Running Scared Read online

  Groaning with relief that no one was in sight, she kept her focus riveted on the island that blocked her flight from the opposite bank and quickly pushed her way through the nasty water and thick stalks of cane. This side of the river was even more rugged, and if she could fight her way farther into the wild terrain and hole up somewhere, they'd never find her.

  For perhaps twenty yards she backed away through the foul water until she found a beaver's slide down into the cane. There she pulled herself up onto the firmer bank, her eyes still searching behind her for the killers. Joey's screams had weakened into frightened whimpers, and once she was sure they couldn't see them, she dragged herself back to her feet. She staggered on, exhausted, her feet heavy as anvils with caked mud until she finally had no choice but to sink down on her knees and rest.

  “Shhh, Joey, baby, it's okay,” she got out somehow, but she realized she was sobbing and couldn't make herself stop. But she couldn't disintegrate now, couldn't give in and let the men find them. Joey was all right. He was cold and he was wet but he was okay, and he was still with her. She sat still a moment, calming him, calming herself. She was trembling all over, aching, sopping wet and filthy but she was alive. She forced herself to move again. She couldn't just sit and wait for them to cross the river.

  She kept low, her back aching as she trudged on hunched over and moving as fast as she could. Deeper and deeper into the woods she pressed on, tearing down spider webs and swatting at the tiny gnats and mosquitoes that swarmed off the forest floor and buzzed in her ears and worried her nose and mouth. Only when she was unable to see more than ten yards through the wild, overgrown forest did she feel safe enough to walk upright. Joey had quieted some but she wasn't sure how much more he could handle as she moved on, afraid to stop until every muscle, joint and bone in her body screamed for mercy. She was nearly dragging her injured leg now, but she had to put more space between herself and the river.

  When a man stepped out in front of her and blocked her path, Kate couldn't believe her eyes at first and blinked hard, thinking she was imagining him. But he was still there when she opened them again, huge, dirty, bladed with bright sunlight streaming through the heavy canopy of oak trees. His face was smeared with mud, and so was his long, scraggly beard, a Bible-prophet beard that hung against his chest. His hair was just as long and filthy, stringing out of a jungle hat. He was dressed all in camouflage, and she stared at him in disbelief, shocked he'd gotten so close without her seeing him. Her eyes fixed finally on the long rifle he held, the barrel pointed at her heaving chest.

  Oh, God help her, he was one of them. They'd spread out on this side of the river, too. Some of her inner fortitude snapped like rotted rope, and she felt her heart give way. She sank slowly to her knees. She had nowhere else to run, nowhere to hide, was so totally, completely exhausted she wasn't sure she could anyway. Oh, God, she was going to die now, she was going to have to hand Joey over to them, her darling baby, to these awful, horrible, murderous men. Still unwilling to give up the son she loved with every fiber of her being, she clutched Joey stubbornly against her heart, lifting her chin and vowing never to give him up willingly.

  The man in camouflage stared at her, his eyes very pale and vivid blue, piercingly intense in his filthy face. For an instant their gazes locked as if fused, and Kate felt the tingling electricity in that moment, the terrifying tension that built to a breaking point until she could not draw a breath as she waited for him to pull the trigger and shoot her dead. Then, suddenly, without warning, without a word uttered, he was gone as magically as he'd appeared, melting into the verdant cloak of the trees, leaving Kate staring after him, the distant rushing of the river the only sound in the deep silence of the woods.

  Six

  KATE WAS AFRAID to move. She kept her eyes shut tight, every nerve taut. She banded Joey against her breast with both arms, waiting for the man to change his mind and come back to kill her. Was he really with the others after her? If he was, why would he let her go so easily? Why would he let her keep Joey? In God's name, he looked more like Jeremiah Johnson or some kind of Ozark mountain man. She swallowed convulsively, thinking about what they'd done to Michael. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't, none of this could be real.

  Kate opened her eyes when a bird fluttered onto a leafy branch a few yards distant. It was a bright red cardinal, and he cocked his head and watched her out of one beady black eye. His scarlet feathers were a startling contrast to the gray-green foliage choking the forest landscape. Nothing else in the forest seemed willing to move.

  When she realized that Joey was wriggling in her arms, his cries plaintive and pitiful inside the wet sling, she realized she had to get going again. She couldn't just sit there and wait for one of them to find her. She peered around anxiously, saw nothing, heard nothing. The strange apparition was gone. She braced one hand on the ground and forced herself to her feet again, wincing and groaning with effort. Holding the baby tightly she began to walk rapidly, her eyes darting around from one tree to another, one tangled thicket to the next, stopping often to listen and watch. It was only a matter of time before her husband's killers realized she'd crossed the river, and they'd come after her. They wouldn't be as merciful as the bizarre mountain man, whoever he was.

  It dawned on her then that he might've been Pop's friend, the one named John. But, no, he couldn't be. He was much too old to be the kid Pop had known. It didn't matter who he was anyway, just that he'd let them go. He apparently meant them no harm, so now she had to concentrate on finding a place where she could lie low and rest her throbbing leg and take care of Joey. She kept her eyes glued to the wooded ridge she was approaching, feeling the extra effort of the ascent when she started the climb, but she had to get higher, up where she could see them coming.

