Vicious

“Talk about strange,” someone said.

Startled, Hannah swiveled around and gaped at the man.

With his hands tucked in the pockets of his blue windbreaker, the handsome stranger gave her a crooked grin. “Looks like he just stepped off the crazy bus,” he said.

Hannah shyly smiled, wiped the sweat from her forehead and flicked back her Sassy Ginger hair. She nodded toward the darkened trail in front of them. “Yeah, I think I’ll wait a minute before I head down there. He’s probably harmless, but I’m giving him a wide berth just the same.”

“Smart,” the handsome man replied. “A pretty woman like you shouldn’t take any chances at this hour.” He gave her a little wave. “Well, take care.” Then he started to walk away.

“You too!” Hannah called. “Take care!” Biting her lip, she watched the good-looking man wander toward the shadowy trail. Don’t just stand there, stupid, she thought. He’s cute. Go after him, talk to him!

“Hey, wait a second, okay?” Hannah called. She hurried to meet up with the man.

Stopping, he turned and half smiled at her.

Suddenly, she was a little breathless. “Listen, would you mind if I walked with you—just to be on the safe side?”

“No problem, c’mon,” he said, taking a step toward her. For a moment, Hannah thought he’d touch her arm. But his hands remained in the pockets of his blue windbreaker. He nodded toward the paved pathway that snaked through the gloomy woods ahead. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you. Do you live close by?”

“Yes, near the Cornish School,” Hannah answered, strolling beside him. “Lucky for me you came along.”

He didn’t respond. They’d just passed under the last streetlight for a while, and now headed into the wooded section. A few empty cars were parked on the side of the winding road. Hannah kept a lookout for the weird jogger, but she didn’t see him in the darkness ahead. She didn’t see anyone at all.

She felt the stranger’s shoulder brush against hers. Was he flirting? She stole a furtive sidelong glance at him. No, he wasn’t even looking at her. He seemed to be scoping out the area. Maybe he was on the lookout for the crazy jogger, too.

A cool wind kicked up. Tree branches and bushes seemed to come alive for a moment. She could hear the man’s breathing grow heavier. Hannah glanced at him again. He looked so serious—and tense. His gaze shifted from side to side as if he were making sure no one else was around. Then he peered over his shoulder.

Hannah glanced back in the same direction. There was no one behind them. “So—did you lose something?” she asked.

“What?” he said.

“I was wondering if you’d lost your dog or your cat, the way you keep looking around as if you…” She trailed off.

He wasn’t listening. As they walked side by side, Hannah became more and more uncomfortable. Finally, the stranger paused and whispered, almost to himself. “We’re all alone here, aren’t we?”

Hannah swallowed hard and tried to veer away from him ever so subtly. “You know, I think I’m okay now,” she said, finally. “I—I’m going to finish my run. It was—it was nice of you to—”

“Did you hear that?” he interrupted, stopping suddenly.

Hannah stopped, too. “Hear what?”

He took hold of her arm and led her off the trail—toward some bushes. Twigs snapped under their feet. “Listen to it,” he said. “Sounds like whimpering….”

Hannah’s whole body stiffened up. She gently pulled her arm away. Any minute now, she expected him to slap a hand over her mouth and drag her into the bushes. She thought about making a break for it—while he was staring into the thicket. But then she heard it, too: a strange, muffled whining. It sounded like a wounded animal.

He weaved around some bushes. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” he said, his back to her. “But I recognize that crying….”

Hannah didn’t move. She gazed into the woods, but couldn’t see anything beyond the first group of shrubs and trees. There was just darkness. Still, she heard the whimpering.

“Sounds like my kid,” the man said. He squinted over his shoulder at her. “Earlier, you didn’t see a pretty brunette with a baby in a stroller, did you?”

Confused, Hannah just shook her head.

He heaved a sigh. “My wife and I had an argument tonight. She left with the baby. Last time she blew up at me, she came to this park. That’s why I’m here….” The man rana hand through his red hair, then turned and gazed into the forest. “I can’t hear him anymore,” he said, a panic in his voice. “Pam?” he called out. “Sweetie? Is that Andy I hear? Sweetheart?”

Hannah dared to venture a few steps farther into the woods. At the same time, she widened the gap between her and the man. Just beyond a cluster of shrubs, she detected movement. Moonlight reflected off something shiny and metal; it looked like a fallen bicycle’s handlebars. With apprehension, Hannah moved in closer. The muffled whimpering became louder. The man was right. It sounded like a baby’s stifled cries.

“Andy, is that you?” the man called, heading in the other direction. “Pam?”

Hannah crept around the bushes and gasped. It wasn’t a bicycle’s handlebars shining in the moonlight. She could see the baby stroller now—and the gleaming metal struts. “Over here!” she screamed.

She hurried toward the baby. Writhing and kicking in his stroller, he wore a hooded blue jacket and held a little stuffed yellow giraffe that looked a bit tattered. Someone had wrapped a green cloth around the lower part of his face. Hannah wondered how the baby could breathe with that thing over his nose and mouth. The cloth—it looked like a scarf—muted his cries but didn’t stop him from trying to shriek in protest. His face was red, and tears slid down his cheeks. He vainly swatted at the scarf with one little hand. The other hand clung to the dilapidated stuffed animal.

Instinctively, Hannah lifted the wriggling baby out of his stroller seat. How could his stupid mother just abandon him like this? She held him tightly with one arm and started to unravel the scarf from his face. “You poor thing,” she murmured. It was hard holding on to him; he kept squirming and twitching. His little face was so red, it almost matched his hair.

The man staggered through the bushes. “Oh, Jesus, Andy!” he cried, reaching out for him. “It’s Daddy….”

Hannah gave the child to his father, but kept unraveling the scarf—careful not to scratch the baby’s cheek with her fingernails. His screams became louder, and he wiggled fiercely. “What in the world?” she muttered. To her horror, Hannah found part of the silky material crammed into the baby’s little mouth. She pulled out the makeshift gag, partially stained with his saliva and tears.

The little boy gasped, then let go an ear-piercing scream. He trembled in his father’s arms. The man kept hugging him and kissing his forehead.

“Do you know whose this is?” Hannah asked, showing him the green silk scarf. She had to shout over the baby’s cries.

“That’s his mother’s,” the man replied, dazed. He rocked the baby in an effort to calm him down. “She—she had it on when she left the house earlier. But she—she wouldn’t have done that to him, not Pam. She’s a good mother, she—”

Hannah gazed at him and shook her head.

The man seemed to choke on those words, She’s a good mother. Tears came to his eyes as he stared at the frayed stuffed giraffe in his son’s grasp. “Oh, my God, that’s not his…. It’s not his toy…. Oh, Jesus, this isn’t happening….”

In horror and disgust, he knocked the stuffed animal out of the boy’s hand. The child shrieked even louder, and his father held him against his chest. He anxiously glanced at the dark woods around them. “Pam?” he screamed. “Sweetheart? Pam?”

The green scarf slipped out of Hannah’s grasp. Numbly, she stepped back and bumped into a tree. But she barely felt it. She couldn’t feel anything beyond the terrible sensation in her gut.

Most everyone in the Seattle area knew about the string of recent murders. Three women had disappeared in the last few months. Their ages varied, but they had one thing in common. They were all mothers, each one abducted in front of her son. In what was becoming an eerie calling card, their abductor always left behind a used