Hidden in the Dark (Harper Flagg Book 1)

by Alyson Larrabee

  Last night, after Gabriel had returned from his excursion to Verna Whittier’s neighborhood, he had slept well and dreamed that Harper was running through the woods by his side. The sun shimmered through the trees, speckling her blonde ponytail with moving light. Even though she was just a girl, in his dream, she could match him stride for stride over a long distance.

  According to his fitness app, he was almost down to seven-minute miles now, and he could run several of them at that pace. He hoped Harper could keep up. If not, she would have to train harder. Gabriel was looking forward to supervising Harper’s workouts and diet. They would eat healthy food and exercise together. And, of course, share lots of laughs.

  He needed to pounce when she was alone, though. That was a problem. He should have taken her earlier, before Thomas Flagg and the MacGregor men had joined forces and surrounded her within their protective circle.

  Gabriel’s best crime-scene option was the track behind the high school. Located well beyond the student parking lot, it backed up to the town forest on the far end. During track practice, if Harper broke away from the pack for even a few seconds, he could strike fast. Knock her out and carry her off, before anyone even realized she was gone. He decided to scout out a good parking space on the other side of the woods. From there, he planned to creep through the trees and get close enough so he could watch the track team do their warm-up exercises. After they headed out for a practice run down the trail into the small but dense wooded area beyond the track, he’d hide behind a carefully chosen tree. If she left the other girls behind, he’d leap out, grab her, and press a chloroform-soaked rag to her face. Within seconds, she’d be out cold. He’d scoop her up and whisk her away. The police couldn’t possibly suspect that he’d take such a huge risk: attack her during a sunny afternoon, in a well-populated area. It was a big gamble, but he’d only move forward if the circumstances lined up perfectly. Then she’d be his, and the risk would be worth it.

  Chloroform was an old-fashioned trick but still a good one. A classic. He chuckled. She probably didn’t weigh much, maybe 130 at the most. He’d sling her over his shoulder, carry her to his car, stuff her in the trunk, and take off. Once he had her hidden away in the root cellar, she’d never escape.

  Last week, using one of his fake IDs, he’d bought a small brown bottle of the useful compound at a chemical supply store. The photo on the out-of-state driver’s license had matched his disguise: some temporary hair dye and a fake mustache, brown contact lenses, dorky-looking glasses, and extra padding around the waist. Of course, he had driven to a store out of state, miles away from Eastfield, and paid for the chloroform in cash. Even if the police traced his purchase to that particular store, the customer who had bought it looked nothing like him.

  Today, the chloroform was hidden in Gabriel’s glove box. Beside it sat a clean white cotton rag and a plastic bottle of water for diluting the dangerous chemical. He was ready.

  Cruising by the high-school parking lot, the killer watched MacGregor drop Harper off at the front door. She must be annoyed, riding to school in that silly minivan. He promised himself that when he and Harper were finally together, he’d buy a car that was worthy of her. Something fast and sleek with lots of muscle.

  After the killer watched Harper enter the front door of the school, he headed home, to rest up for his big adventure.

  At around eleven thirty, he drove over to Rocky Hill University. The first step in his plan was to finish off Shane. With the boy’s height and red hair, he’d be easy to spot. The confusion he left in his wake would provide a distraction while he was off kidnapping Harper. Plus, if today’s plan for Harper didn’t work out, at least Shane would be out of the way for the next time. She’d be easier to steal once he was gone. If everything did fall into place, the college athlete would be eliminated, and he’d have Harper hidden away where no one would ever find her: his ultimate dream. He hoped to accomplish it all in one afternoon. The killer smiled, wishing he had a villainous mustache to twirl. He already had the laugh down.

