No One To Trust

“No, no, I’m okay,” she said in a hushed tone. “That’s from Ralph.” She pointed to where Ralph was relieving himself in the tall grass. “Just a flesh wound. He’ll be okay.” She glanced down at Jon’s makeshift bandage. “What about you?”

“A flesh wound, too,” he quietly assured her. “I can run fairly well.”

“You and Ralph are fortunate,” she said.

“Yeah. Officer Krantz is a bad shot.”

“Officer Krantz?” she whispered.

“I noticed the name on his badge when we were scuffling.”

“There’s no way he’s a real cop.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Or if he is, he’s a crooked one.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We better get moving. My guess is he’s following. I’d hoped you’d gone the other way.”

“I planned to turn back in a while. I was headed for the creek, hoping to hide my footprints.” She pointed to the fog bank. “Then I was going to cut across the beach and double back in the surf.”

Jon stared at her in wonder. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was going to do, too.”

“But I thought the creek was closer.” She frowned.

“It’s still about a mile down the beach.” He stooped over to pick up Ralph. “We better get—” He stopped to the sound of rustling grass—and there was no wind blowing. “Go,” he whispered to her. “Fast.”

Before he could stop her, she grabbed Ralph from his arms. And then she took off and he followed. They hadn’t gone twenty feet before he heard the sound of a gunshot—and unless he was wrong, the source was from a high-powered rifle this time—not a revolver. “Stay low,” he called out as he followed her.

Despite the pain in his leg, he knew he had to run with every ounce of his strength. Not that he could keep pace with her. And for that he was glad. If Krantz was going to catch one of them, he wanted it to be him. To his surprise, the woman was heading inland now, going right into the rolling dunes, which would put them out in the open for a few dangerous seconds. But realizing her strategy—hoping to outrun Krantz through the uneven ups and downs of the sand dunes—he followed. Two more shots rang out just as she made it into the cover of the grassy area and one more before he dived into the grass, rolling down the hill toward her. Even though they were leaving a trail by running through the valley in this dune, he knew this was their best hope. To wear Krantz out and to convince him that they were heading for the jetty. If only Jon didn’t expire first.

After about fifteen minutes of running up and down dune hills, the woman stopped to wait for him. He could barely breathe, let alone talk, but he pointed toward the ocean.

“The creek?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded. And now they jogged through another section of dune grass, working their way toward the bluff. Jon’s mind was racing now. Who was this Krantz guy anyway? He had to be involved in something really sinister.

Jon’s chest felt as if it were about to burst as they reached the bluff. To his dismay the fog bank hadn’t made it all the way across the beach yet.

“Do you think we lost him?” the woman asked between breaths.

“Don’t know,” he gasped.

“Should we go for it?” She pointed toward the creek that cut across the beach.

He just nodded. And together they scrambled and slid down the sandstone face of the bluff. When they reached the beach level, he motioned to her to wait, pressing his back against the concave rock wall. Just in case Krantz was up above. Straining his ears, he listened, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the waves. He looked out to where the fog bank was slowly crawling across the sand.

“Should we wait for the fog?” she whispered.

He looked at the bluff overhead, imagining a winded Krantz posted up there with his powerful rifle. They would be easy pickings, making their way through the creek. Jon patted a damp driftwood log that the tide had pushed up against the bluff wall. “Let’s wait.”

“Let me fix that,” she said quietly, pointing to the bandage he’d made from a shirt. “I’m nearly done with nursing school.” She handed Ralph to him. “Might as well put it to use.” She knelt down and went to work.

“Thanks.” He used his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired before.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “It’s not a deep wound.” She bound it up more tightly, tying the sleeves of his shirt into a more secure knot and tucking the loose pieces into his makeshift bandage. “Hopefully that’ll hold awhile.”

Jon held a finger to his lips, nodding to where he thought he’d heard a noise up above them. Just then some small stones tumbled down. He slipped his hand around Ralph’s snout to muzzle him, holding him close to his chest. The sound of barking could prove lethal for all of them right now.

