Chapter 54
“Elinor! Jesus, Elinor, are you okay??”
I recognize the low voice. A small beam of light shines in my eyes and through it, I can make out Alice’s broad face. She’s wearing a rain jacket and is holding her hands out in front of her as though calming a wild animal.
I realize I’ve staggered back several steps and look, probably, like I’m about to bolt. It was Alice. Just Alice.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, as though she is the one who must explain herself and not the other way around.
“I was outside tending to the goats and heard shouting. I came down the road to see what was going on and then I saw your flashlight. You shined it on me and . . .” She almost looks amused. “And you shrieked like a banshee.”
“Hugo took off. My dog.” I take her hand and stand up. Her grip is rough and firm, much as I’d expect.
“The German shepherd?”
“Yes. You didn’t see him, did you?”
“No. Sorry. Where’d he run?”
“Into the woods. He was barking like crazy. He must have seen something.” I feel the worry rising in me again. “There’re bears in the woods, right?”
“Yeah, but they don’t usually attack dogs. They’d sooner run.”
“Damn. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s not much you can do now,” she says. “You should go home. Leave the lights on. Odds are he’ll show up on his own, pretending like nothing’s happened.”
I nod, looking around uncertainly.
“Want me to walk you home?”
I almost say yes, but something holds me back. “No, it’s okay. I have the flashlight.”
She looks at me, expressionless, for a moment. The flashlight casts unnatural light on her face, and I’m reminded of telling ghost stories around a campfire. “Okay then. Take care of yourself. Stay on the road.”
And with that she turns and walks into the darkness, her tiny flashlight tucked unused into her coat pocket. From behind, I can tell that she walks lurching forward, arms hardly moving by her sides. What was she doing outside at this hour? What would the goats need after dark?
I turn and head back toward my house. The gravel crunches under my feet, the trees glowing eerily in my periphery.
Shadows seem to dance and jump, stretch and contract, and my gait quickens from a walk, to a jog, to a run.
I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I could swear I hear footsteps behind me.
A soft yet persistent thud thud. I turn once, praying to see Hugo, but the dirt road is an empty tunnel.
I don’t stop until I get to my house, slam the front door, and arm the security system. It’s not until I hear the double beep that I exhale and realize I’d been holding my breath nearly the entire sprint back.