heart was pounding so fast she could hardly breathe, and her throat felt so stiff she could barely swallow. She prayed silently, the way her favorite cousin, Noelle, had taught her to do when she was afraid. Keep me safe, Jesus. Keep me safe.
Something rustled the bushes at the side of the lane, and Carissa felt a low whimper sliding up her throat.
What if it wasn’t Justin? Maybe it really wasn’t anybody she knew. But who else would be down here in Cedar Hollow at night?
More rustling…
Carissa stopped breathing.
A footstep. Between her and the house.
Forgetting about the flashlight in the puddle, Carissa swung around and raced back through the darkness toward the sawmill. She clutched the muddy ledger to her chest like a shield as she stumbled over weeds along the lane.
She heard more rustling behind her, a splash of mud, the sound of labored breathing…and a soft whisper that blended so closely to the rustle of brush, Carissa couldn’t be sure it was human…. It sounded like the wind in the trees, except the whisper kept time with the rhythm of footsteps, and she thought she heard her name…Carissssssaa…
She let the ledger fall to the ground as she raced through the darkness toward the sawmill, stumbling into branches that seemed to reach out from the black line of trees on both sides of the lane. As she emerged into the lumberyard, the moon peered out from the clouds. She pivoted to her right and sprinted toward the side door of the huge building that housed the sawmill.
The footsteps behind her grew fainter, and when she reached the door, she risked a glance over her shoulder. A shadow broke loose from the hovering trees, but she couldn’t tell who it was.
She yanked open the door and ran inside. She cracked her shins on something solid and tripped, falling hard on her left side. Her temple smacked the floor, stunning her. She’d left out a box when she’d been searching the sawmill earlier. Stupid!
The footsteps came closer, slowed and stopped. She sensed her pursuer was poised in the doorway, listening to her harsh, shallow breathing.
She scrambled to her feet, stumbled again, dizzy and confused.
A hand touched her shoulder. She screamed and skittered backward. Something caught her at the ankles. She fell back, slamming against the cement floor. Total darkness engulfed her.
Noelle dropped the bills back into their slot and shoved the cash drawer shut. Time to go home and go to bed.
She looked up to see a customer reaching for the handle of the front door—the door she’d locked a few moments ago. Groaning inwardly, she motioned for the man to wait, then retrieved the keys from the drawer.
She could feel her neck muscles tightening as she walked toward the front of the store. She glanced outside at the dark sky, then at the pale impatient face of the waiting customer. She wasn’t up to this, really she wasn’t. She needed to get away sometime soon, away from the demanding customers, the complaints and traffic. She couldn’t take—
Again, that feeling of focused concern struck her, more powerfully intense this time. And even more focused.
She caught her breath. It had been so long since she’d experienced this…this response. She closed her eyes, ignoring the man at the door.
“Oh dear Jesus.” It was a prayer not a curse. “Is this—” She opened her eyes, startled. “Carissa!”
Chapter Two
Nathan Trask gritted his teeth and braked his black Chevrolet pickup to avoid hitting a flop-eared hound darting out in front of him, the dog’s black nose following a scent.
“Sorry, fella, but that raccoon’s probably long gone,” Nathan muttered as the dog plunged into the brush on the other side of the road. “Could be we’re both following a false trail.”
A car honked behind him, and he increased his speed. Traffic in Springfield could rival the congestion of St. Louis or Kansas City during rush hours, but at 6:30 a.m. on Friday, Highway 160, south of Missouri’s third largest metropolis, held some of the attractions of a country lane. Touches of yellow and burnt orange decorated the trees along the road this autumn morning, hinting at more color to come.
But today, the beauty didn’t ease Nathan’s tension. He knew, from a lifetime of experience, that Noelle Cooper had a formidable understanding of logic, and the idea that Nathan had been considering these past few hours was not logical. His best friend from childhood might think he’d gone nuts.
He forced his hands to relax on the steering wheel and unclenched his jaw. Maybe his desperation to find Carissa, along with a night without sleep, had addled his brain. But his memories of Noelle’s particular gift were vivid, more so in the past few months, as the friendship that he and Noelle had shared long ago reestablished itself after years of life’s intrusions.
He wasn’t romanticizing the past, was he? Jumping to wild conclusions about Noelle’s ability to find Carissa when the rest of them had failed?
Noelle adored Carissa, and she needed to know what was happening. He was doing the right thing, if for no other reason than to inform Noelle about something she deserved to know, since she and the girl were family.
He turned right before he reached the city-limits sign, then drove six blocks and turned right again, admiring the picture-postcard attractiveness of this increasingly familiar neighborhood. Since running into Noelle in downtown Hideaway earlier this summer, Nathan had started finding more and more excuses to visit Springfield, despite the three-hour round trip.
As he pulled into her driveway—second house on the left, the gray brick with black trim—he spotted her red Ford Escort through the tiny square panes of the garage window, which meant Noelle hadn’t gone to work yet. Good. Maybe her partner could carry the load today, so Noelle could be free to come back to Hideaway with him immediately. After a cup of coffee; he really needed a strong dose of caffeine first.
Less than three seconds after Nathan rang the doorbell, Noelle opened the door. She focused on him slowly, pushing back a wave of tousled brown hair. Her brow cleared, and that familiar, affectionate smile lit the sleepy lines of her face.
“Nathan?”
“Morning,” he said, casting a glance at her long, teddy-bear nightshirt and terry-cloth robe. “Just get up?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She rubbed her eyes. “Thought I’d see if I had a paper yet.” She peered out at the empty sidewalk and front yard and shrugged. “Optimistic, I know. Come on in. Did you just get into Springfield? How about a cup of coffee? What are you doing here so early? Another meeting with those rural pharmacy suppliers?” She turned, leading the way back inside.
For a moment, instead of following her, he hesitated. Crazy. Definitely, he was crazy. What in the world made him think he could face this sane woman and blurt out what he’d been thinking? They were both adults now. Was he romanticizing memories? As a child, Noelle had possessed an extra special knowledge of certain events. Could she have that knowledge now?
She stopped and turned back, the tiny lines around her blue eyes deepening. “Nathan?”
“Coming.” He followed her into the foyer. “No meeting today. I came to see
