Chapter 19
Brooke
Brooke laced up her trail runners and checked her watch. She had twelve miles mapped out, a nice, long Saturday run on one of her favorite loops. The weather was perfect—cool enough that she wouldn’t overheat, but sunny enough to lift her mood even higher than it already was.
Which was saying something, because lately her mood had been pretty good.
She grabbed her water bottle and headed out, smiling as she thought about the past two weeks. Tyler had told her about the note someone left on his truck—creepy and unsettling, sure—but like Edi said, it was probably just some bored person trying to stir up drama.
Tyler thought it might be the game warden who had shown up the day they found Sheila. He had dated Sheila and even went to her funeral. Plus, he had gone to the shop earlier in the day when the note was left, wanting to order something that Tyler said he could buy anywhere.
Brooke agreed it was weird that he’d shown up at the shop, especially since he had a history with Sheila, but that didn’t mean much. Lots of people in town had a history with Sheila.
They had both agreed to be careful, to pay attention, but not to let fear run their lives.
And they hadn’t. Tyler had shown up for the trail run that Saturday, keeping pace with the group like he’d been running with them for years. Natural athlete, that man.
He’d been to each Wednesday night run since then, and they’d gone out running on their own a handful of times, even celebrating his birthday together earlier in the month. Dinners, running together, talking, building something that felt real and solid and good.
The trail wound through familiar terrain, pine trees thick on either side, the path well-worn and easy to follow. Brooke settled into her rhythm, breathing steadily, mind drifting.
She’d asked Tyler if he wanted to come today, but the shop was open. They stayed open one Saturday a month, and this was the day. He’d sounded genuinely disappointed when he said he couldn’t make it, which made her smile even as she’d told him it was fine, that she’d see him later.
Things were good. Really good. Even Adam had backed off—no more following Tyler around, no more random appearances at the coffee shop or the running club. She liked to think he realized Tyler was innocent. At the very least, he received the message she wasn’t interested, so that was a plus.
She felt a little bad that she was spending so much time with Tyler.
Gina understood, of course, since she was deep in her own relationship with Nick.
But Brooke got the sense that Steph was feeling left out, so they had gone out together for dinner and the community theater’s newest production last night.
It was fun. At dinner, they caught up on all sorts of gossip, especially about how Steph was upset over a guy who had recently moved to nearby Elkridge and started a running club there. Brooke thought it sounded like a great thing. Another running club might mean they could do things together.
But Steph said he’d called her, suggesting his new running club and Basin County Running Club plan a weekend run together to get to know each other.
He was totally stuck-up and arrogant, and Steph wanted nothing to do with him or his club.
He was some sort of failed Olympian and had people in his pocket.
He not only started a running club, but he was also planning to start hosting races.
Brooke understood why Steph was upset. She had long dreamed of hosting road and trail races that would draw people not only from the state and region, but eventually as a world-class event.
She had come close a few times, but something always got in the way.
While she’d been instrumental in organizing dozens of fundraiser runs, turning it into a business was a completely different challenge.
More than once, Brooke and Steph had discussed ways to do a major event on the cheap. Plenty of famous races started with bare-bones funding, but Steph always came up with an excuse as to why they couldn’t do it.
And now this guy showed up, planning the very thing Steph had dreamed of, and she couldn’t help but take it personally.
Brooke decided that reminding Steph she’d had plenty of opportunities for a big race in the past was a bad idea and simply let her talk.
Knowing Steph, eventually she’d come to realize the truth.
The play was amazing. It was opening night, and their friend Jocelyn, cofounder of the community theater and a member of their running club, had put on an amazing production. Brooke admired Jocelyn’s creativity.
After the play, Steph and Brooke joined the cast for the afterparty, making for a late night. She’d been a little slow to start this morning, but the run was finally starting to feel like it should.
Brooke rounded a bend, her feet automatically finding purchase on the rocky section. She knew this trail well, having run it dozens of times over the years.
She lost her footing as something slammed into her from the side. The world tilted—trees, sky, ground—and then she was down, rocks digging into her shoulder, her breath gone. She groaned. What just happened?
A hand clamped around her arm and yanked her across the hard ground. The person was big and strong, dressed in dark clothes with a ski mask covering their face, sunglasses in place.
Brooke screamed and twisted, fighting to break free.