  A sunny day on a busy college campus wasn’t the best setting for a murder, but lots of forestland surrounded the picturesque grounds of Rocky Hill. If he kept a low profile, Gabriel could skulk around and not get noticed. So he wasn’t too worried. Wearing a pair of light-gray, baggy gym shorts, a dark-green T-shirt with no logo, and his gray running shoes, he blended in with the trees, and if he had to he could take off fast. Then later, over near Eastfield High School, he would chase down Harper. He hoped she’d quickly separate herself from the group during track practice. She was fast and competitive, so it was likely. As soon as Harper left the others in her dust, he’d jump out and grab her before she had a chance to react. He didn’t even need a full minute. Today could very well be the day.

  After taking a bite of the avocado and alfalfa sprout roll-up sandwich he’d prepared earlier, he washed it down with a few swigs of 100 percent organic coconut water and felt his senses heighten even further. He could hear the lowest-pitched sounds near and far. His vision sharpened until he could see all the infinitesimal details of his surroundings. The killer felt strong, fast, and prepared. To start trouble. To do damage. And get away with it.

  Gabriel parked behind a CVS pharmacy near the Rocky Hill campus, glanced into the rearview mirror, adjusted his sunglasses, pulled the baseball cap’s visor down, and sprung out of the car. After a quick check behind him to see if anyone was watching, he jogged casually over to the edge of the woods and disappeared down the tree-lined path that led to the college.

  The weather was perfect, not too warm and not too windy. Lots of people were walking and running along the trails that wound through the campus’s forests. Fitting right in, Gabriel kept a steady pace, just like most of the other runners. He was too old to be a student, but teachers and other adults around his age frequented the scenic trails, too. Lots of regular citizens from Eastfield and its surrounding towns liked to walk or run here. As he ran, he began to relax; his breathing evened out, and he became one with his environment. The forest absorbed him and made him its own, invisible to ordinary eyes.

  When he emerged from the woods on the north side of the campus, he looked around for Shane but couldn’t spot him. So he took off on foot across the quad, past the dorms and the library.

  After he’d covered a lot of ground, there was still no sign of the tall redheaded boy. Gabriel was tempted to give up but instead slipped back into the woods and jogged along the winding paths until he came out on the south side of the campus, where he emerged from the forest and headed toward a crowded sidewalk, leaving the dirt trail behind. Minutes later, he almost collided with Shane, who had covered his flaming hair with a backward baseball cap. Quickly, he jogged back into the woods.

  From his position leaning against the trunk of a big maple, Gabriel paused as if he needed to catch his breath, and watched his victim approach. Shane was headed in the direction of the gym, engrossed in conversation with two attractive girls, a blonde and a brunette. The blonde girl laughed, and the brunette shoved Shane’s shoulder, like she thought whatever he’d said was outrageous. But she didn’t seem offended, just pretending to be, in a joking way. Gabriel could tell because Shane was grinning down at her and she was smiling up at him. Soon the three kids parted ways. The girls took off in another direction, and Shane kept walking, straight toward the spot where Gabriel was slouching against the tree.

  The killer narrowed his eyes, took the knife out of his pocket, and palmed it. If he stuck the blade in deep enough, between two ribs and straight into the heart, the boy would be dead within minutes. He risked a glimpse around the tree trunk. Shane was closer now. Gabriel pulled the visor of his hat down lower and jogged toward him, focusing on the spot where the boy’s heart lay, beating steadily. But not for long.

  One, two, three steps. Showtime! He flicked open the blade. Shane jumped back and flung out his left arm. Gabriel’s knife split the pale flesh along the boy’s bicep. Shane’s eyes flew open wide, and he s
lapped his right hand over the wound. Blood flowed out from between his fingers and down his forearm, soaking into his clothes. A man who had been walking behind Shane grabbed him and flung him to the ground, covering him with his body, but it was too late.

  Gabriel didn’t stick around to observe the mayhem his handiwork had caused. He sprinted off into the woods as fast as his feet could fly. The other man who had been walking right behind Shane ran into the woods after him, but by then the killer had already put a lot of distance between them.

  As he raced through the woods, head down, legs pumping, he thought about how even though he’d screwed up, it still might work out okay for him. Everyone involved in the investigation would be focused on poor seriously injured Shane instead of poor dead Shane. Talented basketball player. He might not be able to play for weeks or months, maybe never again. He could easily have been killed. No one would expect the killer to strike again today, so soon after this attack. Logically, he should retreat to his hideout. But lately Gabriel had been working very hard at not being predictable.