The girl looked down at Ralph and, as if sensing the dog’s fear at being muzzled like this, she gently stroked his head and scratched his ears. Jon could feel the small animal slowly relaxing. And still up against the wall and not moving, they remained silently frozen in place for about ten or fifteen minutes. Long enough to catch their breath, and hopefully long enough for Krantz to move on.

Jon nodded to where the fog was nearly to the bluff. He pointed at the woman now, silently indicating that she should remain put while he ventured out. His thinking was that, if he was visible from the bluff above, he’d make an easy potshot—for someone with good aim, that is. But if the cop was going to take him out, Jon wanted the woman to still have a chance. So, holding the muzzled dog, he headed out in the stream, hoping and praying that the fog was thick enough to conceal him—and at the same time bracing himself for the sound of shots and the impact of bullets...and death. But at least she would be safe...or so he hoped. Why hadn’t he gotten her name?

Finally, just as it grew hard to see her, he waved with one hand, motioning for her to join him—and hoping she would hurry. To his relief, she sprinted through the creek, and now they ran full speed toward the ocean, where their footsteps would be washed away forever. Turning north, they continued running through the surf. But it would be at least an hour before they reached safety—if that were even possible. And that was only if they ran at full speed—which Jon wasn’t sure he could do.

“You’re faster,” Jon said breathlessly. “Take the lead.”

“No,” she firmly told him. “I want to stay with you. Your leg’s wounded.” She held out her hands. “Let me carry Ralph—it’s the least I can do.”

He reluctantly relinquished the dog, trying to run faster, but soon realized it took all his energy just to maintain a fast jog. “What’s your name?” he huffed as he struggled to keep pace with her, water splashing with each step.

“Leah,” she told him. “Leah Hampton.”

“I’m Jon.” He gasped for air. “Jon Wilson.”

“Nice to meet you, Jon.” She smiled, and for a moment he felt the sun had burst through the fog, and his steps grew lighter.

“In a while,” he huffed, “we’ll run—beside the water. The tide—coming in—hide our footprints.”

“Good idea.” She nodded. “We’ll make better time that way.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” he puffed. “I hope.”

So many questions were tumbling through his head, but it was impossible to ask them. Who was she? Where did she live? Why had she been stopped? It took all his energy just to keep moving—and moving quickly. His only hope was that they would outrun and outwit Krantz. But even if they made it back to his parents’ beach house without being caught or shot, they would still be cut off from most of the world. There was no landline there, and Jon’s cell phone was useless in these parts.

Not only that, but his Fiat was in the garage with its carburetor removed and totally dismantled. It had seemed a good idea yesterday. So, other than his parents’ three-wheeled bikes and his dad’s less than dependable quad runner, they would have no transportation. And the nearest vacation cabins—as far as Jon had observed this past week—were all empty right now. The closest “civilization” was a little mom-and-pop store four miles away that kept random hours in the off-season. And then it was another eight miles to town.

When Jon had asked to borrow his parents’ beach cabin as a “getaway” he hadn’t planned on getting away quite like this. He peered through the fog toward the dark shadow of the bluff that ran alongside the beach. In places where the fog was patchy, he could see clear to the top of it. Could Krantz see them, too?

“We gotta move faster,” he huffed at Leah, as if she were the one slowing them down, when he knew she could’ve been a mile ahead by now.

“Here.” She held Ralph close to her with one arm, hooking the other arm into his, and then, keeping stride—pace for pace—she gradually increased the speed, pushing him harder and harder. If the crazy cop didn’t shoot him, he’d probably drop dead from a heart attack right here on the beach before long. But at least he’d have a beautiful woman by his side.

THREE

Leah knew she was pushing Jon too hard, but the image of that cop’s enraged face and the way he’d pulled out his gun seemed to be driving her. It was obvious that if “Officer” Krantz found them again, he would shoot first and ask questions later...if they were even alive later. As it was, she suspected Krantz wanted them both dead. But why?

She glanced at Jon, knowing that he was exhausted and in pain. He probably couldn’t last much longer, but she knew they had to keep moving—had to find safety. Jon had said “home,” but she wasn’t even sure what that meant. Did he live along this beach somewhere? She thought most, if not all, of the homes along here were vacation cabins. In fact, she’d been warned by several people that this desolate part of the beach wasn’t a safe place for a lone runner during the “off-season.” Too bad she hadn’t listened.

