Which she wasn’t.
She rolled onto her shoulder and looked around. The sheer face of the mountain continued for some distance, maybe a few hundred yards. Then it dissolved like a more gradual slope.
A slope that Holden could descend.
He could go down that way, Gillian thought, approach from below, and get to me by climbing up.
She didn’t see him, but the area along the base of the slope was heavily wooded. Holden could be down there, out of sight, making his way through the trees along the edge of the valley.
She spotted a trail among the trees. On the far side of the trail was a stream. It rushed along, shining in the afternoon sunlight. In places, it was white with froth. Gillian could hear the distant sound of it tumbling through the rocks.
She rolled flat again. The trail and stream followed the side of the gulley. Directly below her, the trees opened up. That was good. If Holden descended all the way to the bottom and came through the woods, he’d be in plain sight for a while before reaching the heaped boulders.
Turning her head, Gillian scanned the area to her left. The trail and stream were visible for only a short distance before the clearing. They vanished around the foot of a bluff that was nearly as high as Gillian’s perch. She looked back. A glance at the mountainside was enough to convince her that Holden wouldn’t try to descend on that side. It was steep, and it stayed steep.
So now we know, she thought, which way he’ll come.
If he comes.
If he’s not dead in the rocks down there.
I’ve got two choices, she thought. I can either stay here or climb down.
I’ll have to climb down sooner or later.
But he’d have a hard time getting to me here. He can’t sneak up on me.
Gillian wiped sweat out of her eyes, looked around, and saw plenty of good-sized rocks within reach.
I can bash his brains in before he ever gets near me.
But he’s too smart to make himself a target. As long as I’m here, I’m trapped and he knows where I am. What if he waits for night? What if I fall asleep or pass out, and he makes it up here while I’m zonked?
I can’t last forever up here.
She felt the sun beating down on her, broiling her back. She felt sweat sliding down her skin. Her tongue was a dry slab.
She hadn’t taken a drink since last night. She’d spent hours sweating inside the trunk of Holden’s car.
If I wait too long, she thought, I won’t be
She found herself staring at the stream. She listened to it rushing over the rocks. She could almost taste it.
Through the trees to the left of the clearing, she saw it cascading, white as snow. Straight in front of her, it formed a clear, glinting pool. She pictured herself sliding into the chill water, sucking it into her mouth.
If I start down now, she thought, I’ll be there in half an hour. Maybe less.
If Holden doesn’t get me.
If he shows up, I’ll stone him. Plenty of ammunition.
Gillian squirmed backward away from the edge, then got to her hands and knees. The movement made her head pound. A wave of dizziness washed by. It left her frightened.
If that happens while I’m trying to climb down ...
Get going.
She sat down, then scooted herself toward the right-hand side of the shelf. Her feet went out over the edge. Her calves scraped. Then her feet dropped out of sight and the pain reminded her to be careful of her right knee.
What if it’s too weak to hold me up?
She kept inching forward. Her legs dangled. She clutched the edge of the shelf with both hands and leaned out.
Her toes were nearly touching the next rock down.
She lay backward and rolled over. Then she squirmed on her belly, easing herself off the ledge until her feet found the rock. Carefully, she pushed herself away from the shelf.
She stood on the foothold, still holding the upper ledge with both hands.
So far, she thought, not bad.
She looked down at her destination. The sparkling pool of the stream.
And she saw Holden pass between two trees as he walked along the trail far below. For moments, he was hidden by the woods. Then he appeared against the edge of the clearing. He still carried the broken stick in one hand, his knife in the other. He turned and gazed up at the slope.
His head suddenly snapped to the side.
He shoved the knife blade down a rear pocket of his pants. Gillian looked to the left.
“Oh my Christ,” she muttered.
Just this side of the place where the trail vanished behind the outcropping were two women with backpacks. The one in the lead raised a hand in greeting. Holden waved to her.
He walked toward the women.
“RUN!” Gillian shouted. “GET OUT OF HERE!”
Neither hiker turned a head.
Gillian yelled and yelled as the gap narrowed between the two women and Holden.
It’s the damn stream! she thought.
They were so close to it, the noise of the rushing water was masking her shouts.
She let go of the ledge. Balancing on the rock, she squatted, then she sat down and straddled it. She clawed the slope behind her and pulled loose a chip of stone. She hurled it at the women. It flew out in a high arch, dropped beyond the clustered boulders below, and vanished in undergrowth at the edge of the clearing.
The second hiker glanced toward the place where the stone had landed. But she kept walking. She stopped beside her friend, took off her ballcap, and rubbed a forearm across her brow.
They both faced Holden. He was no more than three feet in front of them. From the gestures, Gillian guessed that they were talking. Holden pointed to the trail behind him. He shrugged. Then his stick whipped through the air. It struck the stout woman across the side of the head. Her straw hat flew off. Her legs folded. Her knees hit the ground and she dropped forward flat on her face.
Gillian heard herself shriek, “NO!”
The other woman spun around and ran up the trail. She flung off her pack. Holden leaped over it. He grabbed the knife out of his rear pocket as he chased her.
She was fast, but Holden gained on her. Reaching out, he grabbed the back of her gray T-shirt. The fabric stretched, tenting out behind her. Then she staggered and danced sideways as if being swung on the end of a rope. Her feet tangled. She went down, tumbling and rolling. Holden pounced on her.
“We could stop anywhere along here,” Rick said.
“I’d rather find a place,” Bert said, “where the stream isn’t so close to the trail. We’d have people hiking right by our camp.”
Rick smiled. “Yeah, this trail is Grand Central Station around here.”
They hadn’t seen anyone except Angus the lunatic since leaving the girls. But Rick agreed with Bert. If they kept going, they might find a good secluded area.
“Why don’t we just give it another hour?” Bert suggested. “It’d be nice to get settled while we have some of the afternoon ahead of us.”
“How far’s Mulligan Lake?”
“More like two hours.”
“Andrea and Bonnie’ll probably be there,” Rick said.
“Well, we won’t go that far.” She looked at him, a corner of her mouth curling up. “Unless you want to.”
