Chapter Twenty

Mike Miller

Wednesday Morning

Out of the corner of his eye Mike saw Vicky lean forward on her end of the library bench. What the hell? How could she know about the woman? So, someone saw her after me. Who? After all these years, wondering if I was the last one to see her alive. The whole time expecting someone to come around asking about her—the cops, whoever beat her up, maybe a relative. But now, seriously? A travel writer? And she went to some trouble to track me down. Why?

“All right. Bare bones.” He’d tell her the minimum, even though he could remember every detail. He had never told anyone, ever, about the event he’d relived in his mind for years.

“I found a woman in the woods near my cabin.”

He had heard the woman before he found her, the sounds of someone unskilled in the woods, breaking branches, overturning rocks. He drew close enough to hear gasping breaths, a slow crunch of wood crackling, then silence.

She was face down in the underbrush. He scanned their surroundings, listening, before he bent over to touch her shoulder. She was small. Leaves and twigs stuck to her long, dark, tangled hair. Her torn brown sweatshirt and jeans were dirty.

“She was hurt.”

He had gently rolled her over. She was young, maybe twenty. Unconscious, her face swollen and bruised. Streaked with blood. An old kitchen knife lay half-under her. It was bloody, as were her clothes. Fresh blood. He touched her neck to find a faint, uneven pulse. No large wounds. No major bones appeared to be broken.

“I carried her to my place.” Mike could practically feel Vicky concentrating, extracting words from him, tugging his memory toward her as they sat outside the library. She leaned forward, watching intently.

He’d slung his gun over his shoulder, slid the knife into his bag, then bent to pick her up. He scuffed away their footprints as he carried her. He paused before leaving the woods, then hefted her limp body a little higher and headed for his back porch. She moaned but didn’t wake. Mike surveyed the area before opening the door. The woods were dark and silent behind him.

“She was unconscious, but she was breathing okay. Someone’d beat her up bad.”

The vibration of her deep groans pulsed against him as he carried her. He put her on his bed and covered her with his blanket. He took one more look outside before he shut the door.

“She was out for a few hours.”

She had thrashed around when she woke up, got to her knees, eyes darting. She saw him and fell back, then scrabbled to the corner of his narrow bed, next to the worktable. She half-stood to reach across a stack of cut-out leather, toward his leatherworking tools. By the time her hand was there he had already pushed them aside.

“When she woke up, I gave her water and something to eat.”

He’d placed the cup and plate near her, then backed away. She crouched, half-raised hands in fists. Terrified. He murmured reassurances and kept his distance. She finally picked up the cup and gulped water, her flashing dark eyes pinned on him. She picked up the sandwich and tore into it.

“She didn’t say anything. I don’t know whether she even understood me.”

Mike glanced at Vicky, who did not move a muscle. “We heard a truck coming.”

He had picked up the rest of the sandwich and put the dishes in the sink. By then she’d heard it too. She crouched lower, making small guttural sounds.

“She was terrified.”

He had lifted his hands to show her, slowly, as he took her knife from his bag and put it into one he’d almost finished making. He added the bread and meat. No time for water. He took her arm and drew her to her feet. She did not resist. He tugged the bedcovers straight, then put the bag strap over her head and picked up his rifle.

“I put a few things in the bag and hid her outside.”

He’d carried her several yards into the woods. He set her down gently in the underbrush, pulled branches over her, and whispered to wait there.

“It was Rick Carr. Deputy Carr." Mike glanced at Vicky. “He asked about the girl on the levee. I didn’t know anything about her.”

“You didn’t tell him about the woman?”

“No way. I told you. I didn’t trust him or his daddy. Old Sheriff Carr was mixed up in some shady deals. She might have been running from them. I don’t know.”

“That’s what you think? Me too.” Vicky sat straight, perched on the edge of the bench. “I’m glad we have the same opinion. What happened then?”

“That damn Rick took a look around my place, then I followed him to check the lodge.”

Shadows had deepened the afternoon gloom to near dark when they pulled into to the lodge clearing. The old building looked like an enormous swamp creature hunched down, small window eyes staring blankly. The sagging ends of the deep porch formed a frown, with crooked teeth made of chairs covered with faded brown tarps. The surrounding trees shaded the house so completely the roof and wood plank siding were blotched with dark moss. Overgrown bushes and vines melded with the structure. Mike had always loathed the place. It was like a malignant growth on the land.

“Sheriff Carr was there, standing on the porch.”

Mike had walked around the side of the building that formed the toe of the L-shaped structure. The top of the L backed up to the steep rock bluff. The dark, ragged forest formed another wall, creating a rough courtyard of bare dirt and weeds. It was empty, but two vehicles had left fresh tire tracks.

“He’d been inside. He’d walked all through the place. I didn’t even know he had a key.”

The place stank of years of neglect, layered with the scents of unwashed bodies and long-ago rotted food. The smell of leftover pizza was more evidence someone had been there.

Mike glanced at Vicky. “She was gone when I went back for her.”

“Did you look for her?”

“Yes.” Hell, yes, he’d looked for her. Wasn’t for lack of trying he didn’t find her. “I got sent off to search for any sign of the kid’s people. Then it rained. By the time I got back she could have been anywhere.”

“And you never saw her again?”

Mike shook his head and fell silent.