“I dunno,” I say. “There’s been some weird energy between you two, so I figured something’s going on.”
Lucas stands taller and brushes his long hair away from his eyes. His full, soft lips are slightly parted, and once again that quiet intensity is drawing me in.
“Why are you so interested, anyway?” he asks. “You’re kind of nosy for the new girl around here. Are you really a nanny, or some kind of undercover reporter?”
I gulp, but maintain a neutral expression. “I guess I’m just a nosy nanny.” I laugh awkwardly. “But it’s not like I don’t have a good reason to ask questions. You’re the one who kissed a woman who vanished the next day.”
“What are you suggesting? That I did something to her? Think we met in the middle of the night for a hookup and now she’s somewhere in the woods, buried under sticks and leaves for thecoyotesto find?”
Shit.He knows I made up the coyote story, and he’s probably figured out why. Note to self: Lucas isn’t someone to be taken lightly. Best course of action is to redirect.
“You still didn’t answer—are you and Taylor an item?”
His playful grin is even more self-assured than before. “Why? Are you interested?” He takes a step toward me.
His candor catches me off guard, and sadly, he’s right. I am interested. Part of me hopes he is unattached (and not dangerous). I stop those thoughts before they can sprout roots. Getting involved with the subject of my inquiry (who is also still inhigh school) doesn’t exactly meet my standards for journalistic integrity.
“I’m just curious, that’s all. You’ve been cagey about it, and so has she.”
“Maybe some things are better left a mystery,” he replies, and leaves it at that. He turns away and resumes walking the trail.
We march in silence. I’m supposed to return with some breathtaking discovery that will meet Taylor’s expectations, but all I’ve acquired is a blister on my right heel.
At least we’re no longer going downhill. The flat ground is easier on my calves, but tall trees block my view of the lake, so I have no idea how much farther we have to go. It all looks the same to me.
Lucas has been quiet, leaving me to obsess over how I mishandled things. When he turns around, I think he’s giving me a second chance.
“I have to pee,” he says.
Not exactly what I was hoping for, but I actually have to do the same.
“You go that way, I’ll go this way. See that rock over there?” He points to a sizable boulder, the top of which sticks up from the earth like an iceberg poking out of the water. “We’ll meet there.”
“Fine,” I say, and I leave the path, bushwhacking to a secluded spot where I feel safe to go.
As I relieve myself, I try not to dwell on all the places ticks can hide. This is so much easier for a guy. I readjust my clothes and wander back to the path, trying to retrace my steps, but the sameness of the forest is disorienting. My heart rate ticks up a couple notches as I scour the ground for imprints my feet left in the soil or a branch I might have broken.
I think I’m headed the right way, but I also think I should have reached the main trail by now. I’m about to cry out for help, when to my delight, the vegetation thins and I return to what I’m sure is the designated meeting spot.
I look for the pointy rock and there it is. But I see other rocks that are similar, buried in the ground all around me. But no, I’m confident this is the right rock. So where is Lucas?
I wait. Maybe he had to do more than a pee.Gross.As theminutes slip by, I grow increasingly anxious. I recall how Rick navigated these trails with ease and referenced all the times Lucas had done this hike.
Did he leave me here as payback?
“Lucas! Lucas!”
I race ahead on what I believe is the trail, but how can I be sure? Every tree, every rock, even the ground itself all looks the same as I remember, but different, too.
My anger at Lucas gives way to a gnawing fear. The trees loom over me, no longer peaceful; they’ve become threatening. The sky barely peeks through their dense branches. Dark shadows converge around me, obscuring the path. I check my phone. No signal. No way to GPS my way home.
Panic grips me. I run forward, continuing to call for Lucas. At some point, I realize that the path I thought I was following is gone. All that’s there is thick undergrowth, a blanket of dead leaves and pine needles underfoot.
Will I become the next unexplained disappearance? I have a dim hope that Lucas is merely playing a sick game. I stop to listen, praying I’ll hear an obnoxious giggle, something to signal it’s a bad joke. But all is silent, except for the blood rushing through my ears. My terror deepens with each step to nowhere.
Walking isn’t an option. I’m running now, even though I remember something about staying in one place if you’re lost. But I keep hearing another voice—this one as irrational as it is demanding, telling me to move, that the right trail is just ahead, and all I have to do is keep going to find it.
My head whips around as I plunge through branches that claw at my face like an attacking animal. I’m moving too fast, but I can’t slow down. Fear makes me reckless. Every step, I hope, will reveal a sign, some familiar marker, anything to orient me, but it never does.
