Ominous, Page 3

  *

  Shiloh dragged herself from the water one step behind Katrina and gave her body a little shake as she made her way down the dock. Katrina stood in front of her, smoothing her dark hair back from her face, a sheen of water shining on her skin.

  “Finally,” Ruthie said. “I keep seeing something in the bushes.”

  “Take it easy.” Shiloh was stretching toward the sky, eyes closed, trying to rub the whole naked thing in Ruthie’s face, when she saw the flash of light. “What the hell was that?”

  “Lightning?” Katrina asked, wincing.

  Trying to peer deep into the darkness, Shiloh saw a movement, the dark shadow looming, stepping away from the undergrowth.

  What the hell?

  No way!

  But even as she was denying it, telling herself she was letting Ruthie’s stranger-danger fear get the better of her, the hairs on the back of her neck sprang to attention.

  A huge bear of a man rose from the scrub. A dark, moving shadow, he charged toward them. Shit!

  Fear sizzled down her spine.

  Panic gripped her soul.

  Who the hell was it?

  Why was he here?

  For no good reason.

  “Run!” she screamed as a flash of light burst before her eyes, blinding her. “Run!” She took off, stumbled, her heart racing as she scrambled over the shoreline and dived into the foliage. “Oof!” She hit the ground hard but pushed herself upright. She heard the other girls running, feet pounding, breathing hard. She blinked and scrambled for footing. The bastard must’ve had a flash camera. But she couldn’t worry about that.

  Run, run, run!

  Blood thundering in her ears, she raced barefoot through the foliage. Thorny branches scratched her legs. Leaves and limbs slapped her face. Still, she kept moving, plowing forward, adrenaline firing her blood. Faster and faster, her hands outstretched so that she didn’t run headlong into a tree.

  Who the hell was the voyeur in the woods?

  Her stepfather?

  She wouldn’t put it past Larimer Tate, that raving perv, to follow her out here. Inside she withered. Would he? Was he that much of a sicko? Had she stupidly lured her friends out here just so that he could … what? Take nudie pics? For what purpose? To leer at her image as he jacked off? Her stomach revolted at the thought.

  Faster! Faster! It didn’t matter who the creeper was or what his intentions were. She had to get away, put distance—miles, if possible—between him and herself. And her friends, she reminded herself. Katrina and Ruthie.

  Veering around a thicket of spruce, Shiloh picked up the pace, her eyes readjusting to the dim night, her long legs stretching with each stride as she found the wide path they’d used to get to the lake. Now, with moonlight giving her some visibility, she flew along the dirt trail, dry weeds brushing her ankles.

  Where were the other girls? Had they gotten away? Oh please …

  She nearly screamed when some lumbering creature, a skunk or porcupine or whatever, waddled across the path in front of her, but she kept going, all the while feeling its beady eyes watching her. Well, fine, she’d take her chances with the beast rather than whoever it was who had followed them out here.

  Her heart was pounding, her lungs beginning to ache. She stubbed her toe on a hidden root, but managed to keep her balance and keep running. Go! Go! Go! She heard footsteps pounding behind her, the rustle of branches being parted. Her heart leapt to her throat as she ran frantically. Whoever was chasing her was breathing hard, audibly.

  She didn’t even bother glancing over her shoulder, just shot forward.

  Was her pursuer the perv with the camera?

  Or his accomplice? Oh God, what if there were more than one of them?

  More than two?

  No, no, no! It could be Kat on her heels. Or even Ruthie.

  Please let it be one of the girls! she silently prayed and wondered fleetingly when was the last time she’d tried to talk to God. Ages. Months. Maybe even years.

  Who cared? Whoever was behind her was breathing hard, gasping. Gaining? Oh God!

  She spurred herself to run even faster, kicking up dust, feeling a warmth sliding along the bottom of her foot, her toe bleeding and aching. Still she ran, terror urging her forward, a slow-burning anger edging into her consciousness. What did that jerk-wad think he was doing, spying and taking pictures? What kind of creep does that? How did he even know they’d be there? Geez-God, was it Larimer? The guy was built like her hated stepfather, and she wouldn’t put it past the bastard. Oh great. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?

