Page 5 of Final Escape
Logan lifted a hand in reply, and she waved as she turned to go back inside.
There were good reasons for getting back on the road, and now a new one had just moved into the apartment above the rafting office.
Sweet, perky, with an infectious smile and an endearing hint of vulnerability, Carrie reminded him of Janie, his girlfriend through high school and college, and he could almost envy the kids who were going to be in Carrie’s classroom every day.
Penny followed his glance at the balcony, then angled an amused smile at him. “This is sure going to be an interesting summer.”
He leveled an impatient look at her. “Don’t you have something important to do?”
“Nope. Seriously, it’s time you got on with your life. Just because things didn’t work out with Lorena shouldn’t be reason to end up a hermit.”
“A hermit,” he retorted.
“Well, nearly.” Penny’s eyes danced. “You’re already thirty-three, so old age is just around the corner. It’s time to move on.”
Even after two years, Penny wanted to comfort him over the failed relationship with his longtime girlfriend, but long before that—when Penny had been too young to fully understand what was going on—he’d had a far bigger loss. Part of him had died with Janie the day a semi T-boned her car, and he’d never been the same.
Maybe Lorena was right.
Maybe his past had turned him into just another emotionless, thoughtless guy who wasn’t capable of commitment. But at least that way, he didn’t ever risk breaking the remnants of his heart.
* * *
THE LAST RAYS OF SUNSHINEwere slicing through the mountains to the west when Carrie finally finished putting away her clothes and arranging her possessions. Logan and his sister had left an hour ago, after stopping in to make sure she was settling in, and they’d also made sure that she had their cell numbers and the home number of their aunt Betty who lived in town.
Nice people, both of them. At least on the surface.Or were they?
Her stomach tensed into a tight ball of anxiety once again, because she still could not set aside that brief conversation with the deputy in town. There had beendistastein his expression when she’d announced her destination—far more than she might have expected if he just felt concern about a woman alone coming to this isolated place.
She shook off her doubts with a heavenward glance.
She’d prayed long and hard about the decision to come to this town. It was time to reestablish her independence and her career. She’d done the right thing, and worrying was a waste of time. But still...
Harley, curled up on the back of the sofa, opened one eye and looked at her, then went back to sleep, clearly unconcerned. “Adogwould care,” she said drily, stroking his soft fur. “He’d come and sit by me and offer moral support.”
A deep rumble vibrated through the old cat’s body—more junkyard engine than purr—letting her know that at least the most important creature in the room was content. Smiling to herself, she stepped out onto the balcony and braced her hands on the railing to lean out into the fresh, sweet pine-scented mountain air.
The rushing sounds of the Wolf River beckoned. Not more than a dozen yards from her new home, its closest bank offered an easy slope for beaching rafts. Even here, she could smell the water and damp earth. The water, now ink-black in the deepening twilight, brought back such good memories of her college summers...
Drawn to its wild beauty, she went down the outside stairs and took a few steps toward the river. The sound of a twig snapping jerked her to a halt as an invisible hand of fear grabbed at her shoulder. Prickles of awareness at the back of her neck escalated to absolute certainty. She was not alone.
Someone was here. Very, very close.
She could sense his eyes burning into her back.
Hear his breathing.
She could feel his heartbeat, pounding in cadence with her own.Oh, Lord—I could really use Your help here.
Stifling a cry, she whirled and flew up the stairs, flung open the door and slammed it shut as soon as she made it inside. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her lungs burned as she drove the dead bolt home, shoved the sofa against the door, then locked all the windows and pulled the shades.
No footsteps crept up the stairs.
Nothing was moving outside when she surreptitiously peeked through all of her windows. “Just my overactive imagination,” she chastised herself aloud. “And next, I’ll be afraid of dust bunnies.” Maybe her “stalker” had just been a coyote, frozen in place at her unexpected appearance. Or a menacing chipmunk.
She’d finally talked herself down from that shaking, adrenaline-laced moment of fear when the cell phone clutched in her damp palm started to sing the first tinny notes of “Beer Barrel Polka.” The screen listed only Unavailable Number and no name, so it wasn’t anyone listed in her phonebook.
She stared at the phone, hesitated, then lifted it to her ear and said hello.
