Page 4 of Mountain Hero

Once he’s gone, all I do is tremble for a few seconds. Tears threaten. My chest aches with the emotions swelling up inside me—fear, desperate hope, guilt, and despair.

What am I going to do?

I could still try to run. Out here, with all the woods around, I might make it to a house before Thomas could find me. I might be able to get to the police before he or his friends come after me. I could call my aunt and warn her.

But…

If I run, I leave the store to ruin. Someone’s livelihood, gone. Stolen. Destroyed.

And it’s not just anyone. I know who owns Rossi’s Outfitters. Enzo.

I met him; back before everything went bad. I was excited about being back in Vermont, being in the Green Mountains, so I stopped into his store to get some hiking gear. We spent a good fifteen minutes talking before he was pulled away by another customer, all about the best trails and times to hike and how I was enjoying living in Bliss. I went back again, after I ended things with Thomas, and we talked even longer that time.

I liked Enzo. He was nice. Handsome. Patient. Quietly funny. Before I left the store, I even thought he might ask me out. And despite my newly-formed vow to stay single for a while, I think I might have said yes if he asked.

He didn’t, but that doesn’t change how I feel about him. He’s a good guy. Nothing like Thomas. He recently left the Army—that came up during our second conversation—and he’s trying to build a new life in Vermont, just like me. And he mentioned how the store belonged to his uncle, who passed away a year ago, and how much it means to him.

And now Thomas wants to destroy it.

It would be terrible if it happened to anyone. But Enzo? To lose the last connection he has with his beloved uncle? To hurt this man who just wants to live a peaceful life in Bliss after his years of service? It’s unthinkable.

There isn’t really a choice.

This could end horribly for me, but at least I’ll be doing the right thing.

So I wait another minute, hopefully giving Thomas enough time to get inside the building. Then I slip from the car and sprint toward the store.

As I run, I try to cobble together a plan. There’s probably not a security system—I don’t remember seeing one—and if there is, Thomas must have a way to bypass it.

Is there a phone inside? A landline? I didn’t have one at my house, but don’t most stores have one? For payments or customer service or if the cell reception is bad?

Please. Let there be a phone. I’m not sure what else to do if there isn’t one.

I dash around the back of the store and immediately see the door Thomas used to get inside. It’s not even latched, sitting a few inches ajar. Which is good for me—less noise as I move into the back of the store.

My heart is beating so loudly I have a moment’s panic that Thomas will hear it. He’ll hear my heart and find me and this all will be for nothing. I’ll be punished, my aunt might be hurt, and Enzo’s store will still be destroyed.

Oh, please.

As I make my way through the back of the store, down a narrow hallway lined with several closed doors, I can hear Thomas in the front, muttering and chuckling to himself. Something heavy hits the ground.

I try each door, holding my breath every time. The first is a storage closet, the next a small bathroom. There are only two doors left, and I’m praying one of them is an office, hopefully with a phone inside it. If there’s a phone in the front by the register, I’m out of luck.

At the third door, I find it. A small office, decorated simply—just a desk and worn office chair, some metal file cabinets, and a few framed photos on the walls.

And a phone.

My legs go weak in relief.

I just need to call 911 and somehow keep Thomas from burning the place down before the police get here.

With a shaking hand, I lift the receiver and dial 911. When the operator answers, my whispered words come out in a rush, “I’m at Rossi’s Outfitters. There’s a robbery in progress. He’s going to burn it down. Get the police here quickly. Please.”

The operator is still talking, but I can’t hear her voice past the rushing pulse in my ears. Finally, I hear a faint, “They’re on their way, ma’am. Can you give me your name?”

But I’ve already made enough noise. “Please hurry,” I whisper, and end the call.

How long will it take them to get here? Do I go out there and try to distract him?

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