  The cops would question the boy intensely. Bloodhounds would be sniffing along the path. They might trace Gabriel to the pharmacy parking lot, but he’d be long gone by the time the dogs arrived. Someone who’d been in the parking lot might remember a dark-green car, maybe even the make, but the license plate had been unreadable.

  When the cops looked at the surveillance films, they’d see a man, about six feet tall, climbing in and out of a small, dark car. They’d describe him as dressed in long baggy gym shorts and a T-shirt, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down low. Gabriel pulled off his cap and changed to a different pair of sunglasses. He laughed as he drove down Route 138, observing the speed limit, of course. Coming to a full stop at every stop sign. Using his turn signals. Slowing down for yellow lights. Stopping for reds. He chuckled as he headed toward the high-school track.

  Chapter 16

  Harper

  Track Practice

  Pressing the smalls of our backs against the ground, we raise our heads and shoulders at one end and legs at the other: stretches and core strength today. Next: ten reps of scissor kicks and then ten leg lifts with no break before we switch to bicycle kicks. No problem. I’m barely breaking a sweat.

  The sweet spring grass tickles the back of my neck, and the late-afternoon sunshine warms my muscles, making them pliable and strong. The two girls stretched out on either side of me pant and groan. But I’m totally relaxed.

  “Harper, how can you smile? These leg lifts are killing me.” Dana’s face is bright red.

  “I’m not smiling. That was a grimace.” I quickly grit my teeth and frown to hide the fact that I was smiling. I was daydreaming about how smooth and warm Shane’s skin felt when I gave him a back rub and how ticklish he is. I try to stifle a grin and fail.

  “I know. You have a crush on a boy. Who is he?” Grace is out of breath but not enough to keep her from teasing me.

  “No way, Gracie. Switch back to scissor kicks. Ugh, I’m feeling the burn now.” I’m really not, but I pretend to so they’ll shut up.

  “Is it Kyle? There’s a rumor that he’s going to ask you to prom.” Grace won’t let up.

  “No. Kyle and I are just friends.”

  “Gracie, on Saturday, Kyle asked me to prom. We sat together on the bus ride home from the track meet. I’m going shopping for a dress after practice today.” Dana has no idea that he asked me first. I’m relieved but not exactly flattered that Kyle moved on so quickly.

  “That’s cool. What color dress are you thinking of getting?” I try to keep the new discussion thread going so I won’t have to field anymore questions about my so-called crush.

  “Maybe lavender or an icy, aqua blue. What do you think?”

  “Either would be perfect with your skin tone. Definitely go with a light color,” Grace weighs in.

  “Yeah,” I grunt in agreement.

  After a few more crunches, we run around the track once and then head down the two-mile circular path that loops through the woods behind the stadium.

  Hordes of tall evergreens flank the trail on both sides, and their shade cools my damp skin. Twenty pairs of sneakers trample the pine needles on the path, filling the air with their sweet, sharp scent. The woods smell like Christmas, except it’s almost summer.

  A bunch of birds perched in a nearby tree trill a rapid melody, and the soles of my feet pick up their rhythm. With every breath, I feel more weightless. Soon the noise of my teammates’ feet hitting the path fades away, and I’m flying.

  Bang. Someone slams into me from behind, and his iron-hard arms crush me against a solid granite wall of chest. I can’t breathe. As I struggle to free myself but fail, he clamps a cloth over my face. Instinct warns me: Don’t inhale.

  He hisses into my ear, “Breathe, Harper.”

  Even though my lungs are screaming for air, I don’t inhale. Instead I kick back and down. Hard.

  He yells, “Ugh!” and loosens his grip just enough so I can shove my elbow into his solar plexus. His arms spring open and I jump back, spin around, and kick high. A roundhouse kick, straight to the face.