  “Jerk,” she muttered and spat as she ran, sprinting through the trees. She heard the creek tumbling over rocks before she saw it, a silver slash in the dappled movement. Without breaking stride, she splashed through the icy water and slipped a little on the muddy bank, her already stubbed toe hitting an exposed root.

  “Ouch!” Pain ricocheted up her foot. “Son of a bitch!” Just keep moving!

  Gritting her teeth, she pushed on, upward over the slippery edge and onto the dry earth again. Her strides lengthened, but she heard the sound of footsteps pounding the ground behind her.

  Was he gaining?

  Oh. Dear. God.

  Suddenly the aspens gave way to a clearing, a wide patch of grass and weeds, broken only by a few large boulders, huge huddling masses scattered in the dry field.

  Shiloh propelled herself to the back of the largest rock and gasped for breath. Only then did she remember that she was nude, sweating and breathing hard. Her clothes were where she’d left them on the bank of the damned lake.

  Idiot! Now what?

  She flopped back against the rough boulder and tried to regain her wits as she heard the footsteps again. Fast. Wild. Oh Jesus. Squinting, pulse pounding in her ears, she dared to peer around the sharp edge of the stone to spy another person flying from the woods.

  But not a man. A smaller woman, running as if Lucifer himself were on her tail.

  Katrina!

  “Kat!” Shiloh stage-whispered, and her friend, also still naked, looked sharply in her direction “Over here!”

  Kat veered toward the boulder, sliding to a stop behind it, nearly crashing into Shiloh. “What the hell was that?” she rasped, gulping for air. “Was that sick freak out here with a camera?”

  “At least it wasn’t a gun.”

  Katrina bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Not that we saw. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t see much. That damned flash!” Still drawing in air, she peered into the darkness. “Where’s Ruthie?”

  “I don’t know. Haven’t seen her.” Or heard her either. Once Katrina appeared from the woods, the sounds of footsteps and something crashing through the undergrowth had stopped. “Maybe she ran the other way.”

  “The other way was the lake,” Katrina reminded, an edge to her voice.

  “Then she could’ve stopped to grab her clothes—”

  “I don’t think so. Damn it!”

  “Shhh. Listen.” Shiloh was straining to hear something, anything to indicate that the other girl was bearing down on them, ready to burst from the forest flanking this field. She found herself rooting for the girl she’d so recently thought of as a wimp or a baby. Come on, Ruthie. Come on. Just show up. Please!

  “He’s got her,” Kat said, voicing Shiloh’s worst fears.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “But it’s a pretty good guess.” She shook her head.

  “She could’ve angled off …”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Kat straightened and swore. “I should’ve brought my cell phone.”

  Kat was the only girl of the three who had a mobile flip phone.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I just didn’t. Look, we have to go back.”

  “Are you crazy.”

  “We can’t just leave her out here. With that maniac.”

  Shiloh wanted to argue. “I know, but
you don’t know that she’s not safe.”

  “You want to take a chance?”

  Shiloh shook her head. “No.”

  “Then we have to go back,” Katrina repeated.

  Before Shiloh could argue, a raw, terrified scream tore from the quaking aspens and pine trees.

  “Oh Jesus. Ruthie!” Katrina started sprinting back the way she’d come, heading for the opening in the dark forest from which they’d both just emerged.

  “Damn it,” Shiloh growled out and was right on the shorter girl’s heels. No way could Katrina handle the guy alone. No doubt Ruthie would be of little help.

  Her toe throbbing, she chased Katrina along the path and through the creek back toward the lake. While she ran after Kat, she played out the scene they were sure to find: Ruthie being mauled or raped or tortured or killed by the psycho with the camera. Shit!

  Unless the guy had been scared off by Ruthie’s scream. Maybe he’d taken the picture and left before anyone showed up.

  Oh, please.

  As they neared the lake, Katrina slowed and motioned for Shiloh to move off to the side, to split up so that they could approach from different angles. Shiloh eased away from Kat, taking a small spur in the trail, one that opened up to the lake twenty yards beyond the dock area. Her heart was a jackhammer in her chest as she reached down and scraped up a rock she found on the trail. About the size of a baseball, it was rough against her palm—heavy, and the only weapon she could find.

