Last Resort. Hannah Alexander

that nobody would talk about. She could get a good grade on this report if she could dig up enough information, but did they care? No. What she wanted never mattered.

      This morning had been the worst thing yet, when Mom had called and Dad wouldn’t let her talk to Carissa or Justin. Then Dad had freaked when Carissa picked up the extension. How could he pretend Mom never existed? Sure, Mom had been a jerk, but she was their mother. How could kids be kept from seeing their own mother?

      That sound again—that thump of something heavy hitting wet earth in a slow rhythm. Horsewalk.

      “Gypsy, is that you?” Her mare wasn’t supposed to be in the front pasture, but sometimes she jumped the fence.

      Carissa shuffled the ledger beneath her arm to keep it from sliding out of her sweaty hand. It continued to slide. She grabbed for it and dropped the flashlight straight into a gooey puddle. The splatter of mud startled her. The darkness seemed to attack her with glee.

      “Stop it, stupid,” she muttered to herself, reaching into the puddle.

      She came up with a handful of mud, and heard the splash of water mingled with a rustle of brush somewhere behind her. Heart banging in her chest, Carissa tried again, feeling through the slick goo for the flashlight. She searched with both hands, forgetting the book until it slipped from under her arm and fell, splashing her with more mud.

      Oh no! Dad would freak. He’d warned her not to—

      More rustling, closer.

      Carissa froze, still stooped over, grasping the mud-slicked book. Had she really heard something? Was her mind playing tricks on her? She waited, holding her breath, listening.

      Nothing.

      “Justin? That you? You’d better stop it or I’ll tell Melva.” Reporting him to their stepmother was a threat that sometimes worked.

      Still no answer.

      “Justin, I mean it. Stop it right now.”

      It had to be Justin playing a trick on her. She listened for his soft snicker. Nothing.

      “Never mind Melva, I’m telling Dad.”

      She continued to search for the flashlight, but her movements grew slower and slower. She frowned.

      Usually Justin would be making weird noises by now, just to scare her….

      Was that breathing she heard?

      “Justin Cooper! Dad’ll skin you alive when he finds out you made me drop the ledger.”

      No answer. This wasn’t like her brother.

      But then, Justin hadn’t been acting all that brotherly lately.

      There was another rustle of brush, followed by another thud that sounded like a horse hoof.

      Noelle Cooper’s fingers stiffened in the process of making change for a customer. She caught her breath at the sudden unreasoning concern that gripped her.

      “You okay?” the bearded man asked as he stared at the coins Noelle held poised over his outstretched hand.

      She breathed again. Forcing a smile to her lips, she relinquished his change. “Sorry, Jack.” She closed the cash drawer. “Guess it’s past my bedtime. Hope you like that yogurt. If you want to cut your fat intake, you can skim the cream off the top, but for better taste stir it all together.”

      She waved him out the door, casting a glance around Noelle’s Naturals, her health-food and supplement store. No other customers had slipped in while she was waiting on Jack, so she reached for the keys to lock up.

      It was eight o’clock, straight up. Everyone else had gone home. Mariah, Noelle’s silent business partner, kept encouraging her to keep the doors open a few minutes past closing on Thursday nights for a customer who had to drive clear across Springfield after work, but that man hadn’t been here in three weeks, and there were hardly any cars parked in the shopping center lot.

      Besides, Noelle felt strange…enervated…weak. Understandable enough, since she’d slept only a total of ten hours or so the past three nights. The insomnia was probably brought on by Joel’s return. It had been too much to hope that her ex-husband would disappear from Springfield, Missouri, forever.

      On top of everything, Mariah was away on a buying trip to Kansas City, and Noelle had been at the store since seven o’clock this morning. Why was it every time her partner left town all the grouches and complainers descended? For the past three hours, Noelle’s face had ached from forcing a smile. If one more crank walked through that door…

      She locked it and returned to the cash register to balance her money with receipts, but then she paused and leaned against the counter. “Okay, Lord, what’s happening here?” she whispered.

      A ripple of unease brushed her nerve ends, as it had several times the past few days. But why? Usually, when she felt this kind of spontaneous sensation, she could take a few minutes to focus and she would calm down. This time it felt stronger. Different. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, picturing her favorite hiking trail, down by Hideaway. She would go hiking again soon. Very soon, she promised herself.

      The constant bustle of Springfield tended to get on her nerves, and she tried to escape from the city at least two or three times a month. Although the nearby nature center offered a good occasional respite, she also needed a quieter trail now and then, with lots of trees and without anyone race-walking past her, chattering on a cell phone. Noelle loved people, but the public could overwhelm her. When she was hypersensitive, as she was now, she craved solitude.

      She stretched her arms over her head to ease the tightness in her shoulder muscles. Everything in the store looked in place. She straightened a package of pumpkin seeds on the sale rack and returned to the counter, still unable to shake her anxiety.

      There was something different about the way she felt tonight. Noelle knew it wasn’t simply stress. Not this time.

      The last time she had felt this way a loved one had died.

      Carissa didn’t move. Her heart was pounding so fast she could hardly breathe, and her throat felt so stiff she could barely swallow. She prayed silently, the way her favorite cousin, Noelle, had taught her to do when she was afraid. Keep me safe, Jesus. Keep me safe.

      Something rustled the bushes at the side of the lane, and Carissa felt a low whimper sliding up her throat.

      What if it wasn’t Justin? Maybe it really wasn’t anybody she knew. But who else would be down here in Cedar Hollow at night?

      More rustling…

      Carissa stopped breathing.

      A footstep. Between her and the house.

      Forgetting about the flashlight in the puddle, Carissa swung around and raced back through the darkness toward the sawmill. She clutched the muddy ledger to her chest like a shield as she stumbled over weeds along the lane.

      She heard more rustling behind her, a splash of mud, the sound of labored breathing…and a soft whisper that blended so closely to the rustle of brush, Carissa couldn’t be sure it was human…. It sounded like the wind in the trees, except the whisper kept time with the rhythm of footsteps, and she thought she heard her name…Carissssssaa…

      She let the ledger fall to the ground as she raced through the darkness toward the sawmill, stumbling into branches that seemed to reach out from the black line of trees on both sides of the lane. As she emerged into the lumberyard, the moon peered out from the clouds. She pivoted to her right and sprinted toward the side door of the huge building that housed the sawmill.

      The footsteps behind her grew fainter, and when she reached the door, she risked a glance over her shoulder. A shadow broke loose from the hovering trees, but she couldn’t tell who it was.

      She yanked open the door and ran inside. She cracked her shins on something solid and tripped, falling hard on her left side. Her temple smacked the floor, stunning her. She’d