Free Stutter Creek by Ann Swann Page B

it was just an animal and not a malevolent dream-spirit or something equally bizarre. She wondered briefly about a human causing the noise; a peeping tom or such—but that was such an unlikely possibility that she shoved the thought away almost as quickly as it had occurred.
    She checked the locks on all the doors and windows, as if that would keep out a malevolent shadow-spirit, and then she made the conscious choice to leave all the lights blazing thinking, hoping , that the light would deter anything from returning. Then she tried to go back to sleep.
    This time, however, she took her pillow and blanket and curled up in the big recliner again. She got up one last time, dug her cell phone out of her purse, and plugged it into the charger she’d unpacked earlier. Just in case I get a signal, she thought.
    Anything’s possible.
     
    ***
     
    Kurt stood close by the cabin, his filthy clothes helping him to blend in with the scenery even better than he could have planned. He couldn’t believe his luck. It had to be the woman from the highway. Luck? No, Fate. They’d both been headed to the same place. On the other hand, the road they’d both been travelling led to the National Forest and not much else. He liked the idea of Fate better than luck. It meant he was supposed to take her.
    As he checked his pockets to make sure he had his duct tape, he came across Amanda Myers’ driver’s license. A small chuckle escaped him and he pressed it to his lips before tucking it into a different pocket of his thrift-store jacket.
    Sherylyn’s Wal-Mart nametag inhabited the same pocket. His intention was to fill that zippered pocket with something from every girl on his list. Now, he would get to add something from one fate-kissed middle-aged woman who just happened to drive a very recognizable blue Camaro. Kurt chuckled again. This was turning out to be even better than he’d expected.
    He leaned against a tree and pulled strips of beef jerky out of their plastic packet. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of the old broad roaming around inside the cabin. She was definitely still alone.
    This was going to be fun.
    Silently, he traipsed back up the mountain toward the tent where Danny lay, nearly comatose; his unopened packet of jerky still clutched in his filthy little hand.
    Once again, Kurt wished he’d kept the cell phone he’d taken from Amanda Myers. He had thought about keeping it for a souvenir, but it had taken up too much room in his pocket. Besides, he was afraid it was traceable, even without the battery. He’d taken that out and tossed it beside the highway somewhere outside Pine River.
    He still thought about the phone, though. That little green shell had appealed to him. It was so sparkly, a sweet reminder of the lovely girl herself. But at last, he’d decided to get rid of the shell, too. Just yesterday, he had buried it at the base of a tree like a tiny treasure. If he hadn’t buried it, the green rhinestone cover would have been very vibrant against the thin layer of snow still on the ground.
     
    ***
     
    Sunlight warming her face woke her. It was full daylight and she had actually slept undisturbed. Beth stretched and tried to stand. Her back was in kinks and her neck was so stiff it popped when she straightened it. I’ll pay for sleeping in that chair, she thought, heading toward the shower.
    The light on her phone had changed from red to green so she plucked it from the charger as she walked by. No calls, the screen said, but she flipped to the address book and started to scroll down the list. She thought she should at least try to call Cindy and let her know she had made it to the cabin. With her thumb, she sent the cursor flying down the list. It scrolled past Cindy and stopped on Dad.
    She started over. The same thing happened. She couldn’t get it to stop on Cindy. It would just go straight to Dad. She tried to land the cursor on Abby’s phone number. Same thing happened. It went straight to