Ray studied the mountainside from the living room window as he waited for another telephone connection to Kobrin, Belarus. Ginger and the children had disappeared from sight no more than five minutes ago—soon after the amusing vision of Ginger’s fall in the mud.
He could barely think about anything except his last conversation with her. She must have been on target this morning when she suggested that he didn’t have the heart of a foreign missionary. He couldn’t understand why she felt such a strong urge to leave America, when there were so many in need within these borders.
So many in need. And he was one of them. He needed her in his life. Selfish of him to think that way, but right now he could focus on nothing else.
The call disconnected on him again, for the third time in the past fifteen minutes. Nothing seemed to work right today, least of all him. All he wanted was a good counterargument to convince Ginger to stay.
He put the receiver down, then on a whim picked it up and dialed the police in Poipu to see if Larry had arrived to identify their suspect.
The man he reached knew nothing about the capture. Once again, as Ray watched for a flash of color or movement on the mountainside, he waited until the operator could connect him to a supervisor who might know something.
It didn’t happen. He gripped the receiver, controlling his frustration with difficulty. “Sir, are you telling me there was no suspect apprehended that matched the description of Rick Fenrow, a prison escapee that Larry Bager warned the force about earlier today?”
“I’m sorry, but we’ve found no suspect.”
“Then is Larry Bager there yet? He received a call about an hour ago with that information, and he left our place here in Haena to drive to Poipu to identify the man being held.”
“I doubt he’s had time to get all the way to Poipu from Haena, so maybe that’s the problem. Must be some misunderstanding.”
“I’m not willing to settle for that,” Ray snapped. “We’ve got an escaped prisoner who might well be on the island. We have women and children in our group, and we need protection.” He gave their address and asked for a patrol car to come out.
The only misunderstanding Ray could see was that someone had called Larry about Rick Fenrow, and the information was false.
So who’d called Larry? And where was Fenrow if he hadn’t, after all, been apprehended?
Ray decided it was best to get everyone inside the house. Something was up. A madman was on the loose.
Ginger didn’t like the stranger’s sunglasses. Who wore sunglasses when hiking in the forest shadows?
She didn’t like the way he moved toward them, casual, yet watchful.
He had short blond hair and blond eyebrows, was slender and had a nice tan—or it appeared so in the diffused light of the setting sun.
“Fellow hikers, I see,” he called to them, stepping down the steep mountainside through a thicket of vines. He wasn’t on a trail. A pair of binoculars hung from a strap around his neck.
Lucy tugged on Ginger’s hand. “Aunt Ginger, let’s go back now.”
“No!” Brittany cried. “We haven’t reached the top of the mountain.”
“We’ll come back later.” Ginger drew the girls away as the man stepped close, her grip firm on a hand of each child. “Right now, I think I smell dinner grilling.” She gave the man a nod, turned around and started back down the trail.
“Did you say dinner?” He slid down the final few feet of the steep bank and landed in front of them, as if by accident.
That was when she knew.
“Would there be enough for one more person at the table?” He held out his arms. “I’m about starved, and so thirsty. There are a lot of little streams on this mountain, but you know how the forest service always warns you not to drink unpurified water, even here in beautiful Hawaii.”
“I have a bottle of water in my pack,” Ginger said, though she didn’t make a move for the pack. She didn’t want to let go of either of the girls’ hands. “We aren’t far from the highway. Where did you leave your vehicle?”
“Down at Ke’e Beach. I started walking the Napali Coastline Trail and got lost.” He shrugged and chuckled. “My wife always warns me not to go hiking unprepared.”
She glanced at his ring finger. Sure enough, there was a band. But there was also a streak of more deeply tanned skin around the edges of his palm. As if he’d applied some of that artificial tan with that hand, and had failed to remove the stain completely. She wondered what else was artificial. The blond hair, perhaps? The eyebrows?
Lucy tugged at her again. “Come on, Aunt Ginger, they’ll be waiting for us.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Brittany invited the man. “I’m Brittany. What’s your name?”
