by Jo McNally
Would you like me to give you a vehicle count daily?
She didn’t need that, of course, but she couldn’t resist.
Yes, please. Thanks for offering.
He didn’t respond, but she could picture him muttering a few curse words as he read her reply. Friday—so far—had been uneventful. His morning text had been strictly factual. Just a quick message that a one-vehicle crew was heading up. Oddly enough, the back and forth all week with Matt had energized Jillie. She’d started timing her days around them, using the morning text as her signal to stop writing—which she usually started early—and grab another cup of coffee. Then she’d write until around one, eat a light lunch, take a walk with Sophie and do business tasks if she had any—emails, social media, phone calls. She tried not to spend more than an hour on that stuff before she got back to her writing for a few more hours. Once she got Matt’s daily afternoon text letting her know the crew was on their way down, she’d break for dinner and relax for the evening with a good book or movie.
But today she’d already stopped writing when Matt’s text came through that the workers were finished for the afternoon and were leaving. He’d followed it up with a sarcastic still just one vehicle. It made her laugh. She’d just completed a pivotal scene in the book and liked the result, so she was in a good mood. She wasn’t going to push her luck by picking a fight.
She’d done some cleaning and organizing in the kitchen. She called out to Sophie after hearing the truck go down the access road. The big dog was stretched out on the floor by the ceiling-high windows in the great room, soaking up a bit of early November sunshine. Sophie scrambled to her feet, going from sound asleep to let’s go! as soon as Jillie picked up her leash.
Sophie was an emotional therapy dog dropout. She’d been trained to detect and alleviate anxiety attacks, which she was good at. She could sense Jillie’s moods, and would notice nervous reactions like Jillie rubbing her legs over and over or rocking back and forth. Sophie would get right in Jillie’s face to distract her, making eye contact. The closeness would slow her breathing to match Sophie’s.
But a certified therapy dog needed to accompany their human in public places, and Sophie had proved to be too...enthusiastic...for that. She was easily distracted in crowds or shops, especially as a young dog in training. She’d wanted to play. Instead of fetching a cell phone and delivering it to her human to call for help, she was more likely to run away and chew on it for a while.
Sophie’s inability to behave in public spaces was no problem for Jillie, since she avoided public spaces, anyway. When her assistant, Nia, saw the school’s ad online three years ago, offering “semi-therapy” dogs that hadn’t quite made the grade, she’d sent the information to Jillie. And Sophie had arrived a month later, a headstrong adolescent pup who’d taken one look at Jillie and bonded immediately. The feeling was mutual. Sophie gave her a reason to get up and move, and she felt safe with the dog at her side. It was good to have someone to be responsible for. Someone to keep her company. Someone to bark at her, like Sophie was doing right now, to get her out of her head and out the door.
They headed up Watcher Mountain, sticking to familiar paths. The sun was setting, reminding her that days were rapidly getting shorter. There had already been a few light snow flurries, but nothing had accumulated. November was upon them, though, so it was only a matter of time. She pulled her jacket tight against the chilly wind. It was time to break out her real winter gear, like the down vests and heavier sweaters. Sophie was off-leash, running up ahead, when Jillie came to an abrupt stop. Were those voices she heard behind her?
There were definitely people talking, and it sounded like a group of people. On her mountain. She called out to Sophie, who’d run on ahead, then pulled her phone out. It had to be more of Matt’s workers. That was the only explanation. Except the sun was setting and it was getting late for any work to be accomplished. Maybe they forgot something again.
Did your workers come back up the mountain?
At first, she didn’t think he was going to answer.
Relax, okay? They’re done for the week.
She frowned. That didn’t make sense.
Then who’s on the mountain? I hear voices.
His answer was swift and annoyed.
Not my people. Not my problem.
She may have carried their little game too far, which is what happened when you didn’t have much practice at playing. He thought she was being a pest. There was a burst of laughter from down the trail. Those people were on her land. Between her and the cabin. Had someone found out where she lived? Who she was? Her chest tightened, squeezing her lungs and quickly making breathing difficult. Sophie was at her side now, leaning into her leg with a soft whine. Jillie started dialing Dan’s number when another text chimed in from Matt. And another.
You okay?
I’m at the house. Where are YOU?
He was at the house? Whose house? More laughter came from down the trail—male and female. Young. They weren’t workers. Maybe a group of trespassing hikers? High school kids goofing off? Or J.L. Cole fans looking for their idol. It didn’t matter. She was trapped. She turned to go higher, Sophie at her heels. The trail was steep this high up, and climbing required breathing. Her lungs were not cooperating. Still she climbed, her eyes focused firmly on the summit. She’d be safe there. That was all she could think. Get to the summit. She couldn’t hear the voices anymore, but that didn’t matter. Just get to the summit. She was beginning to think like Monica in her books—the mountain meant danger. It had always been Jillie’s strength.
She stumbled when her phone rang. She’d forgotten it was still clutched in her hand. That was right...she was going to call Dan. Too late now. Only the summit would help. But she swiped the screen, anyway, breathing out a quick “What?”
