Czytaj książkę: «Mountain Refuge»

ONE

Summer Dawson was alone on a mountain when she heard the first out-of-place sound, felt the first inklings that something might be wrong, that danger might be close.

She’d been running uphill, relishing the burning in her legs and lungs that reminded her that she was alive, when something rustling in the bushes made her pause and listen.

Summer had stilled immediately and stood now, listening to the sounds she’d grown up with. The Alaskan mountain was full of life, even at ten o’clock at night as daylight was starting to fade. She should have started this run hours earlier, and usually did. Her busy schedule working at the lodge didn’t leave a lot of time for training, but mountain running was important to her, her outlet, her dream she didn’t like to talk about.

A dream she’d mostly given up on.

But still, she ran the mountains because it was what she’d always done.

Today’s run, like every Tuesday, was supposed to be up Hope Mountain, across Lupine Pass, then down Cook Mountain, where her sister, Kate, would be waiting for her. From there, they’d drive back to Summer’s car at the Hope Mountain Trailhead. Neither would talk about why Summer trained so hard when she didn’t compete anymore, not even at nearby Mount Marathon, but they did the same routine every week. Like clockwork.

Until now. A shiver ran through her, followed by goose bumps down her bare arms. She untied the jacket she always wore around her waist, put it on and hoped it was just the cold and the later-than-usual night that had her spooked. Much as she tried though, Summer couldn’t deny that something about the rustle in the bushes had her on edge. Her hand went to the bear spray attached to the belt she always wore when she ran. The Kenai Peninsula was known for its large brown bears. Summer had seen more than one in her time in the woods but never too close. So far she’d escaped any encounters like that.

Hesitantly she moved forward again slowly, not wanting to run lest she awaken a bear’s predatory instinct if one did have her in its line of vision.

Then she heard nothing. Just the normal sounds. She exhaled, picked up her pace slightly and removed her hand from the bear spray.

And then something had her, from behind, hands on her arms, rough, pulling, jerking her off the trail. She heard a faint jingle, like car keys on a key chain maybe. That was the sound she’d heard earlier—that’s why she’d been spooked. She opened her mouth and screamed, but the deep humorless laughter behind her reminded her how futile it was. This wasn’t a well-used trail except on weekends. No one would hear her screams.

“There’s no use fighting. You’re going to die today.”

Summer tensed her arms, tried to wrestle out of his grip, but he was too strong, even as he released her with one arm and then threw the other one all the way across her to pull her up against him, his hand heavy, her heart thudding in her chest.

Dying wasn’t an option. Not for Summer. Not when for the last three years she felt like she’d barely lived. She’d gone through the motions, fulfilled obligations, even climbed mountains...

But she hadn’t really lived. She wasn’t ready yet, wasn’t done.

No. Dying was not an option. She stilled slightly, hoping she could lull him into complacency, somehow trick him into loosening his grip so she could escape. Instead he held her against him even tighter, drew a knife with the other hand—he was left-handed, she should remember that—and ran it slowly up her arm. There was nothing remarkable about the knife except that it was large, four or five inches. Shiny. Sharp against her skin as he pressed just hard enough to leave the smallest of scratches.

“This is how it begins.”

Something in the words sickened her, terrified her. Please, God. She didn’t remember the last time she’d prayed. For now that was all she could muster.

Noise in the bushes startled them both. She felt her captor shift and assumed he was looking at the noise. She moved her head like she was too, but lowered her chin in the process. Took a breath and slammed her head back as hard as she could.

He yelled in pain, and when he loosened his grip slightly, she rammed an elbow into his ribs.

And then she was free.

Summer didn’t stop to look back to see if he was pursuing—she just started running. She was free, she was alive and she had another chance to live like it.

She wasn’t going to mess this up.

* * *

Clay Hitchcock pulled into the parking lot at the Moose Haven Lodge, hoping his fresh start wouldn’t turn out to be a disaster. He was already later than he’d meant to be. A glance at the dash reminded him of that. It was 11:00 p.m. If Tyler hadn’t assured him any time before midnight was fine he’d feel awful. As it was, Clay just felt tired. He jerked the key from the ignition, exhaled and got out.

Tyler Dawson, the friend who had gotten him this job, ran from the lodge. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My sister should have been back from a hike an hour ago.”

“And she’s not?” Cop senses died hard apparently, because Clay’s instincts heightened, ready for action as if he was back in his old life.

“No. We’re spreading out. If I give you directions, can you drive around a certain area?”

“Of course.” Clay might be new here, but he did most of his growing up in the swamps and woods of coastal Georgia. Back roads were somewhere he felt comfortable.

“Here.”

Tyler handed him a ripped strip of paper, like they’d written out a list of places to search and divided them up. Not bad for civilians running an informal search. Speaking of which... “You’ve called the police, right?”

“Yes. But we’re a small town with a small department. There are only three Moose Haven officers and one of them is out on maternity leave. So that leaves two.”

Clay winced, knowing from his own police experience that the chances of both even being able to join the search were slim.

“They’re both searching because one of them is my brother.”

Clay whistled low. “Are you going out too?” He hadn’t seen any other cars in the lot when he’d pulled up and had wondered if the lodge was empty this late at night.

“My truck’s around back. Call me if you see anything and I’ll let everyone else know.”

