She almost closed her eyes to pray that Bogart would hear those shussh shussh sounds and know she was in trouble. She’d never needed a Prince Charming more.
After several minutes of running and stumbling, she reached a clearing where a new road was being laid over a narrow stream. Winded and shaking from nerves, she paused again. And squinted.
The starlight was brighter now that she had reached the other side of the tree belt. Ten feet away, gleaming darkly as if they were oiled with tar, long PVC pipes lay stacked like firewood against an embankment. They had been brought in to form a culvert for the stream that ran under new road construction.
Shay closed her streaming eyes. Shelter, if only she had the guts to use it.
She had a fear of tight places. Of tunneling into the ground, a cave getting the farther along she went until she was unable to back up. It was a nightmare she’d had many times.
Behind her she heard sirens and shouts. And then, from somewhere much closer, the sound of pounding footsteps. James? Or him? She couldn’t risk being wrong.
She ran the short distance and dove for the opening of the middle pipe in the stack.
As she scrambled into the opening, she tried to stuff the fear aside. What would she tell a child who needed to take shelter from a—a thunderstorm, or a bear? Yes, a bear. Big bear. It was November. All the creepy-crawlies should be hibernating by now. Snakes would have gone to ground under stumps where it would be warmer than the inside of the cold PVC piping she was being forced to crawl into. It was safe in here.
She paused a couple of feet in, the throbbing from her injured arm making her dizzy with pain. No. Mustn’t think of that. Think only of survival.
Though the faintest light glowed at the far end, it was much too dim to see her surroundings. She felt the walls. The space was maybe thirty inches in diameter. High enough for her to be on hands and knees and still not quite touch the top. It wasn’t so bad.
Shay crawled a little farther into the pipe. It was corrugated and rainwater must have gathered over time, making the bottom feel slimy.
I’m not dead. I’m not dead. I’m not dead. The litany pulsed through her mind, growing louder and faster with every heartbeat. Shay closed her eyes and made herself breathe. She was safe.
But this time the feeling wouldn’t gel. She’d started a fire. Probably burned down her uncle and aunt’s cabin. Her assailant had gotten away. No one else had seen him. Her words against a phantom. No one would believe her. Why should they? And what about the cat? No way she could prove he did that. No way to prove that she was innocent of Jaylynn Turner’s accusations. She should have gotten proof that her attacker was still out there.
She moaned like a wounded animal as other images pressed in to drown out the first.
Headfirst into a hole. No light at the end of this tunnel. Why wasn’t there night and starlight at the other end?
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t be sure her assailant wasn’t still looking for her. Suddenly she realized it didn’t matter, she couldn’t stay here. Had to get out.
She began back crawling backward, whimpering as her hands touched unspeakably wet and smelly debris lining the bottom of the pipe.
Her panicked jerky movements were uncoordinated. The curved surface beneath her hands began to tremble. Her palm slipped in something slick and wet and she lost her balance and fell hard against the concave wall.
She felt something shift beneath her, a slight roll, and then a thud struck above her head, jarring the pipe in which she was encased.
She held her breath in fright as the movement reverberated beneath her palms. Strange squeaky squealing sounds came from deep below her. More slippage. Then the bottom fell out.
She was rolling over and over, bouncing and bumping, unable to control her body or brace herself. There was nothing to hold on to. There were only the sounds of her cries and the low rumbling like a herd of buffalo crossing a plain.
The stop was more abrupt than the free fall. The pipe she was in slammed into something hard.
Shay’s head whiplashed, hitting both sides of the curved wall. Then she was spiraling down a black hole.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The pickup truck that roared past James on the county road that led to Lake Gaston sported a flashing dash-mounted emergency light. He noticed the sticker in the rear window said: WARREN COUNTY VOLUNTEER FIRE DEPARTMENT. It made his heart rate tick up a beat with impatience. Not even the traffic was cooperating. Nothing he could see was on fire. Most likely they were just out joyriding on a Friday night.