Jon’s pace slowed and then he stopped completely. Bending over and clasping his sides, he panted loudly, trying to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly. “Was the pace too much?”

“No,” he gasped. “Need speed.”

“I know.” She peered through the fog, spotting some thin places where they could be seen and shot at. The sun was going down but not quickly enough to hide them in the darkness.

Still hunched over, Jon nodded toward shore. “Turn here.”

“Let’s go.” She linked his arm again, tugging him into the creek.

Jon stumbled a couple of times, but she managed to keep him on his feet. And it wasn’t long before they were across the stretch of beach. From there Jon led them alongside the bluff until he finally stopped at what appeared to be some steep stone steps, carved right into the bluff. “This way,” he puffed.

Still cradling Ralph in her arms, she let Jon lead the way up the steps, giving him nudges with her shoulder when his footsteps slowed. She knew he was struggling. He’d lost blood and was dehydrated. Even though the gunshot wound didn’t look too serious, it had to be hurting. And if it didn’t get cleaned out, infection could set in.

Through the fog, a large dark shape emerged before them on top of the bluff. It appeared to be a house and as they got closer, she saw that it was made of dark gray stone, similar to the rocky cliff it sat upon. Relief washed through her as Jon led them through an overgrown hedge and across a mossy patio to a back door. He dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts, producing a key. Before long, he’d unlocked the door and led her inside to an enclosed porch that was also a laundry room. “Must lock up,” he said between breaths. “No lights.”

Still panting, Jon locked the porch door, then quickly punched some numbers into a keypad that must’ve been linked to a security system. That was somewhat reassuring. He led them into what appeared to be a kitchen, locking that door, as well. Only illuminated by the last rays of dimming gray light, the old-fashioned room looked slightly eerie—almost like a scene from an old horror movie. Leah suddenly wondered what she was doing here—with a perfect stranger—or if she was even safe. After all, she didn’t even know this man. Not really. Still, it was better than being out there with the crazy cop imposter.

Leah’s mind attempted to replay the mad race up and down the beach, the gunshots, being stopped by the cop. It all felt surreal now. The fact that a “cop” wanted them dead was mind-boggling. In fact, none of this made any sense. How had she gotten herself into such a mess? But somehow, holding the warm little dog in her arms and seeing Jon’s stressed but handsome face peering curiously at her brought a sense of reassurance to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I kind of feel like I’m in shock.”

“Me, too.” Jon was still breathing heavily as he reached for Ralph. “Thanks. For helping with him.”

“We need to hydrate,” she told him.

He retrieved a couple of water bottles from a case sitting on the counter, handing her one. As she opened it, Jon filled a bowl with water, setting it on the floor for Ralph to lap. Then he took a long swig from the water bottle.

“You should probably have something besides just straight water to hydrate.” She glanced around the small kitchen. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could take in the surroundings. Old-fashioned cabinets, a small kitchen table, a gas stove with pots hanging above it. “Your electrolytes are probably low. Do you have some juice or soda or something?”

“Here.” Jon handed her a beach towel. “Hold that up while I open the fridge—to block the light from showing—just in case anyone’s around to see it.” She held up her “screen” as he opened the fridge. He quickly snagged a bottle of orange juice and a couple of sodas, then closed the door. “There.” He handed her a can of soda.

“We need to cleanse your wound,” she said after she nearly drained her water bottle. “And Ralph’s, too. Do you have any first-aid supplies here? And is there a place where we can turn on more lights so that I can examine the wounds?”

Jon pointed at the window above the sink. “Light will leak through those shutters.” He carried Ralph toward a dark hallway. “But we can black out the bathroom window. And there’s a first-aid kit in there.”

As Leah followed him, she noticed lights flashing in another part of the house. “Jon,” she whispered urgently, tugging on his shirt. “Look!”

As he turned around, she motioned for him to bend down low, pointing to a window in the front of the house where the light had flashed through. “It looked like some sort of searchlight,” she whispered.

