Run to Me (9 page)

Despite her fears, her determination to tell him nothing about herself, he’d somehow managed
to draw her out. Not goaded her
into it, as many had tried, but simply let her feel it was all right, that he would listen. And, wonder of wonders, she had believed it, however briefly. She’d spoken more to him in their twenty minutes than at both her visits to Muir combined.

She felt the slightest prick of conscience recalling she hadn’t left him her contact details as she had promised. What
she had told him wasn’t a lie – the first time she’d visited Doctor Muir, last November, she’d only just returned to the cabin and hadn’t expected to stay very long. Just a few weeks, months at the most, she’d told herself. To get over the divorce, losing her job, her friends, the apartment, and . . . everything else. Just a bit of time to pull herself together and then she’d move on. Find a new
job. Start a new life.

Only it hadn’t worked out that way. Nor was it likely to in the future. When the mere sight of children was enough to bring on your panic attacks, how did you ever go back to teaching? And without a job to get money for treatment, how did you ever get over your problem? Not without asking for help, you didn’t, and that was patently out of the question.

And so here she
was, ten months later, still at the cabin.

She gazed towards the workshop’s darkened window, seeing in her mind’s eye the forests beyond. The misty hillsides, shrouded peaks and flowered meadows she’d hiked nearly every summer of her childhood. Sometimes she wondered if part of the reason she’d come running back here was in the hope of finding that girl still out there. Trusting and safe, wholly
at peace. So far she hadn’t.

The winter past had been grim at the start, the long hours of cold and darkness closing in on her, the isolation she’d initially craved driving her slowly beyond despair. Until the day she’d unlocked the door and entered this room, her father’s old workshop, and stepped back in time.

As she’d cleared the benches and sorted the tools the memories had come flooding
back – those wonderful summers she’d spent helping him build the cabin. The hours he’d devoted to teaching her the skills had instilled in her his love of the craft, a love reawakened the minute she’d returned to where it all started.

Once revived, that love had gotten her through the winter. With the tools and wood he’d left behind, his presence alive in the dusty rafters as though he was watching
over her, she’d renewed her practice of woodwork and carving. By spring she’d had enough decent pieces to consider selling them, and with the last of her food running out, she’d approached Bill at the general store. Their arrangement had kept her going ever since.

By her second visit to Muir in March she’d known she wouldn’t be leaving the cabin, but by then the anger had taken hold of her and
she’d refused to give him her details on principle. Not in a loud defiant way but by simply ‘forgetting’, as she had today.

She accepted that her logic on the issue was probably flawed, as it had become on so many things since ‘the accident’. But she couldn’t help clinging to her imagined safeguard, her protective barrier, one of the few things she still had any control over. The world that had
forced her into seclusion was not going to turn around and follow her here!

And as calm and assuring as Doctor Hadley had seemed, she wasn’t ready to trust him that far. Nor anybody else.

At the first hint of light – probably an hour or more past dawn, owing to the forest’s shade – Zack crawled out of the concrete pipe. His calf felt stiff as he took his first steps, but he doubted it had anything to do with how or where he’d spent the night.

In fact their makeshift bed hadn’t been much worse than his filthy mattress back at the Learys’. Before it had grown completely
dark he’d gathered armfuls of pine needles and dead leaves and spread them over the floor of the pipe. Not only had it proved a soft bed, it had also provided insulation and levelled the surface so the three of them could sleep side by side. Combined body heat and the absence of drafts had kept them warm.

No, the stiffness in his calf was something else – he felt a twinge of pain now as well.
He limped to the stream, sat on a rock and rolled up the leg of his jeans. Cupping water up with his hands, he washed away the crusted grime. The wound beneath was no longer bleeding but was red and puffy around the edges. Funny that it hurt more now than yesterday. Still, it didn’t hurt near as much as his stomach. God, he was starving!

He rolled the pants leg back into place, pushed off the
rock and turned to see Reece coming out of the pipe.

