A few seconds later, she came to with a splitting headache. She heard shouting and the sound of footsteps racing past her.
“Stop!”
“Call the cops, Jon.”
“Give it up, man. Dude’s way gone. You’ll never catch up to him now.”
The voices didn’t make sense, just filtered into her consciousness.
And then quieter, nearly in her ear, “Are you okay?”
Tommy tried to sit up and felt woozy. The voices belonged to two college-age men also out for a jog judging by their running shorts, tennis shoes, and bare chests. One of them helped her sit up.
“Easy now. You got a good whack on the head.”
“What happened?” Tommy asked.
“Don’t know exactly. We came around the corner and saw this guy dragging you over to the bushes by your ankles.”
A chill ran through Tommy.
“Sorry we didn’t catch him. We yelled and he bolted. By the time we got close, he was long gone. My buddy over there called 911. The ambulance is on its way.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Tommy said, but her words were shaky.
The second guy arrived, holding something.
“Looks like your attacker left these. He won’t be getting very far.”
It was a set of car keys.