The next thing I know I’m laid out on the ground. Wet soaking through the back of my shirt. Cold mud against my scalp. The salty tang of blood in my mouth. I roll onto my side and get to my hands and knees. Knowing I’m done if he hits me again, I shake off the dizziness and look around. My attacker is nowhere in sight.
I spit blood, run my tongue over my teeth, and I’m relieved to find them intact. I don’t trust my balance so I twist and push myself to a sitting position, my legs splayed in front of me. That’s when I hear him splash through water several yards away. I’m in no condition to pursue him, and I curse myself for letting him get away.
“That hurt, you fuck!” I call out to him.
After a minute or so, I get to my feet. But I’m woozy. A headache creeps up the left side of my face toward my temple. I speak into my lapel mike. “Suspect crossed the creek. Heading south toward Hog Path.”
“I’m eastbound on Hog Path, approaching the bridge,” comes T.J.’s voice. “No one in sight, Chief.”
“Vehicle?”
“Negative.”
“Damn it.”
Kicking a half-buried log, I look around for my flashlight and spot the beam in a pile of leaves. I bend, my cheek pounding, and snatch it up. I shine the light toward the creek. The trail curves, but through the trees, I see the glint of water. I lower the beam to the ground and see footprints in the soft earth. I squat for a better look and realize the tread is visible. He was wearing sneakers.
Straightening, I look around, trying to get a sense of why he’d stopped to ambush me when he could have continued on and gotten away without a confrontation. I find a two-foot-long branch lying in the path. It looks out of place, so I toe it aside, realizing that’s what he hit me with.
I follow the footprints to the creek bank where they disappear. The water is shallow and fast-moving, so he likely crossed without a problem. I run my beam along the opposite bank, but it’s too rocky to see any prints. To my left, reeds as tall as a man grow from a rocky shoal. Right, the huge stump of a dead tree leans out over a deep pool.
Aggravated because I can feel my cheekbone beginning to swell, I turn around and start back toward the house. I’ve only gone a few yards when I hear someone on the path ahead of me. I thrust my beam forward and find Glock standing on the trail, flashlight pointed down at the ground. He’s staring at me, his expression concerned.
“Shit, Chief, you okay?” he asks.
I lower my beam. “Peachy.”
He crosses to me, his expression concerned. “You’re bleeding pretty good.”
I raise my hand to check and my fingers come away red. “Great.”
“You want me to call an ambulance?”
“I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re going to have a hell of a shiner.”
“Good thing I look good in purple.”
His gaze follows the trail toward the water’s edge. “You get a look at him?”
“White male. Six feet. One eighty. Wearing a hoodie. Fast as hell.” I blow out a sigh of frustration. “Anybody else see him?”
He shakes his head. “T.J.’s out on Hog Path Road. Holmes County set up a perimeter. If this guy’s around, we’ll find him.”
“Unless he had a vehicle parked somewhere.”
“Or he lives nearby.”
I see him trying to get a better look at my cheek and I frown.
“Any idea who it was?” he asks.
“Not a clue.”
“What happened?”
“He got ahead of me. Waited for me. Ambushed me.” I motion toward the path behind us. “Hit me with that branch.”
“Motherfucker.”
I laugh despite the pain in my cheek. Glock always seems to say the right thing at the right time. “I think he knew about the path. He knew it was here. Seemed to know where he was going.”
“So he’s used it before.”
“Or he’s been watching the place.”
His eyes sharpen on mine. “You think this is related to the hit-skip?”
“I think it’s a damn good possibility.”
“You think he was after Mattie Borntrager? Or the boy?”
“He was standing on the back porch when I stopped him. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, there’s no doubt in my mind he’d have gained entry.”
His brows furrow. “Maybe he thinks the kid saw something and can identify him or his vehicle.”
“I don’t know, Glock. All of this seems so … excessive. I’ve been wracking my brain and I can’t figure motive. An Amish deacon? Two kids? That’s not even to mention the premeditation factor. Who would go to those kinds of lengths?”
“Someone desperate enough to clean your clock to stop you.” His eyes catch mine and hold them. I see something in their depths that sends an uneasy prickling up the back of my neck.
“Chief, this is going to sound strange with Mrs. Borntrager being Amish and all, but she’s an extremely attractive woman.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. But while I’ve always been cognizant of Mattie’s beauty, it never crossed my mind that it could have anything to do with the case.