Prodigal

Chapter 12

12

Please…

Adam jerked awake with a gasp, heart pounding.

It’s happening again.

He didn’t bother changing his clothes, just threw on his sneakers and his jacket, grabbed his car keys and ran out the door. His hands shook as he put the key in the ignition. The starter whined, but the engine didn’t catch.

“Come on!” he screamed, slamming his hand against the wheel.

This time, the universe listened.

Adam swung the hatchback around, narrowly missing Iris’s sedan, and raced down the driveway. The sky was the silver-gray of an antique mirror, with the objects in the yard clear enough to see but casting no shadows. The dim light faded as he reached the road, with the trees edging out most of the shoulder and a steep mountain bank rising on one side. The road seemed little more than a series of connected curves, and miles slipped by as he concentrated on making the curves as fast as he could without taking out a guardrail. The car’s momentum carried Adam’s body with it—left, right, left, right—and Adam tried not to hang on the steering wheel as his butt slid on the worn seat. His heart hammered and his foot tapped the brake when he saw a reflection ahead—a sign for a hunting lodge. Not his turn yet. He sped up again, hoping the deer were tucked in somewhere asleep already, urging his hatchback to go faster on a brief straight stretch.

Why hadn’t he seen it? It was so obvious.

Was it that obvious with Danny? No, it couldn’t have been. The Sheriff would have checked anyone and everyone close to him. And Danny would have been found. Possibly still alive.

It was that time of early morning when headlights didn’t do anything useful, and his eyes made it even worse. No matter where he focused his gaze, his vision seemed to slide away, eyes unable to hold their position. If he had more time, he’d pull over and throw up. More time, and room to pull over. Adam avoided looking at the dented guardrail when he reached the curve at Dead Hollow, afraid the steering wheel would follow his eyes and he’d find himself reliving another nightmare.

He recognized the turn-off ahead, but at the last moment, Adam realized he hadn’t slowed down enough. There was no one behind him—he should continue safely past the lane and reverse. Except he couldn’t—the anxiety screaming in his brain wouldn’t let him. Instead, Adam geared down and pressed the brake harder, steering against wheels that wanted to lock. The hatchback almost made the corner, until he hit the autumn leaves blanketing the edge of the road on the driver’s side. It might as well have been ice.

“Frick!”

Adam’s stomach pitched like a carnival ride as the wheels lost all traction, producing a sensation of leaving the ground. He jerked the steering wheel in the opposite direction, but it was too late. The front end lurched into the ditch, and he felt more than heard the grating sound as the driver’s side continued slowly forward, dragging farther over the side.

He waited for screaming, for the impact of trees, but there wasn’t any. Just silence.

Except for the humming in his ears. And maybe something mechanical. Adam shut off the car and rested his head against the steering wheel, just for a moment.

He got up before the shaking could start.

Adam popped his door open and stepped out carefully. There wasn’t much ground to step on; he had to swing his leg out and twist toward the back of the car to avoid the ditch. Adam clutched the side of the vehicle as he carefully closed the driver’s door behind him, and kept clinging—palms flat against the car’s body like a prayer—as he worked his way around to the rear of the car. Most of the vehicle was still on the road, but no way was Adam’s four-cylinder, front-wheel drive engine backing the rest of it out.

Hopefully no one would hit the car and knock it the rest of the way into the ditch. Adam put a hand on the rear taillight, muttering an apology, and a shudder ran through his body. He had to move.

A few steps from the car brought Adam to what he thought was the center of the road, but with no flashlight and no brightly painted lines, he had to guess. He turned uphill, took a few more steps, and then his legs buckled, the dirt road biting into his knees and his hands as he fell. Kneeling, head to his knees and fists clenched, he tried to ride out the shaking that finally overcame his body. Eventually the spasms eased, and he tucked his hands behind his head, as if to protect himself.

What the hell am I doing here?

He stared at the dark road ahead, sheltered from the dawn by the shape of the mountain and the thick forest that covered it. A light mist in the air tingled against his face and made the trees looming overhead feel absolutely primordial.

Adam struggled to his feet. Alone.

I’m doing what I wish I could have done twenty years ago.

At least he’d worn his sneakers. He took a deep breath and began running up the steep incline. Soon he found his stride, breath hissing, arms and legs pumping, aware that with every movement forward, he was following in Rachel’s footsteps. And every step was a step closer to reaching her.