  Half an hour later, scratched up and so tired she couldn't think straight, she fought her way out of the scratchy, insect-infested brambles to an elevation that made her feel a little safer. She chose a spot under some dense branches thick with leaves and backed inside the cool darkness, rustling the limbs first to drive away nesting snakes and spiders. For several moments, she examined the forest stretching out in the distance, still so uptight she couldn't relax. Terrified she'd detect figures moving stealthily through the white dogwoods and pink redbuds scattered among the loftier oaks and sycamores, she saw nothing except a million green leaves stirring in the soft, spring breeze.

  Another pathetic little whimper came from Joey, and Kate's heart twisted with compassion. She lifted the baby out and laid him on his back on the ground in front of her. She shrugged out of the knapsack and stripped the sling from around her neck. She wrung out the wet fabric, watching Joey kick his feet inside the soaked sleeper. He waved his arms vigorously, his face turning red as he slowly built up to outrage at the way she'd been treating him. The bottle was still snug inside its elastic holder, a miracle in itself after all they'd been through. She pulled it out and touched it to his lips. He gave one last angry sputter, then grabbed at the nipple. Sucking intensely, his shiny black eyes searched her face accusingly as if demanding an explanation for being dragged through the woods and shot at.

  “You're a tough kid, know that, Joey?” she said, then cut off her words in dismay, afraid even a whisper would carry through the quiet woods. She searched once again for their stalkers. Only the distant roar of the rapids filtered through the morning. The killers weren't in sight and neither was the bizarre man in camouflage, but that didn't mean he wasn't lurking around somewhere, completely invisible in his green and brown forest garb. She didn't see him now but she hadn't seen him the first time either, not until he'd dropped into sight right in front of her. The songbirds had begun a symphony of chirps and cheeps and warbling whistles, cheerful woodland creatures going about their business as if killers weren't out there among them, hunting down Kate to kill her.

  Okay, you've survived till now, Kate, use your head, be smarter than they are. Outwit them somehow. She had to force herself to think
calmly, regroup her thoughts, control the panic that kept threatening to engulf her. She stretched out her leg and massaged her swollen knee, shivering, then realizing how cold and clammy she felt despite the warming of the day. Joey was probably cold, too. Immediately she stripped off the clinging infant sacque. His diaper was heavy with river water, so she removed it and squeezed it out the best she could. All her supplies were wet from the plunge in the river, except for those things in plastic bags, but the dancing shafts of smoky sunlight pouring through the tree branches would dry Joey's damp skin, and the diaper, too.

  A bird called stridently, as high pitched and anxious sounding as Kate felt. His mate came back with a less elegant, throaty chuck-chuck-chuck. She straightened out her other knee and tried to stretch her aching muscles, grimacing when pain streaked to her toes. She rotated her leg side to side as her orthopedic specialist had shown her, wishing she had on the brace he'd ordered custom made to fit her knee. She'd worn it faithfully when exercising since her fall at the Olympics. Despite the pain, she felt strong enough to go on. She jogged several times a week and practiced the gymnastics she'd mastered as a child, but she'd never pushed this hard without her brace. But she could do this, would do it. A little rest was all she needed. Then she'd get going.

  Focusing her attention on the trees below, she grappled with everything that had happened, trying to make sense of it. Everything was about Joey and had been from the beginning. Michael said Joey was a black-market baby, that he'd bought him. But that simply could not be true. The adoption had been a private one, out of the Philippines, the contractual agreement made with the mother before Joey was even born. And Michael had promised, sworn to her on all that was holy, that everything was legal and aboveboard.

  Good God, how many legal forms had she filled out on the kitchen table with Michael sitting at her elbow, helping her? Every detail of their lives since they'd married—their pasts, health records, financial status—all for the mother's peace of mind. Kate had done everything required of her, signed the legal contract, read all the fine print. My God, had the entire thing been a scam? Had Michael been able to trick her so thoroughly? But why, why would he do such a thing?

  Desperately she tried to remember everything he'd said from the first moment he'd brought up the idea of adopting a baby from overseas. It had been on the day Pop was buried, the day she'd been so hurt when Michael hadn't shown up for the funeral service after promising he would. She'd even considered asking for a separation that day, give them time to sort out their problems. They'd grown apart during the last year, Michael spending more and more time at work, telling her less and less about his clients.

  Pressing her fingertips against her aching temples, she leaned back against a tree trunk and forced herself to recall everything he said and did that had led up to this terrible nightmare. Michael knew his killers; he'd admitted it. Why hadn't she realized he was in such serious trouble? Surely he'd said something that should have given her pause, but how could she ever have expected him to be involved in something as awful as this, something that would take his life?

  Lifting Joey against her, she fought a rush of tears, seeing him die over and over, the way his head had jerked on impact, how quick and cruel it had been. She cradled the baby against her shoulder and scanned the trees while she cuddled him, gently rubbing his back in circles the way he liked. He burped a moment later, a dainty one compared to most, but he had calmed somewhat from their wild run, and so had she. Wearily he laid his head down on her shoulder, and she realized he was probably ready for his nap. The Luvs she'd set in the sun was almost dry, so she quickly diapered him.