Matt’s voice was almost as breathless as hers, as if he’d been running, too. “They’re gone. Just a bunch of damn kids hoping to see Bryce. Where are you, Jillie?”
“Up the mountain with Sophie.” Her panic was pushing her forward, even after learning the danger was past. She never saw the tree root jutting across the trail. She went down with a thud and a curse. Sophie barked, then rushed over to lick Jillie’s face and make soothing eye contact, just the way she’d been taught.
“Jillie? Jillie!” Matt’s voice was yelling through the phone, which had landed a few feet ahead of her. But she could also hear him below her on the trail. He was close. Sophie pushed against her chest, remembering her training. Close contact. Heart to heart. Slowing Jillie’s breathing enough that she was able to call out.
“I’m up here!”
* * *
Matt thought he was in pretty good shape, but running full-speed up Watcher Mountain had his lungs on fire. The adrenaline from his anger and panic hadn’t helped. He’d told Bryce to lay low, but the damn kid never listened to him. He’d been hanging out at the Chalet at night, and word had gotten out to a few ski groupies in the area who’d recognized him. They’d been trying to sneak over to the lodge using the trees to hide their progress. He’d sent them hurrying back down the mountain to their cars after lying and telling them the cops were on the way. And convincing them that an Olympic gold medalist would never be hanging around a run-down ski slope like this one.
Then he’d dashed up the trail, looking for Jillie before darkness descended completely. Hearing her voice through the trees sent a wave of relief through him. He came around a curve in the trail and saw her sitting on the ground. That hellhound of hers was lying across her lap, as if trying to physically console her. Jillie’s hand moved absently in the dog’s fur. She flinched when she saw him. He slid to a stop, holding his hands up in innocence.
“Jillie, it’s me. Are you hurt?”
The dog snarled and barked at him but didn’t leave Jillie’s lap.
“Shush, Sophie.” Jillie’s hand on the dog’s head
silenced her. “I’m okay. I just...need a minute...”
Her chest rose and fell unevenly. She was wide-eyed and pale, her body twitching slightly every few seconds. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. She was about two seconds away from a meltdown. Matt remembered something from his teen years and abruptly sat about fifteen feet away from her. Her head lifted. Even the dog stared at him in confusion.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Matt shrugged. “When Bryce was small, he’d freak out if our parents left for a night out. He’d scream and sob and beat on the door after they left. It was full-drama hysterics. The more I tried to settle him down, the worse he got. One night I sat down on the floor and started playing a board game by myself. Without a participating audience, he calmed down in no time at all, and eventually came to join me, sniffling away his tears.” Matt gestured between them. “I figure I’m less threatening to you at this level, so I’ll just wait until you’re ready.” He looked around the dark shadows under the pines. “It’s gonna be dark soon, but I have a flashlight in my pack, so take your time.”
He slid the small backpack around to his lap and patted it. It was basically an emergency kit—a habit he’d started when Bryce was even more of a loose cannon than he was now. It wasn’t unusual a few years ago to get a late-night call that he’d been doing something stupid with his friends and got hurt or got caught or needed to escape from some girl’s house before her parents—or husband—got home.
Jillie stared for a moment, then shook her head slowly. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “I’ll ignore the suggestion that I’m acting like a toddler, and just say...thank you. For coming here. For getting rid of the people. For...” She gestured toward him, her voice still strained, but a smile playing at her lips. “For sitting down and telling me to take my time.”
“Those kids...” They’d been older teens, maybe a few in their young twenties. They’d seemed sober and genuinely curious. Then again... “They didn’t hassle you, did they?”
She shook her head, staring at the ground. “I don’t think they had any idea I was here. Are you sure they were looking for Bryce? Not someone else?” She blew out a soft breath. “When I heard them I just...freaked out. As you can see.” She gestured to herself.
“Totally understandable. You’re not much for trespassers, as I well know.” Her smile reached her eyes, and he felt a little jolt of something. Something that felt a lot like desire, which made no sense. He traveled too much to deal with complications in his relationships, and this woman was waving complication flags all over the place. He shrugged off that train of thought. “Look, I’m sorry I blew off your first text. I thought...”
“You thought I was crying wolf?” She was spot-on, but he hated to agree. It made him sound like such a jerk. He ran his fingers through his hair, shoving it away from his face.
“I’d had a bad week and a really long day. I reacted without thinking about what you were saying.” He tried to soften his words with a smile. “And let’s be fair—you have been a pain in my ass with your texts.”
Her laughter bubbled up. “Sorry. And sorry again about tonight.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I overreacted...”
“You didn’t.” He slowly stood, and the dog—Sophie—started to growl, until Jillie reached down and touched her fingers to her head. He pulled out his flashlight, knowing it was going to be a tricky walk down the mountain in the shadow of the pines. “Don’t ever hesitate to reach out. We should start down. Why were you climbing so high, anyway?”
“It was automatic. I love this old mountain, especially her craggy summit. In the summer I like to go up there and sit on the warm rocks.”
“I don’t think those rocks would be very warm tonight.” The forecast had included a frost warning.
“I know. I wasn’t thinking—I was in a panic. The rocks felt like they’d be...stronger than me.”