“Here.” He slipped Ralph into her arms. “Keep him quiet. And go down the hallway. First door to your right is the basement. Go lock the door, and muzzle him while I investigate.”

* * *

Staying low, Jon crept into the front room in time to spot a police cruiser slowly driving by, flashing a searchlight all around the yard and finally moving on to do the same to the next cabin. This wasn’t the unmarked car that Krantz had been driving, but a well-marked cruiser that was obviously looking for someone. Not good news, since it seemed to suggest that Krantz might really have police connections after all.

Jon watched as the cruiser slowly made its way to the next cabin, once again sweeping it with a bright beam of light, shining it up and down and all around with dogged determination. How long would it take them to figure out that he and Leah were holed up here? And what then?

Staying low, Jon made his way to the basement door, quietly tapping on it, whispering that it was him and waiting to hear the lock clicking. The door opened and, even in the semidarkness, Jon could sense her fear.

“Is he gone?”

Jon just nodded. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her about the police cruiser just yet. That would probably just scare her even more. It had certainly shaken him to think that Krantz wasn’t working alone.

“What should we do?” she asked.

“We need a plan.”

“And we need to tend those wounds,” she told him.

He led her to the bathroom, where he hung several towels over the flimsy curtain that covered the small window. But, still not convinced the towels would keep out the light, he got a roll of duct tape, then securely taped all the possible cracks, finally turning on the light above the sink. They both blinked at the brightness of the room, and Ralph actually wagged his tail. Jon grabbed another towel, shoving it against the crack at the bottom of the door. Just in case.

“Poor little guy.” Leah set Ralph in the claw-foot tub. “We need to clean you up.” She turned to Jon. “But I suggest we do you first.” She frowned as she started to scrub out the sink. “I wish we could boil some water.”

“Really?” He frowned. “I thought that was just in movies.”

“Do you have rubbing alcohol?”

“My mom probably does. Dad teases her that she should’ve been a doctor instead of a lawyer.” He opened the large linen closet where his mom stocked all sorts of medical things, including a first-aid kit that he handed to her. Then he started reading the labels from various bottles. “Cough suppressant, aspirin, hydrogen peroxide, milk of magnesia, Neosporin, witch hazel, iodine, rubbing alcohol—”

“Impressive.” She reached for the rubbing alcohol, using it to douse the already cleaned sink, then, plugging the drain, she filled it with warm water, then added a little more rubbing alcohol. “To purify the water,” she explained as she removed some clean washcloths from a nearby shelf. “Why don’t you take a seat on the edge of the tub? Less messy that way.”

Jon petted Ralph as he sat on the edge of the tub, trying not to wince as Leah meticulously cleansed the wound and surrounding area. She applied some iodine around the wound, then Neosporin on the wound.

“It looks pretty clean,” she told him. “From what I can see, it’s not deep enough to harm muscle.” As she pushed a piece of gauze onto the opening, Jon took in a sharp breath. “Sorry,” she said as she pushed another layer of gauze over the first one, securing them with adhesive medical tape. “You could probably use some stitches, but this should hold you for a while.” She looked up at him with a puzzled expression. “I mean, I don’t even know what we’re going to do from here. But this should keep infection at bay.” She stood up straight, reaching for the bottle of disinfecting hand soap again. “And now it’s your turn, Ralph.”

Jon swung his legs around, drying them on a towel, then moving out of the way. He watched with interest as she tended to Ralph, talking gently to him the whole time as she washed the blood off his coat, then finally cleansed and bandaged his wound.

“You’re really good at this.” Jon handed her a clean towel, waiting as she wrapped it around Ralph, gently absorbing the water. “I know my mom will be appreciative that you rescued her dog. Thanks, Leah.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” She stood up straight as Ralph gave a shake to his coat. “If you and Ralph hadn’t shown up when you did—” She visibly shuddered. “Well, I can’t even imagine where I’d be right now. But I’m sure it wouldn’t be good.” Fear washed over her features again. “What if he comes back, Jon? What will we do?”

“Just what we’re doing now? Act like nobody’s home. There’s no reason he should suspect we’re in this particular house. I’ve been a hermit since I got here. And I haven’t seen a single neighbor around. No one knows that I’m here.”