‘Corey won’t get up. He says his stomach hurts.’ He pulled a twig from his short brown hair. ‘So does mine.’

‘Yeah, mine too.’

‘You said you’d find us something to eat.’

‘I will. Gimme a chance, okay?’

Zack scanned the only sliver of sky visible above the road. Thick grey clouds skimmed the tree tops. If they stayed by the pipe they’d have
shelter from rain.

He turned back to Reece. ‘Right, here’s the deal – you and Corey are going to stay here and I’m going to walk up the road a ways. If I find a shop or a house I’ll get some food and bring it back to you.’

‘What if you don’t find anything?’

‘Then I’ll come back and walk the other way. There’s gotta be people around. We just haven’t found them yet.’

Eyes bright with tears,
Reece nervously scanned the woods.

Zack stepped closer. ‘Come on, don’t worry; we’ll be okay. You just stay and look after Corey. He’s only little.’

‘If someone comes by, couldn’t we just tell them what happened to us and ask for help?’

‘No! We can’t. They’d never believe us.’

‘But if we told the police –’

‘They’d just send us back to Nolan and Tragg.’ Zack bent down to look him in the eye.
‘You gotta promise – you can’t talk to anyone. You can’t even let anyone see you.’

Reece nodded and dragged his sleeve across his nose. ‘You’re gonna come back, aren’t ya?’

‘Don’t be a turkey. ’Course I will.’ Zack straightened, gave the boy’s shoulder a gentle shove, then turned and started up the embankment.

At the top he checked that no cars were coming before stepping into the open.

As
he started up the road he gave Reece a parting thumbs-up. ‘Won’t be long. Just remember – stay out of sight.’

Shyler drove the final stretch into town with more than her usual sense of disquiet.

From careful observation she’d long since learned what days were safest to visit Bill’s store. She could have gone in yesterday – the same day she’d come to see the doctor – and saved herself this extra
trip. But yesterday had been delivery day, that one day of the month when the supply truck came and the general store did its heaviest trading. No way would she go near the place then!

Today, however, was a different story. The day after delivery day was usually Bill’s slowest, especially in the morning, which was why she always came at this time. Well worth the bother of an extra trip. Or so
she had thought. In reality the safeguard that usually reassured her didn’t seem to be working this time.

Because of yesterday. Because of one minor change in her routine – a single unplanned trip to the doctor.

Shaking her head, she steered the pick-up into the parking lot at the back of Bill’s store.

Walking helped work the stiffness from his leg. By the time Zack reached the first set of
buildings – an office block for a logging company on one side of the road with a doctor’s office diagonally opposite – his leg was feeling almost normal again. Strong enough that he could walk a bit further.

Beyond the next bend he came to what was possibly the centre of town, if there even was one: three houses and a general store flanking a T-junction. He ran up the shop steps straight at the
door and nearly cracked his head when it didn’t open.

Peering through the glass, he saw bins of apples, squash and potatoes arranged around a table heaped with bread. Aisles of canned and packaged goods receded into the shadowy depths. He tore his gaze from a shelf of cookies and stepped back to study the front of the shop.

No business hours were posted in the window but it was so light out
now, he felt sure the place had to be open. Maybe there was another door. He went down the steps and started around the side of the building.

As he neared the back, he heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel and quickened his pace. On clearing the corner he saw an old pick-up backed up to the rear of the shop. A woman with blonde hair was unloading boxes and placing them beside the door.

Zack
hesitated. He’d already accepted he’d have to show himself to get what he wanted. But in a town this size people would recognise a stranger. He’d need a convincing story to tell them.

‘Hi,’ he said, stepping out and starting towards her.

The woman, just pulling a box from the truck bed, spun around so fast it startled him to a halt.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’ His apology had no effect.
She still looked as though she was about to scream.

‘Can I help you with that?’ He took another cautious step. If she said yes he might even get a couple of bucks out of it. Then he could buy food instead of stealing it.

But the woman didn’t answer. She simply turned away and went back to unloading the truck.

