Blood on My Hands

CHAPTER 20

Sunday 8:46 P.M.

AS THE POLICE officer with the flashlight approaches the woods, the beam burns circles in my eyes. The tree I’m crouched behind isn’t big enough to hide me. I have to make a decision: run or hide? Running means making noise and being easy to spot. Hiding means I’m a sitting duck if he finds me. Now I curse myself for not running sooner. Why did I stay and watch?
My inclination is to run. It’s what I’ve always done. But something inside tells me not to. If I run now, it’ll be in the dark, through woods, while I’m chased by a man with a flashlight and with a radio to call in backup.
Instead, I peer around in the dark, searching for a better hiding place.
Meanwhile, the flashlight beam is getting brighter.
There’s a cluster of bushes to my right. But if I were searching for someone, wouldn’t that be where I’d look?
To my left is a big tree with a wide trunk. Maybe there? The flashlight beam sweeps toward me and I duck down. But as soon as it passes, I scamper toward the big tree.
Now I can’t see the officer, but I can watch the flashlight beam sweep back and forth, brightening tree trunks, which cast long narrow shadows.
And I can hear the officer’s footsteps crunch over dry leaves and twigs.
I press myself against the rough bark of the big tree’s trunk, my heart beating so fast it’s ready to explode, and hold my breath.
The flashlight beam reaches deep into the woods around me. The urge to run makes the muscles in my legs twitch, but I can’t help thinking that running may be exactly what they’re hoping I’ll do. They’re like hunters beating the brush to flush out game. So I stay in the shadow of the tree, my heart drumming, my breaths shallow and quick.
Suddenly a radio crackles on so close to me that I jump. A staticky voice asks, “See anything?”
“Negative.” The answering voice is strong and close. Oh my God! He must be on the other side of the tree. My heart rate and breathing speed up and I feel myself inhaling and exhaling through my lips. It’s so loud that I’m certain he’ll be able to hear me.
“Hold it,” he says. “I thought I heard something.”
In the evening of the day Katherine tricked Mia into thinking Zelda had drowned, I went online and chatted with Mia.
Cal: U ok?

Mia: What do U care?

Cal: Im sorry. And I did tell U.

Mia: True. Dont U just want 2 kill her sometimes?

Cal: Lol! But seriously? If U feel that way, why bother with her?

Mia: Why do U?

Cal: Sometimes I wonder. But sometimes its fun. When shes not being mean. But at least shes mean 2 everyone.

Mia: I just wish she liked me.

Cal: Other people like U.

Mia: Some people only want what they cant have.

Cal: Like U and K?

Mia: Duh.

The officer’s flashlight beam sweeps. Any second now he’ll come around the tree. I pull my breath in and duck as far down as possible. I feel the ground with my hand, and my fingers close around a stick. I throw it as hard as I can from that awkward position.
Thirty feet away the stick rustles through some branches and thumps to the ground. The flashlight beam instantly swings toward the sound and I hear the officer’s footsteps go in that direction.
“See her?” the staticky voice asks through the radio.
“Naw, it must have been an animal.”
“What do you want to do?” asks the voice.
“Let’s go back to the cars, check in with headquarters. She could be anywhere by now.”
The flashlight beam swings back toward the parking lot. I feel dizzy with relief as the officers get into their cars and drive away. Sitting behind the tree, I take deep breaths, amazed that my trick worked. But now what? Where am I going to spend the night? I have no place to go, and besides, the police are still actively searching for me. I’m probably best off staying here in the woods, where they’ve already looked.
And now I realize I have another problem. How did the police know I was in the old EMS building? The alert came over the scanner almost as soon as I called Slade. I know they can trace calls, but can they trace them that fast?
Or did Slade tip them off? What if the police have found out he helped me? What if they’re forcing him to assist them, to let them know the instant I call?
“When it comes to guys, I hear you have the Tampon Attitude.”
“Oh, really? What’s that?”
“Use ’em once and throw ’em away.”
“Very funny.”
“Is it true?”
“I bet you’d love to find out, wouldn’t you?”