  Reeling, he sinks down on one knee. Then stumbles up again and staggers backward. I grope at my face with clumsy hands and feel something sticky on my nose and lips. I’m trying hard not to breathe in any more of the foul stuff. My vision’s blurred, and the forest keeps growing darker. I lift up the front of my T-shirt and wipe my face. Maybe that will help. I squint to bring him into focus, but he’s only a blurry image, a few steps away. Even through the fog I can tell he’s still standing up, so I lurch toward him and make a grab for his arm. Damn. He’s farther away than I thought. I stagger and blink, and my vision clears a little.

  He’s holding his left hand against the side of his face. With his other hand, he reaches for me. I blink again. The trees tilt and blur, my knees wobble, and everything turns black.

  Chapter 17

  Gabriel

  The Object of His Obsession

  From behind a tall, thick-trunked oak in the town forest, the killer peered through his binoculars at Harper Flagg. She was stretched out on her back in the grass. Rosy from exertion, her damp skin shimmered in the sunlight. Even on this beautiful late-spring day, nothing in nature could compare to her. He wanted to photograph her. Paint her on a huge canvas. Mold her into a bronze statue: larger than life. She turned her head, squinted, and glanced in his direction. He held perfectly still until he was sure she hadn’t seen him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, so loud he was afraid she might hear it. He tried some deep yoga breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and his heart quieted. He was safe. He could tell by the calm smile on her face; Harper didn’t suspect anything. Soon she’d be his forever.

  While the girls’ track team finished stretching and stood up, he headed deeper into the forest and chose another big tree to hide behind where he could wait for an opportunity. This was it. He would take her today. Knock her unconscious. Throw her over his shoulder and sprint for the car, parked on the far side of the woods, less than a quarter of a mile away. He’d toss her into the trunk and be halfway to his house before anyone even realized she was missing. He choked back a giggle. Felt it sink down his throat, into his belly. Flexed his biceps, quadriceps. Got ready to spring.

  When he heard a single set of fast footsteps on the path, Gabriel knew it was Harper. That’s my girl. Running way ahead of the pack. If he acted fast, he could do it. He stuck his head out to take a peek just in time to grab her and clamp his arms around her wriggling body. She was stronger than he’d thought, though, and almost broke his hold. Quickly, he smacked the chloroform-soaked cloth over her nose and mouth.

  “Breathe, Harper,” he hissed into her ear. “It will all be over soon,” he whispered, right before she stomped her heel down on his instep. Agony shot through his foot, then up his leg, and he loosened his grip. The excruciating pain pissed him off big time.

  Swinging wildly with on
e fist, Gabriel tried to club her, but a sharp elbow in his gut finished him off and he let go. He was standing there, bent over, with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath when she whirled faster than the blades in a blender and slammed her foot into his jaw.

  She had smashed his instep, cracked his ribs, and kicked him in the face. I think my fucking jaw is broken! Hobbling as fast as he could, he escaped from the violent hellion.

  On the road, as always, Gabriel kept a low profile. Followed the speed limit, used his turn signals, and came to a complete stop at every red light. Even though he was in horrific pain and couldn’t wait to get home, he took his time. He wanted to assess the damage quickly, though. The temptation to speed was tough to quell. He definitely needed pain medication, too. Finally he reached his driveway, sped over the bumpy dirt surface, and drove around to the rear of the house. Limping inside, he headed up to his bedroom so he could examine himself in the full-length mirror.

  Laboriously, he bent, pulled the sneaker and sock off his injured foot, and stared at the livid bruise on his instep. It had already turned deep purple and almost black in places. Although it was extremely painful, he could move his jaw sideways and up and down, so maybe it wasn’t broken, after all. It was beginning to swell, however, and change color. She had probably cracked one of his ribs when she’d elbowed him, but there was nothing you could do for cracked ribs except wait for them to heal and deal with the pain as best as you could. He’d survive. He couldn’t go out in public, though, until the bruising on his face had completely disappeared. There might be alerts on the news to watch out for a man with an injured jaw.