Susan hesitated at the park entrance. The place looked gray and ominous, and she almost turned back. As she climbed over a bank, a cutting chill swept through her.
The presence.
She headed in but stopped short. Ahead, children were bolting for the hills, several adults trailing after them. Some were shouting. All told, perhaps fifty or so had gravitated to a single area. Still more followed, and the din of their voices burst into cheers.
What’s going on?
But she knew.
Kelan had jumped—
The din grew in waves—applause—as the crowd deepened.
—and he’d made it.
Determined, she pressed on, angry with her son for doing something so utterly stupid. But she was furious with herself for not watching him more closely. She barely made five yards before that stabbing cold came again, and she slid into a crippling shiver. Her head dizzied. She staggered back before slipping to her knees.
Behind her, a vehicle rolled up the street. She turned and saw a white Explorer, a police SUV, stop at the corner.
Susan rose quickly, the blood rushing to her head. She felt sluggish as she brushed herself off. She gathered herself and made a second effort toward the hills.
A knot of pain twisted inside her. She struggled to keep going but something drove her back; it struck her like a wall of will. She grew weaker, her strength sapped, as if something were bleeding her of life. Her eyes rolled as the cheers fell, and the last thing she heard was the dull thud of a car door as she slipped into the snow.
“Ma’am?”
Susan thought she heard a voice. It came again, closer, and her eyes fell shut. She lay there, dizzy, nearly slipping out of consciousness. When a warm hand touched her cheek, she opened her eyes.
A state trooper knelt beside her. His winter hat had thick piled flaps that covered his ears. “Are you all right?”
Susan couldn’t answer; she didn’t know if she was. Her head swam. Her arms and legs were dead weights. She struggled to rise.
“Easy, ma’am.”
Susan stirred, waiting for her head to clear. When it did, the trooper met her with full blue eyes and a warm, sensual smile. Kelan, she started to say, but then the officer shivered. And now he was looking all around him. As if he had heard something. Felt something.
He turned to her. “Can you sit up?”
Susan tried, but couldn’t.
“Maybe we should get you to a doctor,” he said, helping her.
“No. I’m fine. Really. Just a little dizzy.”
“You need a lift home?”
“No … thank you. I have to get my son.”
“Is he here? I can get him for you.”
“I can manage.”
He helped her to her feet. She wanted to ask what he’d felt, but to raise the issue would have brought questions she cared not to answer. She had to wonder if anyone else in the park had felt it.
A boisterous cheer erupted as a small group headed their way. Susan saw that awful Kovacs boy steaming off in a huff, his toadies in tow. But another boy—his bright orange toque was unmistakable—stood front and center in the adoring crowd. His snowboard was tucked under his arm. His beaming grin was undeniable.
Susan shuddered. The little bugger had done it.
She could try to ground him (and oh how she would, for the rest of his life), but the fact was, she couldn’t keep her eye on him twenty-four hours a day. Kelan was shy and reclusive, but looking at him now, King of the World in front of all these kids, how could she counter this? That hill consumed him. Had a hold on him she could never hope to understand.
“That’s him,” she said to the trooper. “The one they’re making such a fuss over.”
“Popular guy.”
“Apparently.”
The trooper gave her a look.
“I’d better get him,” she said.
He agreed with a nod and took a lasting look around the park. This time, Susan nearly asked if he’d felt something, but thanked him again instead. She watched him head back to his vehicle.
She started on her way and her stomach rolled. Her knees caved, and she heard the officer coming up behind her. She held her gut and fell. Her arms and legs grew heavy again. The harder she tried to move, the harder it was to try.
“The hospital’s not far,” the trooper said, helping her up.
“No … I’ll be fine. But maybe you can get us home.”
The trooper assisted her to the vehicle and into the passenger seat. “What’s your boy’s name?”
“Kelan. Kelan Lisk.”
“You gonna be okay? You’re awfully pale.”
Susan nodded weakly.
The officer closed the door, and when he returned, helped Kelan into the back. He laid the snowboard at Kelan’s side before taking the wheel.
Susan glared at her son and turned back to face the road. The trooper drove them to her house with few words, she giving directions, he obliging. When they arrived, she opened the front door and handed Kelan a curt Get to your room. Kelan slipped inside after putting his snowboard in the garage.
“Quite the adventurer,” the cop said, from the foot of her stoop. He gave Susan a look. “Do you know what he did?”
“I know.”
“Has he done this before?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
The officer agreed, nodding. “I just hope he got a helluva scare over it. I know I would.”
“Me, too,” she said, and then they both chuckled.
“Right now, he’s probably changing his undershorts.”
Susan laughed mildly. The truth was, she was reeling. Right now, Kelan was most likely planning his next jaunt down that hill. The very thought chilled her.
“Seriously though,” the officer said, “maybe you and your husband should have a chat with him.”
“I … I will.”
“Ma’am?”
“He hasn’t got a father. He died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no … it’s all right.”
“Seems like a tough little guy.”
“Well, that tough little guy is in deep hot water.”
“I could talk to him if you’d like.”
Susan declined politely. “But thank you for asking. And for all your trouble.”
“No trouble,” the trooper said.
Susan thought he might simply turn and head back to the Explorer, but instead, he did something that made her stir. He gazed up the street. He seemed unsettled. As if he were looking for the ghost that had just whisked past him.
“Is anything wrong, officer?”
The cop turned for a moment, his attention drawn down the street. The park. “Nothing,” he said finally, unconvincingly. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll live.” Susan heard the uneasiness in his voice. She was certain he had just sensed the presence. She did.
The officer nodded, and then headed back to his SUV. Before he got in, Susan spoke up. She didn’t know why—well, she did—she just couldn’t believe that she had. Susan, she had said, hopefully.
“Ma’am?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said. “Save the ma’am for some little old lady.”
The cop smiled, almost impishly. “Mark Pedersen.”
“Mark. That was my father’s name.”
A grin escaped Mark Pedersen as he slipped into the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. He came about in a U-turn and flashed the overhead lights as he drove past.
Susan smiled and returned a short wave. As she turned to go in, she stopped cold.
The Peeper was staring from her bay window.