Page 8 of Tripp

My brother would get worried and maybe come looking for me—but I’d not told him where I was going because I had no clue this was how things would work out. If I didn’t call to check in—he’d get help. I just hoped he and Penny didn’t worry that something bad had happened. I was okay, just not in the best situation imaginable…but okay. As long as no one learned I was here, that is.

I had to get down. But then the sky darkened; I was stuck. If I couldn’t get down in the daylight, there was no way on God’s green earth I was trying to do it in the dark. Especially since I couldn’t use my phone’s flashlight. I’d surely be spotted…right?

About the time I tried to start reaching for lower branches to try and get down, a thunderstorm rolled in. I had no choice but to take it one hand hold at a time. I had to go slow and steady.

It took me what felt like hours, and it truly could have been, to get down. I had to stop every so often, wrapping myself around the branches when the wind kicked up. I was sore, numb in places, and so tired. The canopy did a surprisingly great job of keeping some of the bad weather off of me. I’d even dozed a few times, my eyes opening only when Mother Nature got a little too out of control.

A few dozen limbs ago, I’d managed to drop my phone while checking for a signal. All I could do was listen to it as it bounced off limbs and slid through the leaves.

My hands were scraped, cut, and bleeding. My knees had taken a beating too. The pants I’d had on were not tree-climbing quality. I’d slipped once and missed an entire limb. My knee had broken the fall, and I was guessing it was a broken branch that had put a gash in my thigh. Nothing serious, I wasn’t on the verge of bleeding out, but I’d not be repeating this adventure. Ever.

I made myself as comfortable as I could under low hanging branches, waiting for the sun to come out. From the ground where I lay, I could now see all the way up the tree. The slowly brightening sky gave me a unique look at the life of a tree.

If this tree wasn’t every bit of sixty to sixty-five feet tall, I’d eat my shoe.

I sat up, groaning, and got to my feet. I needed to find my phone. It was in a yellow waterproof case, and thank God for that because I found it in the mud around the base edge of the tree.

I had no signal in this spot either. Great. Grumbling, I climbed out from under the trees. Car…where was my damn car? I turned, trying to see it from here. The crinkle of granola bar wrappers and empty water bottles in my pack had me looking harder.

I started walking. Stumbling on numb feet and cold joints. Some intuition had me take the memory card out of the camera last night. It was hidden in the back of the locket I wore. This piece had a picture of my kiddo in the front, a disguise of sorts.

I was glad I had because the sound of voices coming my way had my insides tightening. Was it the men from the junkyard? Had my brother come to look for me?

I wasn’t sure what to do. I ducked down, my knees putting me on my ass as pain radiated through them. I could feel a fresh wash of warmth on my thigh. My tan pants had fresh redness spreading across them. Tearing a sleeve off my T-shirt, I pulled it up over my foot and up my leg. My thighs were a lot bigger than my arms so the tight band, even though it hurt like the fires of hell, was a welcome comfort.

It added pressure as did my hand as I pressed down on it. Maybe it was deeper than I’d originally thought. Or all of the climbing I’d done reopened the wound before I got to the ground. Crawling under the tree to find my phone could have done it too. Just walking, flexing my muscles could have done it.

It could have been so many things. My priority right now was getting to my car and getting out of here before I was found. What explanation could I use if I were found?

It’s not like I could say, ‘Oh well, you see what had happened was, I was following a stranger into the junkyard.’ I’d either be judged or with my luck, I’d be caught out here, by someone from inside that junkyard. In which case, I’d be glad my life insurance was paid up.

People like that, the ones with no regard for life, they’re the ones that would put you down like a lame horse without a second thought.

Getting to my knees, I bit back the pain and took a deep, steadying breath. In and out. Each one calmed me a little more. It took a minute, but I was able to get back up on my feet. I stayed hunkered over, not wanting anyone to see me.

The voices got louder as I moved in a zigzag pattern. I’d seen the movies, read the books. Weave and wobble; a moving target is harder to hit. As I weaved and wobbled, I forgot to look at where my feet were going. There was a damn gopher hole, and my foot went right into it.

I went down like a sack of taters falling off the delivery truck. The yelp that escaped happened so fast, I had no time to stop myself. I laid there, tears burning my eyes. There was rustling of grass all around me. I covered my face, embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I’d not only let myself down, but now I was going to die in a field, and no one would know where I was.

Excited barking filled the air. A cold, wet nose snuffled at my ear and hands as I pulled them down.

If that wasn’t a shock, the face that soon filled my vision had my heart leaping. His face was drawn in worry, eyes burning as he reached for me.

Tripp Cavannagh was the last man I’d expected to find in the middle of nowhere, but damn, was I glad to see him.

Chapter 4

Tripp

With the help of the Sheriff’s Office, we were able to find out what kind of a case Casey was on.

My boy, Phoenix, who wears many hats like his old man, made a few calls to people he knew and got us even more information on the perp.

The asshole she was following was a real piece of work. His rap sheet was nothing compared to the list of charges he’d managed to skirt.

My mind raced with scenarios. The more I thought through them, the worse they got. We’d be too late to find her. She’d be dead. Her body mutilated, scavenged by animals; it would unrecognizable by the time we found her.

Talk about wanting to punch yourself in the head. Gabe’s grandson, the whiz kid, had been able to obtain her DMV information. Her car was a newer model that had a tracking/monitoring system in it. One of those I’d seen on TV but wouldn’t want in mine.

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