  When he was back in her arms and content, eyelids drooping, Kate let her mind return to the day of her grandfather's funeral, trying to recall precisely what Michael had said when he had finally shown up. She had been alone down on the riverbank, wondering what she should do about the sorry state of their marriage.

  Kate could remember that day two months ago so clearly. It had been a beautiful afternoon in late March, clear and breezy with fresh-smelling air, when trumpets of daffodils glowed pure gold in the sun and newly budded oaks along the riverbank fluttered vivid green against gray tree trunks. Current River had rushed along its cold-blue, crystal-clear torrent, but even now, weeks later, she could still feel the loneliness that had been inside her heart when Michael had finally shown up, his first words soft with apology.

  "I'm so sorry, Kate. I tried to get here in time. I really did."

  Kate jerked her head up from watching the currents eddy around a submerged log, startled to see Michael standing a few yards away. Anger came quickly and she didn't try to disguise it. “You promised you'd come, Michael. I was all alone. I needed you."

  Michael glanced out over the river and stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He was still dressed up, must have come straight from his office, in a navy blue double-breasted suit worn atop a crisp white shirt with his monogram on the breast pocket.

  "I tried my best to make it in time for the service. I swear to God, I did. I got held up arguing a motion. I drove as fast as I could. I'm sorry. Please try to understand."

  Kate didn't want to talk about it. She looked down at her bare feet and swished them back and forth through the cold water. She didn't answer. She was tired. Tired of Michael spending so much time at work, tired of being alone all the time.

  Michael moved closer and sat down on a flat rock beside her. “I saw all the food Pop's friends brought over. Everybody's going to miss him a lot."

  "Yeah, especially me."

  Her voice choked some, and Michael put his arm around her shoulders. “You going to be okay, sweetheart?"

  Kate laid her head on his shoulder, her anger fading because she was glad he was there. She needed somebody to hold on to. “I guess. It's really hard. You know how close I was to Pop."

  "Yeah. He was a good guy, even if he didn't care much for me."

  At the moment, she was too emotionally drained to get into that with him. Pop hadn't liked some of the people Michael dealt with or how often he left Kate alone. Something was wrong between them, even Pop had sensed it, something she couldn't quite understand. Maybe they needed time apart to think things through. Maybe she ought to discuss it with Michael now, when her nerves felt so dead.

  "How long do you want to stay down here? I took a couple of days off to be with you. You've got a lot to think about, with Pop's house and business to take care of.” He reached out and lifted a strand of her silky blond ponytail and she leaned against him, wishing things weren't quite so complicated.

  "I love it down here. I feel good when I'm on the river. Free."

  "It's a pretty place. Peaceful. That's probably what you need right now. Some peace and quiet.” Michael was trying to make it up to her now, being so sweet, she knew that, but she welcomed his kindness. They used to be so close, Michael so attentive. Why had they grown apart? How had it happened?

  "Michael, I've decided to stay on here for awhile."

  "That's okay. I think you should. Tie up all the loose ends, put the place up for sale. I'll handle the realty contracts when I get some time, then I'll invest Pop's money for you."

  "No. I mean I want to live here. All the time."

  For the first time, Kate turned to look at him, her eyes searching his handsome face, and she could see the shock in his eyes. He stared at her, openly dismayed, as if he had no idea of the strain their marriage had suffered over the past year. They hardly saw each other, much less had a meaningful conversation.

  "Kate, listen to me. I know you're upset today. You're fed up with me, and I know it. It's my fault. I've been neglecting you. I haven't kept promises when I should have, wasn't here today when you needed me. I've hurt you, but I don't want to lose you. Please, let's try to work things out. I know we can."

  Kate was truly surprised that he even cared, but heartened that he wanted to make a go of it. “I never see you, Michael. What kind of marriage is that? We used to do t
hings, go places, laugh and have fun together. Now all you do is work. I feel like a housekeeper instead of a wife. We'd both be better off if we split up for awhile, think about what we really want out of life."

  "No,” he said, his voice sharper now, “no, we won't.” He took her hand, and she looked down as he sandwiched it between his palms. His skin was deep brown from a two-week business trip to Los Angeles. Her fingers seemed very white.

  "Look at me, Kate. I mean it this time. I'm going to do better, I promise you. I want us to start over. I'm tired of the grind I've been in. It's time for us to begin again, rebuild our marriage."

  Kate's eyes narrowed at his earnest appeal, trying to plumb those pale gray depths, wanting to believe him but not sure she could. His work had gradually become everything to him. She had hoped for a day when he would say these things, look at her the way he was doing at the moment, but they'd been trying so long. She was tired of new starts. She wasn't sure about anything anymore. She wasn't even sure she loved him anymore. Her own inner admission stunned her, and she glanced away, hiding her dismay.

  "I like it here, Michael. The quiet life. I want to stay and run Pop's business. He left it to me, along with the cabin. It's enough for me. I have lots of high school friends who still live in Van Buren. I can be happy here. I hate living in St. Louis."