“So you think he’s just checking all the houses along here?”

“That’s my guess.”

She pointed at Ralph. “But what if he comes back? What if he knocks on the door, and Ralph barks and gives us away?”

“He doesn’t normally do that. In fact, that whole thing with Krantz was totally out of character for old Ralph.”

“But he’s been through a lot,” she said. “Maybe he’s not being his normal self.”

“Good point. Being in pain might be a factor.” Jon went to the linen closet again. “My mom sometimes gives Ralph tranquilizers during long car trips. The vet prescribed them to help with Ralph’s anxiety. I gave him one for our trip down here from Portland. Worked like a charm.” He found the bottle and held it up. “Voilà.”

“And good rest helps patients to heal.”

He slipped the bottle of pills into his pocket. “I’ll need to put it into some canned dog food to get it down.” Jon frowned as he remembered the police cruiser. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Realizing she was shivering, he decided to wait. “But first you need some dry, warm clothes to wear. We both do.”

She looked down at her running clothes, then glumly nodded.

“You’re probably about the same size as my mom.” He studied her slender figure as she wrapped the towel around Ralph again, picking him up. “Well, thinner, but I’ll go grab something for you.”

“Better turn off the light before you open the door,” she warned as she sat on the toilet seat lid, cradling Ralph in her lap like an infant. “Just in case.”

“Yeah.” He clicked off the light, then slipped out into the darkness, feeling his way down the hallway to his parents’ room, where despite the drapes he was still reluctant to turn on a light. He fumbled his way over to the closet, wishing he’d thought to grab a flashlight. But, feeling around, he finally located what felt like a set of warm-ups hanging on a hook on the back of the door. His mom’s favorite beach garb—sweatpants and a hoodie sweatshirt. Even if they were a little too big for Leah, they would be clean and warm.

* * *

Leah talked quietly to Ralph as they sat in the pitch-black darkness together. “It’s okay, boy,” she said gently. “You’re going to be okay now.” She knew her words were as much for her as for him, but it was reassuring to feel him starting to relax a little.

But she jumped as the bathroom door opened. “I found something for you,” Jon said as he closed the door, then turned on the light. He held up a velour jogging suit.

“Purple,” she said with raised brows. “Interesting.”

He frowned. “Sorry. It was dark in there. I couldn’t see the color.”

“I’m not complaining.” She smiled. “I’ve just never been a fan of purple.” She reached to touch the soft fabric. “But it does look warm. Thanks!”

“I’ll get this guy some food.” Jon took Ralph from her. “Go ahead and clean up and change. Just douse the light before you come out because I, uh, I noticed the police car still cruising around out there.”

“You mean Krantz’s unmarked car?” she asked with concern.

Jon’s brow creased. “No, it’s a marked car.”

“A marked car? A real police car?”

“Yeah. From the city. According to my parents, they don’t usually patrol out here much. I mean, we’re out of the city limits. But the county doesn’t patrol these parts at all. So I guess they’ve sort of contracted it to the city. But my dad always says it’s kind of a no-man’s-land out here.”

Half of what he said went over her, but the one fact she could hold on to was that a police cruiser was patrolling around, probably looking for them, and it wasn’t Krantz. “What does this mean?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure.” He pointed to the purple warm-ups. “You’re cold. Get those on and I’ll go feed Ralph some food and a tranquilizer. And then we can talk.” He sighed. “And attempt to figure this mess out.”

“It is a mess, isn’t it?”

He just nodded, turning off the light, then opening the door and leaving, closing the door behind him.

Ten minutes later Leah emerged from the bathroom considerably warmer and dryer in Jon’s mother’s sweatpants and hoodie, having freshened up a bit in the sink, rinsed her soiled running clothes and hung them in the bathtub to dry. A real bath sounded lovely. But not here. Not now. Not with Krantz and his “pals” prowling the neighborhood. What was going on anyway?

As she tiptoed through the unlit and quiet kitchen, she noticed lights outside and suddenly, like before, the bright beam was passing through the house’s interior again. Afraid her silhouette might show up, she hit the floor, waiting behind the kitchen doorway as the startling searchlight swept over the premises. Had they figured it out?