“It’s really happening,” Sierra said. “We’re having a baby.”

    “We sure are,” Maggie said.

    Quite beyond her deliberate control, Sierra took such comfort in these small things—a new niece making ready for an appearance, a brother and sister-in-law who were thrilled she was near and always looking out for her, a strong boyfriend and a welcoming and bucolic setting in which to live. The end of summer brought later sunrises so she was having her morning coffee with Sully on the porch, in the dark. The approach of dawn brought out those campers who thrived on the early, early morning—the photographers and the hunters—who brought their coffee to the porch before 6:00 a.m. for a visit. They were friendly, outgoing folks, typical of campers she’d gotten to know over the summer months. Private, standoffish people didn’t seem to frequent campgrounds like the Crossing.

    Life really did seem so mild, safe and carefree. Sierra nearly forgot there was anything to worry about, any unknown threat of any kind looming in the back of her mind.

    Until she was driving to work early Thursday morning.

           Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.

    —Helen Keller

    Chapter 18

    THERE WAS A car behind her and she felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck. She frowned into the rearview mirror, not understanding where that car could have come from. It hadn’t come from Sully’s and she rarely passed or was followed by another vehicle this early in the morning. She thought about turning around and heading back to the Crossing, but that would be difficult on this road.

    But surely that was just an innocent car. Hunters? But hunters almost always had SUVs or trucks and this appeared to be a small sedan. As it gained on her she realized that no, it was not just an innocent car. It was someone who had been waiting for just such an opportunity. And that could only be one person. Instantly, her foot hit the gas and she sped away. The driver was a man. She could not make out his features in the rearview mirror but as he accelerated, there was only one possibility. And his car almost caught up to her so easily because she was in the pumpkin and the poor, dear pumpkin just didn’t have the kind of power most late model cars had.

    And she was still so far from town, unsure she’d make it before he could crash into her or run her off the road.

    On a whim, she took the turnoff to Cal’s barn. It was closer than town. There was no one there unless Tom was getting a very early start since he wouldn’t be waking the occupants. But she could get inside and lock herself in. She had a key to Cal’s house right on her key ring. And once in the house she could call for help. She could press her alarm button—the noise wouldn’t serve any purpose, lost in the countryside, but it would signal Connie’s cell phone...if Connie even had his cell phone nearby. For all she knew he could be out on a call, some early-morning heart attack out on a ranch.

    But never mind, it was only important to get herself into a safe fortress and hope to be able to hold him off until help could arrive. She roared down the road toward her brother’s house. Mother Nature was trying her best to foil her—the road was blocked by a small herd of elk and she laid on the horn with all her might. They barely moved and she scooted that little pumpkin onto the shoulder and wove carefully through them. Seven of them, one bull. And apparently in no hurry.

    She heard a horn and looked into the rearview mirror—they had closed ranks around him and he couldn’t move. She sped down the road, digging in her purse as she drove. She grabbed her cell phone and her pepper spray and less than five minutes later, pulled right up to the door and ran from the car so fast she didn’t even put it in Park. He was just pulling into the clearing as she fumbled with the keys. A small squeak of panic escaped her as she tried to get the key in the lock, the door open. Just as she was getting inside she saw him running toward her and yes, it was him. Derek or Craig, or whoever else he was now pretending to be. She whirled inside and locked the door behind her. She depressed the alarm button and sent the noise screaming into the air.

    He rattled the door immediately. She backed away from it. She went as far back into the house as she dared to get away from the noise and yet be able to see the door. She dialed 9-1-1.

    “Emergency,” the operator said.

    “This is Sierra Jones and I’m being pursued by a rapist. I think his name is Craig Dixon and the police are after him. He followed me and I’m locked in my brother’s house.”

    “Address?”

    “Crap,” she said. “I have no idea! Conrad Boyle, firefighter in Timberlake, he knows. Please! Please! He’s trying to get in. Please!”

    “Where is the house, ma’am,” the operator asked.

    “It’s a barn turned into a house and it’s in the country, isolated, right between Sullivan’s Crossing and Timberlake. Crap.” She shoved her phone in her pocket and ran to the kitchen and lifted the cordless. She dialed 9-1-1 again.

    “Emergency,” the operator said.

    “Help! Help! The house is on fire and I’m trapped!” Then she laid down the phone with the line still open and grabbed her cell phone just as the door was kicked open. She hit the speed dial for Connie’s number but she didn’t have time to say anything. She put the phone down in the shrieking din of her alarm and backed away, holding her pepper spray behind her back. Terrified, she knew she’d have to let him get close for it to be effective. And his approach was so slow. Her alarm stopped. The silence almost echoed.

    “Well, clever girl, you tricked me,” he said.

    “No,” she said, shaking her head.

    “How do you expect me to find you if you stop going to bars?” He turned around, kicked the door closed and then methodically pushed the heavy picnic table against the door. She noticed his strong arms, his muscled back and shoulders and was terrified. For the first time she found it strange that he didn’t seem to carry a weapon. But his strength was his weapon. Oh dear God, don’t let Connie get hurt, she prayed. She was backed right up against the kitchen counter.