The Night Killer

guessed, maybe in his forties. The years hadn’t been kind. He looked like the type of person Diane didn’t want to meet alone in a dark alley-or on a dark, rainy night on a muddy mountain road. Her already fast-beating heart sped up another notch. She eased back a step against her vehicle. She wondered, if she jumped in the SUV, could she back it out from under the tree?

The man was the Barres’ neighbor-sort of-she told herself. He’s probably fine. He swung a flashlight back and forth down by his side. From the light it cast, the batteries were running low.

“Oh, fine. I. . The tree. .” Diane tried smiling. “There’s a skeleton on the hood of my car,” she said, and grimaced at how that sounded.

“Skeleton? Where?” he said.

She pointed behind her without taking her eyes off the man.

“You must of hit your head. I don’t see no skeleton.” He grinned at her.

Chapter 2

Diane’s heart beat loud in her ears as she eased back toward the open door. Before she could scramble in, the man grabbed at her, his grip landing on her wet forearm. She jerked away and his wet grasp slipped, scraping her arm with his nails. Diane didn’t hesitate-she struck out and hit the end of his nose with the palm of her hand. He yelled and stepped back, hands to his face. Diane ran at him, grabbing his flashlight from his loosened grasp as she brushed past him.

Unfortunately he now blocked the entry to her SUV. Not that getting in her vehicle was a good plan. If she couldn’t get the SUV moving, she would be screwed. Diane ran down the muddy road, hoping to avoid anything in the darkness that would twist her ankle. She couldn’t afford to fall. She couldn’t afford a sprain.

Diane heard the man yelling, but through the noise of the rain, she made out only the word dogs. There was more than one person, and he was telling them to get the dogs. She cut quickly into the woods. The road would be easier to negotiate, but it would also leave her out in the open. When she was hidden by the foliage, Diane stopped for a moment to catch her breath and listen. At first she heard only her heart and the rain. Gradually she became aware, through the sound of the downpour, of dogs barking.

Diane had heard a K-9 officer speak to the Rosewood PD about dogs and their ability to track a scent. She came away with the idea that a dog’s nose was so far superior to the human nose that it was almost not analogous to the human ability to smell. And that if a well-trained dog and a good handler were on your trail, you were caught. And worse, a well-trained dog could track in the rain. Though in this downpour and on these mountainsides, she suspected the scent would be displaced quite a bit, maybe even washed away. Diane wondered if the dogs she heard were tracking dogs, or perhaps, more likely, hunting dogs. Or maybe they were fighting dogs. She had heard that some people in this county, though it was illegal, trained fighting dogs.

Diane wiped the rain out of her eyes.

Damn-how did I get in this predicament?

She started at a walk, as quickly as she dared, away from the derelict house. There was no running in dark woods. The only light she had was a flashlight running low on battery power. And flashes of lightning. No, she also had her cell phone on her belt. Though she didn’t get any service here, the display had a light that could help a little in pitch-black.

A flash of lightning illuminated the area around her for a moment. It was like a snapshot, and she committed it to memory. Diane was afraid to use the flashlight so close to the house, for fear it would be seen. She continued parallel to the road. Vines and undergrowth slapped her face and scratched her arms.

If she could find her way back to the Barres’, she would be safe. But she had been barely able to find her way to their home by road. She had no idea of the way through the woods. They had asked her to stay the night and leave in the morning. She wished she’d taken them up on their kind offer. Now here she was in the forest in a downpour with little light, chased by some maniac, and about to be chased by dogs.

Diane tried to ignore the rain, her soggy clothes, and the sick fear churning in the pit of her stomach as she trudged through the underbrush. She was stopped by a thicket as impenetrable as a wall. She was too wary to go out into the open roadway. Her only other choice was to go deeper into the woods and work her way around the thicket. The ground sloped downward, away from the thicket, and the forest litter was slick. She almost fell, startled by the sound of a loud muffler-a vehicle on the road. There was enough of the roadway visible through the thick underbrush for her to see a pickup driving slowly by. She heard barking and thought she saw dogs in the back of the truck. She ducked and lay almost flat on the ground, covering her face with the sleeve of her shirt, just as a shaft of light swept through the openings in the foliage.

Diane watched the taillights as the truck slowly moved down the muddy road. The wind was blowing in her direction, blowing her scent away from the dogs. She was grateful. And she was thankful for the rain, as uncomfortable as it was.

She rose from her hiding place on shaky legs. She peered nervously through the darkness, looking for signs of a flashlight, fearing that someone might also be coming after her through the woods. She saw nothing. She listened for the dogs. It was hard to tell whether the barking was getting closer. She didn’t know if they were in pens or on her trail. Diane held her breath and strained to listen. In pens, she decided. She wasn’t that far from the old house. Surely they would have found her if they were loose.

The lights of the truck were no longer visible to her, but she heard the engine. It wasn’t far, but at least it was out of sight. She started walking, trying to keep parallel to the roadway, but it was nearly impossible. It was so dark. She was probably veering off deeper into the woods. If she could just find a place to hide until daylight. A safe place. What kind of place would be safe? she asked herself. She pressed on as fast as she dared, trying not to stumble, silently cursing the uneven ground.

The rain had thoroughly soaked her clothes and sneakers, and her wet socks were already rubbing the heels of her feet. She stopped a moment to rest, leaning forward with her hands on her thighs. Diane wasn’t so much tired or out of breath as scared. She needed to calm down, to think. She brought the image of the map to the Barres’ house up in her mind and tried to visualize the lay of the land. Where was the road in relation to the house? She looked around, squinting at the dark trees and underbrush blowing and moving with the wind and hard rain. How in the world could she translate her location to a position on the map? Impossible. She thought she was going in the right direction, but she didn’t know. She could be heading ninety degrees from the direction she needed to go.

She listened again. The dogs were just as loud as before, but the rhythm of their barking had changed. They were loose and on her trail. Diane turned on the flashlight for a few moments and selected a direction to follow. She could make out trees in the darkness, and the hill beyond, but that was about all. The small hollow she was in had ended and she had to climb the next ridge. She started walking again. Her footfalls were quiet on the wet forest floor. Thank heaven for that. The sound of the rain was louder than the noise she made walking through the underbrush.

Diane stepped in a small hole and almost fell. Damn. She was tempted to use her light, but she didn’t dare shine it for more than a few seconds. She climbed the steep grade. The chill made her legs ache on the incline. She was accustomed to putting discomfort in the back of her mind, ignoring it. As a caver, she had experienced more than one occasion when she had to endure discomfort for long periods. There were more hills between her and the Barres’, so she tucked away any aches she felt and concentrated on putting distance between her and the mysterious house.

She climbed the hill, sometimes grabbing at roots to help her up the slick, steep incline. At the top she thought she heard the rumbling muffler of the truck off in the distance. She definitely heard the dogs. They were after her, with or without a handler restraining them. She increased her speed and almost slid down the slope. She grasped at a limb to keep from falling. It raked across her hand. She put her stinging palm on her cold, wet jacket for a moment and kept going.

I need a plan, Diane thought. There were thousands of acres here and few houses. She realized she was no longer walking parallel to the road. She could be getting farther away from any roadway or the Barres’ house. She stopped, leaned against a tree, and thought a moment.

On the way to their house she’d crossed several small bridges-several creeks. Okay, creeks. That was her