Clay nodded, climbed back into his truck and drove away.

The woods alongside the roads he drove looked nothing like the tall Georgia pines he was used to investigating among, but the situation was familiar to him. He’d been involved in a search or two during his time at the Treasure Point Police Department, but even though he’d only been officially without a badge for two months now, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Unless Clay let himself actually remember it, hang on to that part of his life. And then it felt like yesterday. But he didn’t want that. Couldn’t take that.

He pulled out of the parking lot and looked at the note Tyler had given him. Howard’s Landing Road was the first road, followed by a list of other locations and directions from place to place. He pulled the first road up on his phone’s map setting and pressed the gas.

He realized as he drove that he hadn’t asked which sister was missing. Tyler had two. Kate and Summer, if he remembered their names correctly from hearing Tyler mention them in the past. Who was lost? What had happened?

God, we could use some help.

The words came easily. People had let him down in his lifetime, more in the last few months than usual, but God never had. More now than ever, Clay clung to that faith. Having walked away from everything else consistent in his life, God was all he had.

And this job, thanks to Tyler. Which wasn’t off to the best start. What had happened to whichever Dawson sister was missing?

He continued praying silently as he drove, even as years of law enforcement thoughts crowded his mind, pushed out any hope of peace he had been clinging to. Odds weren’t good that she was unharmed.

Clay hoped, whichever sister it was, she could take care of herself.

And hoped even more that God would take care of her.

* * *

Summer Dawson’s feet pounded the dirt beneath them as she rounded another corner in the thick spruce forest, desperately struggling to stay ahead of whoever was behind her, whoever this man was who wanted her dead. She could still hear his footfalls, the rocks in the trail scattering behind her, and knew he wasn’t far behind.

If only she knew how long she’d be running. She was in good shape, leading hikes at her family’s lodge for so many years had seen to that, not to mention her training regimen—but she’d already been out for several hours. Fatigue wouldn’t take long to set in, and Summer didn’t know where she was—she’d had to divert from the path she knew after she’d rounded one of the corners and he had been there waiting.

Summer hadn’t had time to react, hadn’t had time to assess the situation or use any of the self-defense training or survival skills she possessed. In the moment when she’d needed all of that most, all she’d been able to do was scream. Finally she’d hit him hard enough to be able to run.

But first he’d been able to talk to her, say things she wouldn’t soon forget. First, he’d been able to run a knife up her arm and promise her that death wouldn’t come quickly.

Summer wondered if, when she stopped, when she’d gotten away and didn’t have to run anymore, if she’d feel the cold blade against her skin like it was still there. Somehow she suspected she would.

Determination renewed, she pushed herself harder. She was less than ten miles from her family’s lodge, she was fairly certain about that much. Summer didn’t recognize the trail she was on right now, but it had to connect eventually to one she was familiar with, didn’t it?

As she ran, Summer went over her would-be killer’s description in her mind to make sure the details were cemented in her memory and to distract her from the burning in her lungs. He wore a mask. Black Carhartt stocking cap. She hadn’t noticed much more than that, his features—the ones she’d been able to see—weren’t etched into her mind the way the glimmering silver of the knife was.

Were it not for the noise in the bushes distracting him, Summer would probably be dead right now, bleeding out on the floor of the forest where she’d so often come to feel alive again. The irony wasn’t lost on her. No, it cut deep inside, the pain so strong she almost couldn’t bear it.

She’d felt safe here. And now that had been stolen from her.

Just like life had stolen so many things from her over the past three years.

She couldn’t think about any of that right now, all she could afford to focus on was running, the fall of her feet, pushing harder, faster, as her lungs screamed for air. She silently chastised them. Better to be burning and in pain than dead.

Please, God... She’d prayed more tonight than she had since the night three years ago when everything had changed.

Summer didn’t even know what she was praying for at this point. But she knew she needed all the help she could get.

She heard a twig snap behind her. Legs screaming, lungs burning, she sped up even more, one last sprint, that’s all she had in her.

The woods grew lighter. Was that...?

There was a dirt road in front of her. A beautiful road that hopefully led to town. And people.

Still running, she whipped her phone out and used her voice-to-text feature to send a message to her siblings. Help. She wasn’t willing to chance it by taking the time to say anything else, but she needed help. One of her brothers was a police officer in Moose Haven—she didn’t know if they could GPS track her or anything, but it might be the only chance she had.

She emerged from the woods and ran into the road.

And almost ran straight into the path of a red pickup truck not fifty yards away, driving straight toward her.

Summer froze when she saw it, took only a second to make up her mind and then ran toward it, waving her arms. This couldn’t be her attacker—he wouldn’t have had time to get a truck to come after her, not when she’d heard his footsteps behind her only minutes before. It could be a getaway car, driven by another criminal, but it was a measured risk on Summer’s part—it was more likely the driver was someone who could help her. Besides, she couldn’t outrun a pickup, and if the driver of it wanted her dead, he’d just run her over while she sprinted down the road. Better to take a chance, maybe get out alive. Still, her heart pounded a crazy rhythm in her chest. How had her night gone from enjoying her usual route to this—running for her life? The driver stopped when she reached him, and she threw the door open.

“Drive.”

Amazingly, he didn’t ask questions. He just floored it down the road, eating up the gravel and throwing up dust.