Mistaken Target. Sharon Dunn

Diego. She had only a vague idea of where she should go. She remembered no landmarks from their run to the lighthouse. Her only clear memory was of holding on to Diego’s hand.

      She pushed through the trees, keeping one ear tuned to the sounds around her. She thought she detected footfalls. She stopped. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it might be the shooter stalking through the forest, not Diego. Her feet pounded the earth. The trees thinned. Where was Diego?

      She could hear the roar of the ocean again as she stepped out onto the rocky shoreline. Now she knew where she was. Out of breath, she slowed to a brisk walk. Her own footsteps seemed to grow louder as a sense of impending doom settled into her bones. Instinct told her to drop to the ground just as a bullet charged overhead.

      Diego seemed to come out of nowhere, his hand suddenly warming her back. “He’s right behind us. Head toward the cover of those boulders.”

      Crouching, she ran as fast as she could, diving for the big rocks. The shots stopped as they made their way through the maze of stones and then darted toward a line of brush.

      The quiet settled in around them. Diego lifted his head slightly and looked around. “I wonder if there is a way we could trap him in these rocks.”

      After glancing around, she shook her head. “It’s like a labyrinth in here. At best you could slow him down.” Her words came out between panting breaths. She still hadn’t recovered from their last sprint.

      His face brightened. “I know what we can do, though.”

      She edged closer and spoke in a whisper, fearing that their pursuer might be in earshot by now. “What?”

      “Fifty yards from here, there’s a blind cliff. It doesn’t look like it drops off. I’m going to lead him off in that direction. There’s a ledge close to the top I can jump down on. You need to follow behind but not be seen, so you can pull me up from the ledge. He’ll fall so far he won’t be able to climb out. He’ll have to go halfway around the island to get back to the camp.”

      The plan sounded incredibly risky. What if the assassin caught up with Diego or shot him? What if she wasn’t able to get there in time? What if he missed the little ledge and fell all the way down himself? All the same, it was the best option they had. She took a deep breath and whispered, “I’ll be right behind you.”

      He stood up. “I see him. He’s looking for us.”

      They wove through more boulders until they came to the end of them. Diego signaled for her to stay behind as he burst out into the open. She watched as he slowed his pace, waiting for the assassin to make an appearance. The would-be killer slipped out of some brush and fell in behind Diego. He must have put his rifle down to run faster, or he had lost it somewhere.

      Keeping both men in her sights over the hilly, rocky terrain, she ran toward the first clump of bushes, crouched for a moment and then sprinted again. If the killer looked over his shoulder, he’d see her.

      The assassin had his pistol in one hand, but didn’t take a shot. The sound of the ocean grew louder as she approached the cliff. Still running, she watched Diego disappear over the edge of the cliff and then the assassin was gone, too.

      She willed her feet to move and prayed that she would get there fast enough and that the plan had worked.

      She slowed as she approached the cliff, remembering that Diego had said the edge caught you by surprise. She peered over. The drop-off was maybe fifteen feet, but the cliff face was ninety degrees with no footholds or places to grasp. Strong winds off the ocean buffeted her.

      The assassin lay on the rocks below about ten feet from the ocean. He twisted sideways and got up on his hands and feet. His gun had fallen some distance from him and was nestled in the rocks. She could see it from her vantage point, but she doubted he could.

      She looked for Diego, spotting the ledge where he should have jumped, but he wasn’t there. Instead, he was a few feet below there, clinging to the only tree that grew out of the cliff face.

      He met her gaze and then craned his neck to the man below. “You’d better hurry.”

      Though wobbly, the shooter had risen to his feet and was scanning the rocks for his gun.

      She searched the area around her as she fought off the rising panic that threatened to paralyze her. She found a sturdy tree branch and ran back to the cliff edge. “Grab this and use it to pull yourself to the ledge.”

      The shooter was closing in on his gun.

      Diego’s muscles flexed as he gripped the tree branch and inched toward the ledge. Samantha leaned back, using all her weight to hold the branch.

      Diego reached out for the ledge and pulled himself up to it. She let go of the branch and peered over the edge. The shooter was kicking rocks around. It would be only a matter of seconds before he found the gun.

      She thrust her arm down so Diego could grab it. Diego planted his feet against the cliff face. Even though there was nothing to hold him there, it lessened the pressure and pull on her arm. He used his arm strength to pull himself up and reach out for the cliff ledge.

      Down below, the shooter had found the gun.

      She held on to Diego’s hand while he anchored his other hand on the cliff ledge and pulled himself up. A gunshot tore through the wind, grazing the base of Diego’s shoe just as he pulled himself to the top of the cliff with her help.

      By the time the second shot reverberated through the air, they had managed to get to their feet and take off running.

      They arrived back at the camp, both of them out of breath. They raced toward the caretaker’s cabin.

      Diego pounded on the door as his gaze darted around nervously.

      Tension snaked around her torso. She glanced through the window. The sheer curtains allowed her to see that there was no movement inside.

      Diego knocked again.

      “It must be almost dinnertime by now. He’s probably wandering through the woods with his easel.” Or worse, the assassin had got to him before coming to the lighthouse.

      As though he could read her mind, Diego said, “Unless he saw the shooter, the old man is still alive. Professional killers like this guy don’t take anybody out unless they have to. They like things tidy that way.”

      It scared her that Diego knew that kind of thing. His world was so different from hers. She studied the trees, waiting for the assassin to burst through them even though she knew, logically, that he wasn’t right on their heels. Not yet, anyway. “How long do you think it will be before he gets here?”

      “To have to run in a big loop like that will take at least an extra fifteen minutes.” He tried the doorknob. “Under the circumstances, I think it warrants us breaking in and seeing if there is a phone or means of communication in there.” He pushed the door open. “You look around. I’ll watch the windows.”

      She checked the living-room surfaces and opened some drawers. George’s cabin wasn’t any bigger than the guest cabins. She peered into a closet stuffed to the brim but saw nothing that looked like a radio or phone.

      “If he has a phone that works out here, he must have taken it with him,” she said, fighting off the seeping disappointment.

      “We’ve got time. Let’s go look for him around the camp and then out into the woods. We’d be okay shouting his name,” Diego said.

      “I think we should leave a note here, warning him to stay in the cabin and to get help.”

      Diego nodded. She found a pen and paper, and they left the note on the refrigerator.

      They ran through the camp calling George’s name without any results. They stopped outside the kitchen. “Let’s hurry and get something to eat first before going to look for George in the forest,” Diego suggested.

      “I’m starving, too,” Samantha agreed.

      As