Chapter 4
Four
Liam jolted upright in his bed, chest heaving, skin slick with cold sweat as Christiana’s scream echoed through his entire body. The look on her face just before she dropped from sight embedded in his mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, not six months ago.
He flopped back and tossed the covers aside, drawing in a slow breath that did nothing to slow his hammering heart.
His shoulders, still heavy from the dream, seemed to pin him to the mattress, but he couldn’t stay here.
All that waited for him was tossing and turning with haunting memories until his alarm went off.
He sat back up and dragged a hand through his hair as he swung his legs over the bed’s edge, the wood floor cool against his bare feet. His muscles ached from the long days, yet he needed to get up, move, burn off this restless energy that had settled under his skin.
Teague lay sprawled across his own bed, his hair—in desperate need of a haircut—covering half his face. The soft snore indicated that the guy was still deep in a REM cycle.
Must be nice.
Liam stood, taking care not to make a sound, and pulled on running shorts, a faded T-shirt, and his trail shoes, their soles worn thin from countless miles lately.
The door squeaked as he pulled it open. Teague stirred but didn’t wake.
Liam slipped out, easing the door shut behind him, and hurried toward his favorite running trail.
The crisp morning sky faded from deep indigo to pink at the horizon.
He didn’t normally start his run for another hour, but he’d grown comfortable enough with this route that the dim light didn’t deter him.
It must have dropped below forty last night, and the chill that still clung to the air almost had him retracing his steps to grab a long-sleeve shirt.
But he shook off the thought and drew a deep breath, letting the cold burn his lungs.
A new day was never a guarantee, and he wasn’t going to squander it.
A new day to write his story, as Logan would say.
A new day to make sure other people got to keep writing theirs.
Liam’s breath puffed in small clouds as he started down the road toward the closest trail, his long strides eating up the gravel path.
A forest quietness settled over the trailhead, and Liam paused his steps to stretch, his calves tight from yesterday’s long shift, then started onto the trail at an even pace.
Gravel crunched under his shoes, the sound a familiar anchor.
The route wound through towering pines and passed a meadow where a pair of mule deer grazed in the early light.
Their heads lifted, tracking his movement, but they must have decided he wasn’t a threat as they returned to their breakfast. The rhythm of his footfalls slowly grounded him, each step pushing Christiana’s scream further back and dragging him forward to the here and now.
About a mile in, footsteps approached from behind—steady and deliberate, matching his rhythm. He glanced over his shoulder. Noah.
His director’s easy stride suggested the guy had been running these paths for years, his mop of hair tucked under a worn cap and tied back at the nape of his neck. The sun had just crested the tree line, and the brim of Noah’s hat shadowed the only part of his face not covered by his bushy beard.
“Mind if I join you?” Noah said, not breathing hard.
Liam slowed slightly to let Noah catch up. “You’re out early.”
Noah fell into step beside him. “Could say the same about you. You’re usually not out till six. Running from something?”
“Just clearing my head.”
“Bad dream?”
Liam’s stride faltered for a split second before he righted himself. “Why do you say that?”
Noah gave him a sidelong glance, his eyes sharp despite the early hour. “I recognize the look. Saw it in the mirror long enough.”
Liam didn’t respond, focusing on the trail as it curved around a cluster of rust-colored boulders. They ran in silence for a stretch, their breaths puffing in the chilly air, the trail winding through towering ponderosa pines that filled the air with their vanilla scent.
“I’ve run these trails at all hours, trying to outpace my own ghosts.” Noah’s rough words finally broke the silence. “Just a word of advice. Time helps, Liam. But it doesn’t erase anything. Eventually you’ll realize you can’t outrun it. Not forever. Certain things only God can heal.”
“Is that what you did?” Why did everyone try to make it sound so simple? “Did you let God heal it?”
He hadn’t been able to keep the sarcasm from his voice, and he winced. Not really how he wanted to talk to his boss.
“Nope. Why do you think I’m out here running this early myself?” They ran a bit before Noah continued. “Don’t be like me, Liam. I’m so angry and bitter I’m not sure there’s hope for me. But you? You have a life ahead of you. Don’t throw that away.”
“You’re only like eight years older than me. I think at thirty-five you have a full life ahead of you too.”
Noah grunted. They rounded a bend, the trail opening to a meadow where morning light touched the grass.