Zack stood frowning. How could she not have heard what he said? Was she afraid of
him? Did she think he was going to mug her or something?

‘My family’s camping up there a ways.’ He waved a hand vaguely. ‘They sent me to pick up something for breakfast. What time do you open?’

The woman pulled another box off the tray and carried it to the door.

‘We’re going to be around here for a while and there’s not a whole lot for kids to do. You wouldn’t have a job I could do? Sweeping
or stacking, something like that. Just for a few days.’

Having set the last box with the others, the woman walked around to the front of the truck, opened the driver’s door and got in.

Suddenly the Bad Boy was in Zack’s head. What was wrong with her? Even if she was deaf or didn’t speak English she could at least look at him.

He stepped up and rapped on her window. ‘Hey, lady, I just –’

The
engine roared and the truck shot forward.

Zack jumped away from the spinning wheels. He stood staring after it, mouth agape, then picked up a handful of gravel and threw it.

Not deaf. Not stupid. The bitch was crazy!

A mile up the road, Shyler forced herself to slow down. The steering wheel was shaking so badly in her hands she feared she might veer off into a tree.

Encountering children was
always bad. Like yesterday in the doctor’s office. At least she’d been half prepared for it then. Unexpected encounters were worse. Especially with boys. And especially when they looked so much –

But could that be any excuse for her actions?

She sat up taller and raised her chin. On this occasion she’d done what she had to – avoided his gaze, refused to speak, gave no indication she’d even heard
him. All necessary considering what would have happened otherwise. She was sure he would understand if he knew.

But he didn’t know.

She slumped. Oh, God, what must he have thought? Kids lacked confidence at the best of times. To have an adult completely ignore him, treat him like he didn’t exist, wasn’t important . . .

She gripped the wheel.

And what if he’d been in some kind of trouble? Needed
her help? What if he’d been lost or hurt or –

The jaws slammed shut. She stamped on the brakes.

Clutching the wheel so tightly it hurt, she began the count. Inhale – one . . . two . . . three . . .

Her body fought her with every beat, prodding her to renew her flight. Sweat trickled between her breasts, turning her bra to a cold damp vice around her chest.

Seven . . . eight . . .

The muscles
of her legs quaked so badly she could barely keep her foot on the pedal. The usual countermeasures weren’t working. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. Just the thought she might one day again be responsible . . .

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. ‘I am alone. There is no one else. No one needs me to keep them safe.’

With the words a sob escaped her lips, a spasm so sharp
it broke the paralysis. She chanted the phrase in her head and out loud. With each repetition the band constricting her chest eased further. On the fifth, it fell away completely. She hauled in an unencumbered breath. Her arms, trembling and weak from exertion, dropped to her sides.

She rested her head back against the seat.

No one needs me
. So painful a truth. For any sane person a cause for
despair.

For her, the lifeline to which she must cling.

‘You coming home for lunch? Got a chicken I can roast.’

‘Save it for dinner, Dad, I can’t today. Have to talk to Doc Muir about something.’ Turning from the counter with his plate and mug, Chase took a seat at the kitchen table across from his father.

‘Muir the fella you took over from? Thought he’d left town.’

‘According to Elaine he’s still around. At least I hope so.’

Chase took
a thoughtful bite of his toast. He’d been unable to shake his niggling concerns regarding the woman who’d come to his clinic the day before. He was hoping a quick conversation with Muir would shed some light on Shyler’s situation. One way or another he had to put his mind at rest.

‘Sounds important,’ his father said.

‘Sorry?’

‘Whatever you need to see Muir about.’

‘Well, I’m hoping it’s nothing
but, yes, it could be.’

‘Anything you want to talk about? You’re not sick, are you?’

‘No, Dad, I’m fine.’

‘Must be the office then. Problems with the building? I told you you should’ve had a builder check it out first.’

‘It’s not the building, it’s regarding a patient.’

‘Yeah? Which one?’

Chase simply shifted his gaze to the man.

‘Oh, come on, that confidentiality nonsense doesn’t apply
to your own father.’