Worried someone will see, she scans the trail before pulling her shirt up. The rash from her belly to her chest rises into welts. She shouldn’t scratch the rash, should wait until she can apply cream at home. But there’s no helping the infernal itching. Her nails dig into the rash. It’s getting worse. Every day a little worse.
Using the walking stick, Cecilia pulled herself to her feet and steadied herself. A moment of vertigo. Then the fog cleared out of her head, and she followed the dirt trail paralleling the river. She climbed over a rock pile, fatigue heavy on her chest. When she cleared the obstacle, the winding river opened to a straightaway. A man sat upon the bank a hundred feet ahead. He held a fishing pole, the line cast into the deep middle and pulled taut. A voice in her head urged her to turn back. Something about the man unsettled her. She caught him staring as she approached.
Tall grass partially concealed his face. The wind shoved the flora aside, and she recognized the fisherman as Garrick Tillery. She pulled up and considered her options. If she turned around, he’d realize she was avoiding him. Tillery attended St. Mary’s. He drank himself sick at Hattie’s on the weekends, and he had a sexual assault charge on his record. Cecilia didn’t know the details. Whispered rumors at church claimed Tillery raped an underage girl.
Cecilia lowered her head when Tillery glanced at her. He chewed a piece a grass and held a beer can in one hand. Two empties littered the bank.
“Afternoon,” he said, nodding as Cecilia passed.
His gaze slithered over her skin and violated her.
“You too good for me to answer?”
She flinched and looked over her shoulder.
“Afternoon, Mr. Tillery.”
He cursed under his breath, yanked back on the rod, and reeled the line in. As she dropped out of view, he recast. The baited hook plunked into the river and sank beneath the reflected light.
His stare pierced her back as she emerged beneath the ridge. She exhaled after she put distance between them. But she wouldn’t look back. Not until she made it to the tree line, where the trail weaved through forestland before depositing hikers beside the river again.
Cecilia quickened her pace. Inside the forest, she turned and parted the leaves. Ran her vision along the faraway bank. Where was he? Not seeing him sent a chill down her back.
She reached for her phone and checked her messages. None waited. The signal strength fluttered around one bar until she lost coverage inside the forest. Duncan was right. She was stupid to come out here by herself. Turning back wasn’t an option. Not with Garrick Tillery fishing along the river. She’d finish her hike and wait for sunset, then return after he’d packed his gear and left.
Beams of light cut through the canopy and painted a checkerboard pattern across the forest floor. Dead leaves crunched underfoot. The temperature dropped ten degrees inside the woods, and she chided herself for not carrying a jacket.
Cecilia was halfway to the river when a whisper pulled her head around. She turned in a circle, the forest looming over her like silent guardians.
“Who’s there?”
She searched for kids, expecting to find a teenage couple strolling down the trail. But there was nobody.
Cupping her elbows with her hands, she fought the growing fatigue and continued down the trail, her eyes darting between the shadows.
“Cecilia.”
There. That hadn’t been her imagination. Someone whispered her name.
She whipped around and searched where the voice had come from. Saw only darkness hiding among the trees.
“Duncan? Is that you?”
Or was Garrick Tillery following her through the forest? Would he rape a dying woman?
She quickened her pace and rushed between the trees, the phone held at arm’s length as she struggled to read the screen without her reading glasses. Placed a call to Duncan. No service.
A branch snapped like a gunshot behind her, just beyond view. Footsteps approached.
Cecilia tossed the walking stick aside and ran. The river had to be close, no more than a minute ahead. Once she reached the bank, she’d be out of the dark and into the sunlight. Safety was close. Except few people walked this section of the trail.
Her lungs protested as she picked up speed. No way to tell if the footsteps were her own echoing off the trees or her pursuer’s racing up behind her. Light grew beyond the branches. Precious light. Her legs were rubber bands, arms hanging at her sides as she neared the river. Leaves rustled as someone pushed through the forest. Her pursuer was a heartbeat behind.
When she burst into the light, she searched the trail for help. Deserted. She was the only person walking this length of the river. An idea formed when she spied the plank bridging this bank to the far side. The river rushed past, speeding up at the width narrowed. Shooting a look over her shoulder, she assessed the dark forest. Didn’t hear the pursuit anymore.
Without looking down, she balanced on the plank and stepped across. If she slipped, the current would drag her under, and she was in no condition to fight the river. Her ankle twisted halfway across. She grit her teeth and pushed on, arms stretched to each side to lend balance. After another stumble, she leaped and landed on the opposite bank. More forest lay ahead. Picking up the plank, she tossed it into the flow and hurried into behind the