  After the one bloodcurdling scream, she’d heard nothing. No, that wasn’t quite right; there was another noise, deep-throated grunts, the kind of rutting noises she’d heard through the paper-thin walls of the house where she lived. Oh God. Without another thought about her safety, she stepped from the foliage. “Stop!” she bellowed, spying the huge bear of a man, his pants at his ankles, lying atop a wan, unmoving Ruthie. “You son of a bitch, stop right there!”

  “Wha–?” He looked up, his eyes zeroing in on Shiloh as she hoisted the rock high. God, who the hell was he? With the dark ski mask on his head, the only features she could make out were his body type and his beady, cold eyes.

  He rolled off her and onto his feet in one motion. Ruthie whimpered. Only then did Shiloh see the knife, a curved blade winking evilly in the darkness.

  “Oh Jesus,” she said under her breath, and this time it was a prayer.

  “Whatcha got there, girlie?” he asked with a sneer. “A pebble?” Waggling the knife, he laughed, a cruel guttural sound that was eerily familiar, as if Shiloh had heard it before. But where? When? Who the hell was he? “You think yer gonna hit me with that itty-bitty rock? Go ahead and try.”

  Amen to that! Without waiting a second, Shiloh hurled the stone with all the force she could muster. The rock hissed through the air, straight as an arrow, and hit the bastard square on the forehead.

  Thwack.

  The blow knocked him to his knees. He sputtered, tried to scramble to his feet, but his pants were like shackles around his ankles, and Katrina flew from her hiding place, a stick in her hand. “You sick bastard,” she cried and whacked him hard on the back of the head.

  Craaaack!

  The dry branch splintered in her hands.

  Groaning, he fell forward.

  His face landed on the dry ground.

  Thud!

  “Let’s go!” Shiloh yelled and raced for Ruthie.

  “Oh Jesus. Are you okay?” Throwing herself onto her knees beside the stricken girl, she felt renewed panic. Ruthie lay staring upward at the sky, her eyes wide open, her expression blank. “Ruthie!” The girl was nearly catatonic. “Ruthie! Come on. We gotta get out of here!” She pulled on her arm.

  Nothing. It was as if Ruthie’s bones had melted, her arm going slack.

  “For the love of God, move it!” Shiloh ordered.

  “Let me.” Katrina was at her side. “Ruth. Come on, honey. It’s all right.”

  A low moan from the lump nearby indicated that no, they hadn’t killed the bastard. At least not yet.

  “Get his knife,” Katrina ordered Shiloh. “And our clothes.” She was forcing Ruthie to her feet. “Come on, honey, we have to leave. Now!”

  Ruthie wasn’t arguing, but she wasn’t actively helping.

  Shiloh tried to pick up the knife, but the guy moved, his fingers finding the hilt. With a roar, he lunged upward, the blade whispering against her calf, and Shiloh reacted, kicking his face, smashing his nose, and hoping to hell that she’d killed the bastard. Who the hell was he? Not Tate, she knew that much, but the features of his face, deep in shadow and covered with the ski mask and shaggy hair, were undefined.

  “Come on!” Katrina ordered. She had Ruthie on her feet but was half dragging her to the trail.

  Shiloh ran to the dock to snag their bundles of clothes and silently cursed the fact that she hadn’t been able to grab the bastard’s weapon or his camera. Her leg throbbed from the gash he’d made with the knife. She could feel blood running from the wound, but she ignored the pain.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” she asked, catching up with the other two, something, a bra or panties, flying from the pile of clothes she’d tucked under her arm.

  “At home, remember?”

  “Great.”

  “We’ll find a house,” Kat said.

  “Out here?”

  “There’s got to be one. A farm. A ranch. Something.”

  “We just have to get to the truck.” Which, of course, was parked half a mile away on the nearest stretch of road to the lake. “Come on. Run!”

  Ruthie’s legs began to move of their own accord, thankfully, but Shiloh was forever looking over her shoulder, certain the assailant would reappear. Terror drove her forward. She didn’t want to ever see that bastard again.

  “I can’t,” Ruthie finally said, and Shiloh took it as a good sign. At least she was talking; at least she was turning back into the naysayer she was.

