Page 126 of This Heart Of Mine (Chicago Stars 5)

“At camp we were taught to wear a whistle around our neck if we went walking alone. Since I didn’t have a whistle…”

“You took a cell phone.”

“Safety first.”

“God bless the power of telecommunications.” He went back to the refrigerator for some cheese. “And now you’re lost. Have you looked for moss on the tree trunks?”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“It grows on the north side.” He began to assemble his sandwich, enjoying himself for the first time all evening.

“Yes, I believe I remember hearing that. But it’s a little dark to see.”

“I don’t suppose you tucked a compass in your pocket, or a flashlight?”

“That didn’t occur to me.”

“Too bad.” He slapped on some extra mustard. “You want me to come look for you?”

“I’d really appreciate it. If you bring your phone along, I might be able to direct you. I started out on the path behind Jacob’s Ladder.”

“That’d be a good place for me to start then. Tell you what—I’ll call you from there.”

“It’s getting dark fast. Would you mind hurrying?”

“Oh, sure, I’ll be there before you know it.” He disconnected, chuckled, and settled down to enjoy his sandwich, but he’d barely managed three bites before she called back. “Yeah?”

“Did I tell you I might have sprained my ankle?”

“Oh, no. How’d you do that?”

“Some kind of animal hole.”

“Hope it’s not from a snake. There are some rattlers around here.”

“Rattlers?”

He reached for a napkin. “I’m walking by Jacob’s Ladder right now, but somebody must be running a microwave, because I’m getting interference. I’ll call you back.”

“Wait, you don’t have my num—”

He disconnected, gave a whoop of laughter, and headed for the refrigerator. A sandwich always tasted better with beer. He whistled to himself as he popped the cap and settled back to enjoy.

Then it struck him. What the hell was he doing?

He snatched up his cell phone and punched in Phoebe’s number from memory. There’d be plenty of time later to teach her a lesson. This was the first chance he’d had in two days to get her alone. “Hey, Molly?”

“Yes.”

“I’m having a little trouble finding you.” He tucked the phone under his chin, grabbed the beer, along with what was left of his sandwich, and headed out the back door. “Do you think you could scream?”

“You want me to scream?”

“It’d be helpful.” He took another bite of sandwich and hurried toward Jacob’s Ladder.

“I’m not really much of a screamer.”

“You are in bed,” he pointed out.

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