He struggled to dismiss the effect her words had on his heart. She wanted strength. He wanted to provide it. But he wasn’t a mountain. And he had a hunch that a man wasn’t what she was looking for. A man was likely the reason she was in this state.
“Let’s get down this trail before it gets any darker, okay? Are you more comfortable leading or following?”
He knew she was a nervous type. Her friends had refused to confirm it, but he was sure something had happened to her in the past. He didn’t want to make any move that would trigger more fear. She thought about if for a moment, then nodded toward the trail.
“I’ll follow.”
The trail was steep up here, but relatively smooth. The pine needles and fallen leaves made it slippery, so they took it slow. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke over his shoulder.
“You asked if the kids were looking for Bryce and not someone else. Who else would they be looking for?”
She didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if she would at all. A thought came to him and he stopped and looked back at her, surprised to find her only a few feet away.
“Are you in witness protection or something? Are you hiding from someone? You thought you’d been found out?” Jillie hesitated, and Sophie began her usual low growl at him. Clearly, the dog hated his guts but didn’t want to leave her master’s side long enough to devour him. He turned and started walking again. The path was less steep down here. “You know what? Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.” The police chief and her other friends had made that clear. He heard her footsteps behind him.
“After what you did tonight, I guess I owe you an answer. You protect your brother’s whereabouts, so I assume I can trust you to protect mine?”
He waved his hand without looking back. “Of course, you can trust me. I give you my word. But honestly, you don’t owe me anything, Jill.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice flipped a switch, sharp and angry. “My name is Jillie.”
“O-kay. Sorry. I thought it was a nickname.”
“It’s not. My name is Jillie Coleman.”
He could see the lights from her place ahead through the trees. “Got it.”
Her voice softened again. “It’s also J.L. Cole.”
He turned when they got to her yard, beside the tall, narrow A-frame. The deck on the front was at the top of a long flight of wooden stairs. On the side, presumably from a second-floor room, a smaller square deck jutted out from the sloping roofline that swept almost all the way to the ground. He turned her words over in his head, trying to understand what they meant. And why that second name was so familiar. His eyes went wide.
“Wait. The author? The guy who writes all those horror books? That’s you?” With as many hours as he spent on planes traveling with Bryce, he’d become an avid reader of thrillers and the occasional horror novel. Particularly the creepy ones by Cole, whose “bad guys” always seemed so...normal. Until they very definitely weren’t. He smiled. “Obviously not the guy at all. I’ve read all your stuff.”
The motion-activated flood lights around the A-frame—and there were a lot of them—showed the touch of pink that rose in her cheeks.
“I’ve actually never claimed to be a guy, but a lot of people make that assumption. And that’s okay. Female authors often have a hard time getting a foothold in the crime, horror and sci-fi end of publishing. There are successful ones, of course, but it’s still a pretty tight boys’ club within the bigger boys’ club of publishing in general.” She gestured to Sophie to go up the stairs to the deck above them. “And thanks for being a fan. The problem is some fans get...weird. Especially toward female authors. Especially in a genre like horror. They think they know us. That they have some right to express their opinions to us on our books and our characters, and some of those opinions are creepier than my books ever thought of being.”
She didn’t look at him as she spoke. She stared down the mountain beyond the driveway where he’d parked, or more like abandon
ed, his car after getting her texts. Maybe he’d had her all wrong. Maybe she wasn’t a victim of anything more than a few obnoxious fans. Which was enough to make anyone paranoid and jumpy. Matt should know.
“I get it. With social media, people imagine themselves friends with celebrities just because their comment got liked on some photo or video platform. They feel an intimacy that doesn’t exist. It’s bad enough with Bryce being a sports star. People want his autograph, and more than a few want to climb in bed with him.” And Bryce had been more than willing to accommodate those requests over the years. “I hired a bodyguard for Bryce for a while after he won the gold medal. The guy told me it was worse with actors and writers. Their fans imagined themselves involved with fictional characters. They weren’t dealing with reality. He said it makes them more unpredictable...” Matt’s voice fell. “And I’m really not helping things right now by telling you that. Sorry.”
She gave him a fleeting smile. “Nothing I didn’t already know, Matt. I should get inside. Please...I’m trusting you with a secret very few people know.”
“People like Dan Adams and your other friends in town?”
She nodded. “They know how to make me feel safe, you know?”
Matt was shocked at the power of the emotion that struck him at those words. He wasn’t a violent man—he preferred negotiating his way out of problems. But in this instant he urgently wanted to beat the ever-loving daylights out of anyone who’d ever made Jillie feel unsafe. He looked up at the security lights. There were probably cameras up there, too. He swallowed hard, not used to feeling so...so much.
“And your secluded mountainside home with the fancy electronics is part of that safety net? Along with your hellhound?”
Jillie chuckled, looking up to where Sophie was glaring down at Matt from the deck. “Don’t insult my dog. She’s more ther—companionship than protection. Although, her appearance doesn’t hurt.” She shuddered and pulled her jacket tighter.
God, he’d kept her standing out here in the cold and dark while he grilled her with questions.She’d already hinted that it was time for him to go. He scrubbed his hands down his face. He didn’t want to leave her.