Page 89 of Philly
“My name is Callie Parks,” she told the couple. “When the police get here, make sure to tell Chief Warwick,” she said, then took off toward the trail.
“Gabriel,” she said, holding the phone to her ear as she jogged along the uneven ground. The darkness and shadows slowed her down—as did her aching ribs—but they’d slow Aiden, too.
“Callie! Are you?—”
“I’m banged up, but okay,” she said, her eyes darting between the forest and the trail. She had no wish to trip and take another tumble, but she also didn’t want to risk missing a sighting of Nolan.
“I’m on my way. So are the others,” Gabriel said, the rumbling engine of his car audible in the background. The housemight be fifteen minutes from the pizza parlor, but she’d bet he’d make it in nine.
“I’m following him,” she said, then added, “It was Aiden himself. He didn’t send someone this time.” Her words came out in staccato bursts. The slow run should have been easy, but the fight had taken more out of her than she’d admit.
“Don’t, Callie,” Gabriel said.
She didn’t bother responding. “I think his car is in the lot, close to mine. Two people came to my aid, and they must have cut him off from an easy exit. Tell the police.” A small branch snapped ahead of her, and she picked up her speed.
“Callie—”
“I’m headed into the woods after him, Gabe. You can track me on your phone.” They’d turned on that feature in Utah and hadn’t bothered to turn it off.
He growled. “Tell me you’re armed,” he said, making no effort to hide his displeasure with her choice.
“No gun, but I have a knife,” she answered.
“Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s not a gunfight, then,” he muttered. “Do not do anything stupid, woman. And by stupid, I mean anything that will take you away from me. I’m a selfish bastard, and I want lots of years with you.”
Despite the situation, she smiled. “We’re on the same page, Gabe. I’ll leave the call connected, but I’m putting the phone in my pocket. I love you.”
“Love me enough to make sure you make it back to our bed tonight safe and sound.”
“No place I’d rather be,” she managed to say through her uneven breaths before slipping the device into her pocket and focusing on the task at hand.
She had the advantage of tennis shoes rather than dress shoes, and while her body was battered, so was Aiden’s. She wasalso a runner. If nothing else, she’d pull a Muhammad Ali and wait for Aiden to tire himself out before going on the attack.
Keeping her steps as light as possible, she picked up her pace and tuned her ears for any signs that he’d left the trail. Other than her breaths and the soft thud of her feet hitting the packed dirt, the night remained quiet. No crashing through the underbrush or sudden exodus of startled animals. Just her and the pale brown path winding its way through the dark forest, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the tall pines.
With her senses alert to every noise and sight, she focused on her prey. Fifty strides passed before she caught her first glimpse of him since she’d headed into the woods. A flash of his pale skin against the shadows of the forests.
She grinned. Neither of them knew these woods, but she had allies. Allies that could track her. Allies thatdidknow the area—every inch of it. All she had to do was stick near Aiden. All she had to do was keep him in sight and tonight, his reign of corruption and predation would come to an end.
Her ribs ached, but she’d found her breath and fell into a rhythm. Ahead of her, Aiden faltered. He didn’t stop, but his steps slowed, and he stumbled every few strides. Intentionally, she fell back. The more he winded himself, the more tired he got, the easier quarry he’d be.
“Fuck!” The shout echoed through the forest, and several birds took flight from nearby trees. For being a sixty-four-year-old businessman, she would have expected a more interesting vocabulary.
Unsure what caused his outburst and erring on the side of caution, she slowed even more. When she drew close enough to hear Aiden’s labored breathing, harsh and unnatural, courtesy of the broken nose she’d given him, she dropped to a walk.
Rounding the next bend, she paused, her gaze sweeping the area from the safety of the tree line. They’d run out onto a point.Onto a point that ended in a cliff on three sides. The only way back was the way they’d come. Or over the edge.
She smiled. Judging by Aiden’s reaction—and the distant rush of whitewater rapids—she’d wager that a trip over the ledge to the river below wasn’t survivable.
Dropping down, she slid the knife from her ankle holder, then stepped out of the woods.
Her target turned to face her. His fury now fear.
“Hello, Aiden,” she said. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
47
Slowly, Aiden’s fear morphed into bravado. The transformation about as convincing as when a politician says, “Trust me.” She’d go with it, though. Let him think she believed he wasn’t worried, that he knew something she didn’t. Although she did have to fight a smile at that, because there was so much she knew that he didn’t—most importantly, that she wasn’t alone. Her backup might not be in the shadows behind her yet, but they would be. Between Gabriel, the Falcons, HICC, and the Mystery Lake PD, she had zero doubts.