A kick hit her hard in the ribs, stealing her breath. The grip tightened, dragging her deeper into the trees. Away from the trail. Away from anyone who might hear.
No, no, no!
She twisted and kicked out. Her shoe connected with something solid. Her attacker groaned, and their hold loosened just enough. She scrambled free and got to her feet, hands still on the ground.
She pushed off, ready to sprint. She made it two steps before a hand caught her jacket and jerked her backward. She stumbled but caught herself and spun around swinging. Her fist grazed the mask.
The attacker grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. Pain shot up her arm.
She kicked, connecting with a shin. The person didn’t even flinch. Didn’t make a sound. Not a word, not a grunt, nothing but breathing. She raised her knee and connected again. The attacker made a fist and punched Brooke in the jaw.
Brooke’s hands went to her face. The attacker shoved her backward, hard. Her foot caught on a root, and she went down, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Stars burst across her vision as pain exploded through her skull.
Get up. Have to get up. But her body refused to listen.
The figure loomed above her, vast and imposing. A boot rose into the air, and Brooke hurled herself aside just as it slammed into the ground where she’d been moments before.
“Hey! What’s going on?”
“Someone call 9-1-1.”
Voices. People on the trail.
The attacker’s head snapped toward the sound, then back to her, and then they bolted, crashing through the trees and disappearing.
Brooke lay there, breathing hard, her head screaming with pain. Warm wetness dampened her scalp. Blood.
“Hurry, she needs help.”
Hikers. Thank goodness. Brooke tried to sit up but only made it halfway before everything tilted sideways.
“Don’t move,” a woman’s voice said, close now. “You’re bleeding. We’re calling for help.”
“Thank you,” Brooke managed. Her voice sounded strange.
“Just stay still, okay? Help’s coming.”
Brooke closed her eyes. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. But she was alive. She’d fought back, and she was alive.
She closed her eyes and let herself relax.
*****
The emergency room was too bright, too loud, too much. Brooke sat on the exam table, trying not to move her head as Gina worked on cleaning the laceration.
“This is going to need stitches,” Gina said, her professional mask firmly in place. But Brooke could hear the worry underneath. “Probably four or five.”
“Okay.”
“Brooke.” Gina’s hands stilled. “What happened out there?”
“I told you. I’ve told everyone. They came out of nowhere. I don’t know who. They wore a ski mask.”
Gina’s expression darkened. “Did they— ”
“No. They didn’t. They just grabbed me and tried to pull me off the trail. I fought back, and then some hikers came, and whoever it was ran away.”
“Thank goodness for those hikers.” Gina resumed cleaning, her touch gentle despite the circumstances. “I called Steph to come sit with you. I’ve got another couple of hours on my shift, but I don’t want you alone.”
“Gina, I’m fine— ”
“You have a concussion. Someone needs to monitor you. It’s either Steph, or Phil, or your dad.”
Brooke closed her eyes. Phil would lose his mind. Her dad would, too, and that was a whole other level of drama Brooke didn’t have the energy for right now.
“Steph,” she said quietly.
“Smart choice. She’ll be here soon.”
While Gina worked, Brooke replayed what had happened. The attack had been so sudden, so violent. Random? Had to be. Wrong place, wrong time, some crazy person on the trail. It didn’t make sense otherwise.
But the silence bothered her. The attacker hadn’t said a word. Not a threat, not a demand, nothing. Just grabbed her and tried to—what? Drag her away? Hurt her?
“Hey, hey,” Gina said, handing Brooke a tissue. “You did great. You got away, and you’ll be fine.”
“I will,” Brooke whispered. “It’s just so weird.”
They tried to kill me. Brooke pushed the thought away. As Gina said, she was fine. Bruised, battered, and bleeding, but fine.
Gina finished the stitches and moved on to other patients. Brooke lay on the uncomfortable exam table, ready to be discharged. Gina said the doctor wanted to see her again before she was released and to just hang tight.
Steph arrived and sat in the chair beside the exam bed, her usually cheerful face tight with concern.
Deputy Boverman showed up half an hour later. When he entered, Steph stood and went to Brooke’s side.
“Ouch,” Adam said, making a face. “You’re okay?”
She nodded, regretting the movement.
“Don’t do that,” Steph said, touching her arm.