held out his hands as if to indicate there was no more left to say.

Beth nodded, shocked and surprised that there wasn’t a wife or a special someone in his life. Not even an ex-wife, apparently. Was he being truthful? Or had she hit a nerve, asking about his romantic life? “So now you’re retired?”

“Yep,” he was obviously relieved when she didn’t question his marital status further. “Looking forward to fixing up the cabin, planting a little vegetable garden . . . just breathing easy for awhile.”

Beth nodded. “Sounds like a good plan.” She ran her hands down Turk’s back and shoulders. “But someday I want to hear the whole story of these awful scars.” She felt very forward saying that, like she was forcing him to come back again, like a second date or something.

“How about tomorrow?” he suggested. “I think we’ve actually got a lot of catching up to do.”

Unable to speak, all Beth could do was bob her head up and down like a chick pecking for grain.

“A picnic,” John continued, standing. “I’ll be here before lunch. Got a new ice chest and a brand new bill of groceries; bound to be some picnic stuff in there somewhere.” He hesitated. “You do still like to hike, don’t you?”

More head bobbing. “Yes, of course.” Her breath was so shallow her voice cracked. “What do I need to do?”

“Not one thing.” He laughed. “Let me handle everything.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head as though she were still a little girl.

He wanted to do more; he was so thrilled to find her there, he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and whirl madly around and around in a circle the way they had done that summer, holding hands and whirling like idiots to see who would get drunk and fall over first, laughing and throwing leaves and twigs at each other in mad made-up-on-the-spur-of-the-moment games of crazy tag—if I hit you with anything at all, you’re it! They had really brought out the kid in each other, no doubt about it. Yet the news of her father’s death hit him hard. The man should have had twenty or thirty more years. Suddenly it occurred to John that, in the back of his mind, he had always considered Beth and her dad to be kind of like his defacto family.

But the question was . . . did she feel the same? He was amazed to hear that she had continued to look for him. Why had he never considered the possibility that she might feel the same way he did when she got older?
Because I never had anyone to confide in. Because I never felt worthy of a family like that. Always assumed I was some kind of weirdo falling for a young girl like that.
But now, four years age difference was nothing. And look at all the years that had gone by . . . nope, best not to look. Besides, things always happen for a reason. Come to think of it, that had been her dad’s philosophy. And John had taken it to heart all those years ago. He certainly wasn’t going to start doubting it now.

With his head clouding with possibilities, senses on overload, John turned, and with a short whistle to Turk, was gone.

Beth floated through the cabin door as if in a dream. Had his lips lingered on her hair? She thought they had. She thought about pinching herself, but that seemed ridiculous. It was John. It really was. He even seemed the same as when they were teens. Was that possible? Look how much I’ve changed, she thought. Deep down, I’m still the same old me. But the exterior . . .

She ran both hands through her hair and walked into the bathroom to examine her reflection in the mirror. She felt self-aware for the first time in months, as though she had found a part of herself that had been missing. But were these just “rebound” feelings? Sam had hurt her so badly. What if John wasn’t what he seemed either? Her mind wanted to pursue that avenue but her heart did not: I won’t spoil it yet, she thought, not yet. See where it goes, see where this path leads.

She plopped down on the bed and sent Abby a long, rambling text message. She didn’t have any idea when, or if, it would go through, but she had to tell someone how alive she felt. She was careful not to mention how she had longed for and searched for John during her teen years; she simply told her daughter that she had met up with an old friend and things felt brighter than they had in months.

Chapter Nineteen

Allie hugged her aunt and practically danced out to the car. Now that she had a plan, she was really looking forward to an afternoon of shopping, then maybe some pizza, or even a movie. She was so excited. When she had relayed the idea to Ginger, it had been all systems go.

She hurried to the car. In her mind, she was already trying on bathing suits and shorts. The Chevy Lumina was nice and warm after sitting in the sun all morning. Once inside, Allie started the engine, clipped on her seat belt, turned down the volume on the radio—why did it always seem so much louder when you got back in the car than when you got out?—slid her shades up on her nose, and backed out.

She was only about a mile out of town when he spoke.

“Pull over.” His voice was rough.

Allie’s eyes immediately sought the rearview mirror. She was horrified to see the disheveled countenance of the man she’d seen studying the Missing Poster this morning. Her first thought was that today would have been a good day to start locking the car—even if no one else in Stutter Creek did. The second thought was, is this some kind of a prank? She immediately thought of Ginger. Was this one of Ginger’s friends from college or something?

“I said pull off the road you stupid bitch!” The voice was guttural, like a dull, serrated knife. Without another word, he slapped a length of Danny’s cord around her neck and yanked backward.

In the time it took her to register that it was not a joke, Allie was inhaling what seemed to be her last breath. Her feet kicked out reflexively as her hands left the steering wheel and flew to her throat, fingernails digging into her own flesh as she fought to get a grip on the thin nylon cord cutting off her air. Just as it seemed she was destined to lose the battle, her right foot shot forward and smashed down on the accelerator. The instant acceleration caused Kurt to fall backward, jerking the cord even tighter.

Allie’s world was almost completely black when she suddenly had the presence of mind to let off the gas and crush both feet down on the brake. Forward momentum abruptly halted, Allie’s seat belt locked across her chest like a monstrous, rib-breaking hug. Kurt, teetering on the edge of the backseat, flew through the air past her head and smashed into the windshield. The safety glass cracked but did not break.

None of this registered on Allie’s oxygen deprived brain. Her body was in pure survival mode. Adrenalin pulsed through her veins with each terrified hammer-blow of her heart. All she could think of was getting rid of the thing cutting into her throat.

Her clawing fingers finally grasped the cord that had been pulled from Kurt’s hand. She whipped it off her neck, giving herself a stinging friction burn, but she didn’t feel it. She could breathe again! Yanking the seatbelt buckle loose, Allie was out and running before she even realized she’d opened the door. Her mind was a blank white page. Her only thought: live!

Kurt sat up and shook his head. He had been temporarily stunned, but everything was coming back to him now. She was getting away. The little blonde slut, number three on his list, was getting away. He couldn’t believe it. The first two victims had been so easy. Now this, on top of the fiasco with the woman in the Camaro . . . what had happened to Fate?

He slid beneath the steering wheel and took aim at the fleeing girl. “It ain’t going down like this,” he muttered, stepping on the gas.

Behind her, Allie heard the sound of her Uncle’s old Chevy. Her fight or flight instinct was not over, not by a long shot. Without even thinking, running completely on reflex, she veered off the road and into the forest, her fists pumping, long legs skimming fallen logs and small deadfalls. She knew these woods fairly well. In the time she’d been staying with her aunt and uncle, she and her friends had roamed them freely. Two miles from here was the lake where they roasted marshmallows and played chicken in the water; a few miles past there was Ginger’s parent’s house. But before that, there was a cave. She and Ginger had explored it more than once with Ginger’s dad.

Kurt drove along the road watching her carefully, looking for an opening. Shouldn’t have varied the plan, he thought. This is what happens when you just react to circumstance instead of following the plan. He had intended to lure Allie to the side of the road on her way home from work in the evening using Danny, just like the others. But Danny was useless now. He couldn’t even stand up.

Truthfully, he had been so intrigued by the idea of taking the girl in broad daylight, right out from under the Missing Girl poster, that he just hadn’t been able to pass it up. Seeing evidence of his handiwork displayed in public like that had excited him tremendously. He’d gotten cocky again. Just like with the woman in the Camaro. He’d actually attributed the coincidence of seeing the drugstore girl park the unlocked car behind the drugstore to Fate, again. Big mistake. Now look what had happened.