Free Double Blind by D. P. Lyle Page A

hair before you catch a cold or something.”
    “I will, mother,” Shelby said and charged through the door into the house.
    A car came up the winding gravel drive and stopped. A young couple stepped out. Alyss’ first guests had arrived.

 
Chapter 11
    Sam found Kurt and Debbie Kendall to be a cute couple. Both had short, trimmed blonde hair, pert little yuppie noses, blue eyes, and flawless smiles. They looked like a People Magazine cover photo of the latest Hollywood power couple, but with a more innocent glint in their eyes.
    As she and Alyss helped with their bags, they learned the couple had spoken their vows the previous afternoon before Debbie’s minister in the Denver suburb of Littleton, then presided over a reception for 400 people that continued until well past midnight. After sleeping late this morning, they drove the 300 plus miles to Gold Creek. Giddy from excitement and fatigue, they giggled and ohhed and ahhed over the Honeymoon Suite.
    While the Kendalls settled in, Alyss retreated to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Sam offered to help, but Alyss said there was little left to do, so Sam decided to go for a run.
    “Maybe I can shake out some of the kinks,” she said, massaging her neck.
    She slipped on a pair of black Spandex knee length shorts, a sports bra, a tee shirt, and laced up her tattered New Balance running shoes. Time to buy a new pair, but running shoes, like old jeans, are difficult to part with.
    She pulled her back-up piece, a small .25 caliber Berretta, from her suitcase, ejected the clip, inspected it, and snapped it back into position. She debated whether to take it with her or not. Taking it seemed foolish, even wimpy. Yet, there was a killer loose. Deciding to play it safe, she slipped the weapon into her fanny pack, which she fastened around her waist.
    Flashing a wave at Alyss, she headed out the door, down the winding gravel drive, and then veered eastward onto a trail that cut diagonally across the meadow and deeper into the valley. Soon the knots in her back and shoulders released their grip, her legs relaxed, and she settled into a comfortable pace.
    She ran easily, each foot accepting the ground, not challenging it, gliding along as if she knew the trail. As she ascended a gentle rise in the meadow, two ribbon-like waterfalls, which cascaded down the gray peaks, came into view. The one nearest her made its dramatic final plunge into a pool and lifted a misty cloud into the surrounding trees. Two crows soared overhead, loudly arguing with one another.
    She mentally compared the dry, monotonous bleakness of the desert trails she ran near Mercer’s Corner with the majestic beauty around her. The peaceful meadow, the snow-capped peaks, the shimmering Aspen leaves, the graceful blue green spruces, and the crystalline waterfalls seemed almost unreal, as if this much beauty could not collect in one place.
    She inhaled deeply. The air was crisp and clean and laced with a faint hint of pine. Not like home. There, on hot, windy days, she would tie a bandana over her nose and mouth to protect her lungs from the swirling dust. Her boss, Sheriff Charlie Walker, often teased her about looking like a bank robber.
    Maybe Gold Creek wouldn’t be a bad place to live. Of course, the air was a little thinner up here. She slowed her pace and wiped sweat from her face with the hem of her tee shirt.
    She continued to follow the trail, which cut through knee-deep grasses dotted with blue lupine, raspberry and lemon colored Indian paintbrush, and purple polemonium, before meandering upward toward a grove of aspens, which hugged the base of the mountains. She settled into a comfortable stride, losing herself in thought. The rhythm of her breathing melded with the soft pat-pat-pat of her footfalls.
    *
    He followed her progress from deep in the trees, her form visible in flashes through rifts in the thick foliage. He moved higher, mounting a rock outcropping, and pushed a sagging spruce branch aside.