Jake trudged along behind Aimee. The afternoon was dark and cold, but peaceful.
But it wouldn’t be for long.
He looked up at the sky where more clouds had gathered in the last thirty minutes. They hung fat and low over the mountain tops, promising to dump more snow than the weather forecasters had promised the day before. It made for a good winter—lots of skiing for the neighboring resort towns, and lots of snow pack for the spring thaw. But it also made for dangerous conditions this far up.
His gaze fell again to linger on Aimee’s backside. Even with the heavy winter clothes, he could clearly make out her long, athletic legs, her shapely ass, and the way her hips moved below the jacket. And his groin tightened accordingly.
He forced himself to look away. If he kept this up, he might have to convince her to duck behind a tree or something, and it was way too cold for that.
“You do this often?” she asked without turning.
“Used to.”
The long answer to that, of course, was that he used to with Lizzie. Now, it was the last thing he wanted to do. But he’d been forcing himself, to try and revive the man he once was. For Daniel, for himself, but also for Aimee. That guy had been adventurous, fun to be around. That guy didn’t have nightmares about his dead wife calling out from a cave where she’d just been dragged by a werewolf.
He ground his teeth together. Werewolf. He usually didn’t allow himself to form the word. Images popped up in his brain every now and then, especially after Daniel had one of his ‘wolfman’ dreams. But Jake had been careful to keep the actual thought at bay. At least until today, when Aimee had discovered his grandfather’s book.
God. If he had a nickel for every time someone had asked him if he believed in that damn legend. What was he supposed to say? Yes. No. Maybe.
The truth was his grandfather had done more than just research the folklore around Wolfe Creek. One summer, he confided that he’d actually seen a werewolf with his own eyes. Jake had been a teenager then, and most of the stories his granddad told were fairly unbelievable anyway. Legend or no, most of them seemed to be variations of the old I walked five miles to school…with no shoes…one way.
But the werewolf story, that one had been different. It clung to Jake’s subconscious even now, all these years later.
“My feet are numb,” Aimee said over her shoulder. “So are my hands.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Mmm. And when will that be?”
“It usually goes away in a few hours. You know…when we’re done.”
“Smart-ass.”
They kept on walking, making good time in the snowshoes. Jake wanted to take her to a meadow farther up, which had a spectacular view of Pike’s Peak and the valley below. It wasn’t uncommon to pass other people out cross-country skiing or hiking along this popular and well-traveled trail. But today, nothing. The woods around them were as still as they’d ever been. Even the birds and small animals were especially quiet. Maybe they sensed the impending storm and were hunkered down to ride it out.
Up ahead, Aimee came to a stop and bent to adjust her snowshoe. When she straightened, she cocked her head as if listening to something.
“What?” he said.
After a few seconds, she shrugged and smiled over her shoulder. “Nothing. How much longer?”
“Only a half hour. If that. We’re almost there.”
“Have I ever mentioned that I’m not the athletic type?”
He stared at her back. That’s not what your body says. Well-muscled, firm, lean. If he’d had to guess, he would have pegged her for some kind of runner. And even though he knew she didn’t prefer to be on the snowshoes, she seemed at ease on them, as if she were used to holding her own when it came to anything physically strenuous.
“No?” he said.
“No.”
“I guess that means bungee jumping is off the table.”
“It was never on the table.”
They began walking again, crunching over the snowy trail where a few small animal tracks led the way.
Jake kept waiting to feel more at ease, more comfortable being out there, but it wouldn’t come. With every step they took, he had to keep reminding himself why he was doing this. Peace, he thought. He needed some peace again. To love these woods like he had before.
But as a sudden gust of wind blew through the pine boughs above, he got an ominous chill. Stopping in his tracks, he looked around.
“What is it?” Aimee had stopped too, and eyed him from about ten feet up the trail.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you hear something?”
“No.” He fought the urge to shudder. “No, it’s okay. Let’s get going.” He didn’t say he felt like they were being watched.
She frowned. “Maybe we should go back. It’s going to snow soon. We can always try again when the weather’s better.”
He thought about that for a minute. Part of him wanted nothing more than to turn around and head back the way they’d come. The other part said screw it. He wanted Aimee to see that meadow. If he didn’t get over this shit pretty soon, he might just go all the way around the bend, and then what?
Looking up at the sky, he shook his head. “Nah. It’s okay. Let’s push on through. We’ve come this far, it wouldn’t make sense to turn around now. We’re almost there.”
She watched him a second longer. He got the feeling she wouldn’t mind at all if they did go back. He was being stubborn. An unfortunate trait handed down by the same tenacious grandfather who’d also had an obsession with werewolves. It ran in the family.
She finally nodded, then turned and began walking again. He followed, this time not nearly as interested in her backside as he was the trees and shrubbery near the trail.
Jake lightly touched the Beretta at his waist, glad he’d brought it. Being up there messed with his head on several levels, the memory of Lizzie’s death being only one.
He took another step, but stopped again. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
Aimee had stopped too. She stood in the middle of the trail with her head cocked.
A howl, low and mournful, carried along the cold, afternoon air.
“What the hell?” he said. “There aren’t any wolves around here.”
Slowly, she turned. Her lips, normally full and pink, were pressed together in a grim line. Her brow was furrowed underneath her black, wool hat.
“I think we should go, Jake.”
Another howl lifted in the distance, its eerie timbre making his palms itch.
Stepping forward, he held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her close. “Okay,” he said.
He’d had enough of this forest for one day. It didn’t make any sense; there weren’t any wolves around there. He knew that, just like he knew that whatever announced its presence now wasn’t necessarily what it sounded like. He felt it. As crazy as it sounded, he felt it deep in his bones.
“Okay,” he said again. “Let’s get out of here.”