Beautiful. Peaceful. He sort of wanted to stop, just breathe it in.
They ran another half mile, their steps in sync, the trail climbing gently toward a ridge. Liam’s legs burned, but the rhythm pushed him on. Certain things only God can heal. Maybe, but He couldn’t undo the past.
As they neared a fork in the trail, Noah veered right. “See you at breakfast. And think about what I said.”
Maybe.
The trail narrowed as it wound through denser pines before opening again as it neared the village. He slowed his pace as he entered the public campground and drew in several deep breaths.
Weirdly, Nimue’s voice entered his head. The…uh, North Rim, uh, campground.
He’d tried not to let her strange appearance in the office set him on edge, but…something was off about her. Then Teague had interrupted him before he could question her further.
And he could admit to wanting to see her again when she brought in those pictures.
He slowed. Maybe he’d find her somewhere here, in the campsites.
His phone chimed with a text. He must have just reentered service. He pulled it from his pocket. Logan. Looked like he also had two missed calls from him. He opened the text.
Logan
Your phone is moving. Why on earth are you up at this hour? What happened to my sleep-till-noon brother?
Sleep-till-noon Liam didn’t have a job. Or nightmares.
He tapped his brother’s name. Logan answered on the second ring. “So you really are up and a squirrel didn’t just make off with your phone.”
“Hilarious. And good to know you are taking the time to track me.”
“We hadn’t heard from you in a few weeks, so I was just checking to make sure you hadn’t jetted off to Europe without telling any of us…again.”
“It was one time.”
“So what has you up this early? I know you don’t normally run until six.”
He wasn’t going there. Logan had a book deadline—he didn’t need Liam’s problems dumped on top. Time for a redirect. “Some of us work for a living, not just play make-believe on paper all day.”
Laughter laced Logan’s voice. “Your life is so hard. What’s on the agenda? Hiking? Rappelling?” Logan knew how to dish it back. “Helping any beautiful campers locate a lost child’s mother today?”
“You saw that? You didn’t save it, did you? I went back to screenshot the photo, but it was gone.”
“Sorry. Don’t tell me you didn’t get her number. Liam, Liam. You’re losing your touch.”
Logan had no idea. “If Mom and Dad hadn’t moved to Heritage, you’d still be pining over Devin from a distance. Speaking of your better half, how is she doing? Having fun planning the wedding?”
“Who knew so much went into it?”
“Uh, everyone.”
Liam had run the circle of sites. Hardly anyone seemed awake, so there was probably no hope of spotting her.
Instead, he headed toward the back corner of the campground and aimed for the trail that led up to the staff cabins. The sun was above the tree line now, and the high elevation made the direct rays uncomfortably warm even with the cool air.
A shower was definitely his next stop. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the edge of his T-shirt.
Logan’s voice dropped to a more serious tone. “So about the early run…”
Liam rounded the final loop before the trail, and his steps halted.
The bus. The one he’d seen on the ridge.
The thing was vintage—a repurposed city bus painted in mint greens and earthy browns that almost blended with the trees, except for the garish hippie stickers plastered around the door.
Peace signs, tie-dye swirls, a handful of state decals—Texas, Oregon, Montana.
“…I know there’s something going on that you don’t want to talk about, but—”
Right. Logan. “We’ll talk soon. I have to go.”
“Liam—”
“I’m not just avoiding the topic. There’s this bus. Long story, but I need to go. I’ll call later.” He ended the call.
Everything about the bus should scream eccentric camper, but it all seemed too intentional. Too purposeful.
He scanned the surrounding pines and froze. Another camera, small and discreet, peeked from the branches, its lens glinting faintly in the morning light.
Gotcha.
The door clicked, and out stepped a woman who made Liam’s morning run suddenly feel like the least important thing on his schedule.
Dark hair tumbled past her shoulders in loose waves, framing a face dusted with freckles across olive skin.
She wore workout leggings and a fitted tank that suggested she’d either just finished a run or was about to start one.
“Nimue?”
Her eyes stopped him cold—amber brown that seemed to catch and hold the morning light, with hints of gold and…
He needed to stop staring.
Her feet halted on the step, and her face went blank—a flash of panic flickering through her eyes as her gaze shot past him, around the area, as if scanning it, and then back to him.
And then she seemed to place him.
Well, that hurt. He thought he’d made more of an impression.