Vanessa Ford heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, but she didn’t see anyone. Just pine forest beyond a narrow expanse of rocky soil and scraggly grass struggling to come back to life after a harsh winter.
Morgan Mesa, the place where she stood, towered a thousand feet above her hometown of Torchlight, Nevada. As a kid growing up in Torchlight, she’d been in awe of the rich people who lived on the rim of the mesa. The homes up here had looked like palaces to a little girl living in a single-wide trailer down on the flatland below. Since then she’d made something of herself as an attorney in Las Vegas, nearly five hundred miles away in the southern end of the state.
She was back in town for a few weeks to help her grandfather with preparations to open the Silver Horse Guest Ranch. He and his two closest friends had put their life savings into the endeavor. When their financing had come up short, Vanessa had kicked in some of her own money.
And while she was here, she was investigating a murder.
Standing at the edge of the mesa, she was sure she could feel someone’s gaze focused on her. A chilly breeze brushed the surface of her skin, setting the hairs on the back of her neck on end.
Snap.
The sound of a footstep breaking a twig confirmed her suspicion. Somebody was there, hidden in the forest.
A weird whistling sound pierced the quiet. Vanessa tried to convince herself the noise had been made by an animal or some kind of machine. But she knew better. Somebody was hiding in the woods, whistling a creepy melody she couldn’t quite place. Was someone deliberately trying to scare her? Her gut twisted itself into a knot and her heart began to race. Maybe she was on the verge of stumbling across something she wasn’t meant to see.
The whistling sound abruptly stopped and the sudden quiet made Vanessa’s racing heart pound even harder.
Her hands shook as she reached into her jeans pocket for her phone. She glanced toward the edge of the forest where she’d last heard the whistling, but she still couldn’t see anyone.
She held her breath and listened for sounds of somebody moving around. Whoever was hiding in the woods, watching her, could make their move at any minute. If they were armed, they could fire a shot at her without ever leaving the cover of the forest.
She didn’t have a weapon. Her car was parked a mile away. And the hiking boots she wore weren’t designed for running. Her best option was to call the police and pray they got here fast.
She’d already started punching in 9-1-1 on her phone when she glanced down at the screen. Her heart sank. No bars. No cell service. She was on her own.
She was also still close to the rim of the mesa with a one-thousand-foot drop straight down. She could not stay there. Not if some lunatic was watching her with evil intentions in mind. The rustling of the breeze through the tops of the pine trees could easily mask the sound of footsteps. Maybe the creepy whistler had moved around and was no longer in the direction of where she’d last heard him.
In the late afternoon’s blue-gray shadows, she couldn’t see if anyone was there. Whichever direction she went, she ran the risk of running directly into the lurker she was trying to avoid.
There was always the chance that it was just some fool with a twisted sense of humor taking a shortcut through the woods. Maybe he was already gone.
Or maybe not.
“Hello?” she called out. “Anybody there?”
Nothing.
And then, from among the trees, a mocking, exaggeratedly falsetto voice repeated her words. “Hello? Anybody there?”
Goose bumps dimpled the surface of Vanessa’s skin. It was time for her to leave.
She had to go through the woods to get away from the edge of the mesa. So she started walking quickly, trying to aim herself away from the direction of where she’d heard the voice. She was afraid if she ran it would trigger the person stalking her to run after her.
She’d just stepped into the dim light of the forest when the strange mocking voice called out again, “Hello? Anybody there?” This time it was directly in front of her.
Vanessa stopped. Which way should she go?
Panic clawed up from her chest into her throat. Her heart pounded in her ears.
She looked down at the phone in her shaking hand. Still no coverage. She hit 9-1-1 anyway and held the phone to her ear. Nothing. Then she looked up and immediately wished she hadn’t.
A figure stepped out from the shadows. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved red-and-white flannel shirt. He’d pulled his black knit cap down low over his face until it nearly covered his eyes and had covered the bottom of his face with a faded blue bandanna. And he carried a claw hammer in his right hand, tapping the prongs against the palm of his left hand. Through the fabric covering his mouth, she could hear the muffled sound of laughter. And then in a raspy, whispery voice he called out, “Get out of town or get buried here.”
He started stalking toward her.
Run!
No