Ginger tried to step past him with the girls, but he blocked her with an awkward stumble that looked as if he were simply clumsy. He took a few steps backward, as if considering Brittany’s invitation. As if he intended to fall into step with them and accompany them down the trail. But he didn’t get out of their way, and he didn’t turn his back on them.
It took all Ginger’s control to continue to appear calm. Oh, Lord, please help us.
“My name’s Gary Richter,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Brittany.” He reached out as if to shake the child’s left hand.
Ginger refused to release her, even though Brittany tried to tug from her grip.
“Where are you from, Mr. Richter?” Ginger asked.
He didn’t reply. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses, but she sensed his muscles tensing. She knew this was Rick Fenrow and there would be no way to talk him into letting her and the girls leave.
“Lucy,” she said, without looking away from the man. “Remember how proud I was of you for what you did today?”
“Yes.” Lucy’s voice held the tightness of fear.
“That’s my girl.” She stepped toward Rick Fenrow, at the same time forcing the girls to step behind her. As soon as she felt Lucy reach out to grab her sister’s hand, Ginger released the girls and rushed at the man, bringing her elbows up, her arms protecting her face.
“Run, girls! Get away!” She brought her hiking boot down hard on Fenrow’s instep, then jerked up with her knee.
He blocked her, grunting with pain as he caught her arms. Brittany screamed. Fenrow grabbed Ginger’s throat with both hands.
She kicked him on the shin and tried to hit him in the solar plexus. He blocked, grunted again and stumbled forward.
From the side, she saw Lucy shove at him.
“No, Lucy, run! Now! Get—”
He grabbed Ginger’s hair, jerked her head back and then grabbed her throat and squeezed with painful cruelty.
She choked, trying to scream, gagging. Praying.
“You kids better stop or I’ll kill Aunt Ginger!” he shouted.
Ginger curled her arm forward, then shoved backward with her elbow. “Keep going, Lucy!”
The blow landed. The breath went out of him. His hold on her throat eased. Ginger hit him again, then shoved up and back with her fist. It connected with his nose. Once more, she jabbed with her elbow, then punched at his nose, and he stumbled back.
She wrenched away, fell to the ground, filled her hands with sandy dirt and rocks and slung the gravel into his face.
He cried out and spat, brushed at his face, spat again.
She picked up a thick fallen limb of a tree and smacked him over the head. The rotten limb broke in two. She tried to scream for help, but her throat wouldn’t work.
She looked for the girls, and saw Lucy leading Brittany through a thicket above the road. They were going the wrong way, not back to the house, but up, where the killer could cut them off.
Fenrow came after Ginger, silent with fury, his face coated with mud. She tried to turn and run, but he kicked her feet from under her. She landed with a thud on her side.
His hands found her throat once again, and his fingers tightened until she couldn’t breathe. He rammed her head against the ground, squeezed her throat even tighter, rammed her head again.
He showed no mercy.
The dark forest spun around her. The girls had to get away. They had to!
She couldn’t breathe. The forest spun faster, then went black.
Lucy couldn’t go down the mountain, so she ran up, dragging Brittany behind her through brush that scraped her arms and caught in her hair.
“Stay away from the mud,” she whispered to Brittany. “That way he can’t see where we went. Stay on the grass and leaves.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t look back, and don’t slow down. Aunt Ginger said for us to run.”
And so they ran.
Brittany stumbled on some loose rocks and cried out, but Lucy pulled her on. They had to get away. That was a bad man. Lucy knew it, but didn’t know how she knew. He didn’t look like Rick Fenrow, but she kept thinking about hair in bottles.
Brittany tripped again. Lucy stopped and looked back. He hadn’t followed them…yet. They were surrounded by bushes and tall grass, and the stickery plants Aunt Ginger had told them were blackberry briars.
“Where are we?” Brittany asked with a whine in her voice.
Lucy grabbed her and covered her mouth. “Be quiet,” she whispered, pulling her sister deeper into the thick bushes. “Be careful not to get caught in the stickers. Maybe he won’t find us here.”
Brittany scrambled in behind her. She knew how to be quiet. They both knew how to hide when someone dangerous was nearby. They were out of practice, but they knew.