  “Sure you can,” Kat encouraged as they hurried along the path.

  “I—I need my clothes.” It was as if Ruthie had just realized they were naked.

  “Shiloh’s got them.”

  Only some of them, Shiloh thought. She’d dropped some things in the race to leave the bastard behind. But she kept her thoughts to herself and prayed that she at least had her cutoffs and the keys to the truck in the pocket. If they didn’t have the keys, what then? She kind of knew how to hot-wire a car, had seen it done a couple of times, but out here in the middle of the night? Oh no, she couldn’t think of that now. “Just move it!” Dear God, did she hear someone lumbering in the woods behind them? She grabbed Ruthie’s arm and propelled her forward, dropping another article of clothing in the process.

  Into the clearing they ran, past the boulders, toward the far end of the small canyon where the truck was parked. Shiloh’s lungs were beginning to burn, her heart thudding, and beside her, Ruthie was gasping for breath.

  “I can’t … I just can’t,” Ruthie rasped.

  If the poor girl hadn’t just been through a horrid trauma, Shiloh would have stopped in her tracks and shaken some sense into her. Instead, she said, “Sure you can, Ruthie, we’re almost there.” That was a lie. The old Dodge was more than a quarter of a mile away, but Shiloh wasn’t going to admit it. Not now.

  “That’s right. Come on,” Katrina encouraged as yet another piece of clothing—a blouse?—slid out of Shiloh’s arms. Damn it, she was leaving a trail for the psycho if he was chasing them, the scraps of apparel just like the breadcrumbs for Hansel and Gretel.

  “I—I can’t go home,” Ruthie said.

  “What?” Shiloh kept running, pulling her. “We sure as hell can’t stay here.”

  “My dad will kill me.”

  “He’s not the one I’m worried about.” Shiloh hazarded a glance over her shoulder, and her blood turned to ice. She thought she saw something, big and dark, running after them, cutting between the boulders. “Hurry!” Spurred on, she pulled Ruthie with her. “He’s coming.”
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br />   “Noooo!” Ruthie wailed, but suddenly she began to run in earnest, her speed surprising Shiloh. She let go, as did Katrina. Separately, they flew across the dry Wyoming grass and weeds, the palest of moonlight guiding them.

  Faster, faster, faster! Shiloh was in the lead, the other girls close behind. She saw the truck at the end of the trail, and her heart soared. They could make it. They could! “Come on!” she cried and another piece of clothing fell. Damn! Holding their precious garments to her chest, she was gasping, her lungs burning, her leg throbbing and bleeding, her feet bloodied by the time she reached the old Dodge parked in an open field. All of the clothes tumbled from her arms and onto the ground as she grappled with the door handle. “Crap!” With a groan of old metal that rubbed in all the wrong spots, the door lurched open. Then she dropped to the hardpan and, scrabbling frantically, searched through the bras, undies, and blouses, throwing them onto the front seat until she found her cutoffs.

  “Yes,” she whispered under her breath and yanked on the pair of frayed shorts, then reached into her pocket.

  Nothing.

  What? No!

  Katrina and Ruthie appeared.

  “Get in,” Shiloh ordered.

  “But our clothes …” Ruthie began.

  “Are inside. Just get in!” she yelled, freaking out. The keys! Where were the damned keys? She searched her pockets again.

  Empty. No!

  And then she saw him. Emerging from the darkness. Running at them.

  Christ! Now what.

  Ruthie screamed as she scrambled into the truck.

  Oh God, oh God!

  “Shiloh! Hurry!” Katrina, usually calm, sounded panicked.

  “Get the flashlight. In the glove box!” Shiloh said. “Now!”

  “But—”

  “I dropped the flippin’ keys!”

  “No!” Ruthie’s voice was high and screeching. “Shiloh, no! He’s coming! Oh no, no, no!”

  “Shhh!” Katrina hissed.

  Shiloh scoured the ground frantically on her hands and knees, thinking the damned keys fell out when she’d dropped the rest of the clothes. She raked her fingers through the dry grass and dirt. A fingernail broke and something sharp poked her palm, but she didn’t give up. Come on, come on, they have to be here! They have to!