looked out across the parking lot. "It's where your car blew up—with Iola." Her voice was very quiet. "I hope Joe's all right."
Frank sat quietly for a moment, his face set. I can't stand by and do nothing, he decided.
Callie was studying him. "Frank? Are you okay?" she asked quietly. But lost in his troubled thoughts, Frank didn't answer.
***
It was like a nightmare playing over and over in his mind. Joe saw himself trapped in the car trunk, tumbling down the canyon wall again and again. He tried to open his eyes to stop the dreaming, but he couldn't. No,' he could do nothing but live through the confusion and fear again and again.
How long ago had it actually happened? It could have been hours, days, or weeks. Joe had lost all notion of time. All he remembered was trying frantically to get out of the open trunk as the car tumbled toward the river. He was right above the gas tank. If it hit a boulder and exploded, he'd be splattered all over the landscape.
He'd made one desperate jump, hitting his shoulder as the lid swung closed. But he'd gotten free of the car, even if he plummeted down the slope helplessly. The last thing he saw was the blunt edge of a boulder, flying up to meet him.
He twisted desperately in midair, but all that followed was this dark trance.
He had clawed his way back to consciousness. Sharp, piercing pain held him paralyzed. His body and limbs were bruised and bloody. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Instinct alone got him to his feet and forced him to hobble away. Whoever had pushed him down would come to check the accident site—and maybe finish the job.
Staggering drunkenly, Joe forced his battered « body along the riverbank. Stopping by a still pool of water, he looked at his reflection. It looked like something out of a splatter movie. A deep cut in his scalp had left a mask of blood over half his face, making it completely unrecognizable.
He stared at the frightening stranger in the water, then stumbled on. The river flattened and slowed. Joe stopped. Maybe he could enter the water. Perhaps its coolness would soothe his aching hurts. Moving like an old man, he gingerly climbed over some boulders lining the shore. Then he heard something duck underwater.
Leaning against a boulder, Joe blinked, trying to focus his eyes. Concentric ripples in the water marked the spot where whatever it was had disappeared. Would it surface again?
It did—and Joe gasped in amazement as a human head broke through the water, tossing long, water-soaked hair over tanned shoulders. A girl, and a pretty one! Then she saw him and crouched in the water up to her chin!'
Reeling forward, he stretched his hands toward the girl.
She reacted as if he were the star of a horror movie, moving quickly to grab for a towel lying on a boulder. Covering herself with the cloth, she climbed out of the water.
"Please," Joe tried to say, but it just came out as a moan. Then a golden retriever, teeth bared, came splashing through the water, snarling at him.
Joe tried to pull himself together, to defend himself, but everything was swirling around him. He looked at the girl and heard a voice—his own? hers? — whispering, "Help me!"
Then he collapsed, helplessly crumpling into darkness.
Chapter 4
"Can you tell me anything more? Please try to remember," Frank Hardy said. "It's really important." He leaned across the rental car counter at Stapleton Airport. In his hand was his one slim lead to Joe, the jackalope postcard which Joe had sent him.
The clerk, a young woman with a stiff blond hairdo, thought for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry. There's a few conventions in town, plus the usual tourists. I showed you our records, so you know what kind of car he rented. But I just don't remember anything else about him."
"He may have asked directions to the mountains. Does that help?" Frank asked.
"I just can't remember your brother," the clerk said. "I mean, I remember helping someone who looks like that
Frank sat quietly for a moment, his face set. I can't stand by and do nothing, he decided.
Callie was studying him. "Frank? Are you okay?" she asked quietly. But lost in his troubled thoughts, Frank didn't answer.
***
It was like a nightmare playing over and over in his mind. Joe saw himself trapped in the car trunk, tumbling down the canyon wall again and again. He tried to open his eyes to stop the dreaming, but he couldn't. No,' he could do nothing but live through the confusion and fear again and again.
How long ago had it actually happened? It could have been hours, days, or weeks. Joe had lost all notion of time. All he remembered was trying frantically to get out of the open trunk as the car tumbled toward the river. He was right above the gas tank. If it hit a boulder and exploded, he'd be splattered all over the landscape.
He'd made one desperate jump, hitting his shoulder as the lid swung closed. But he'd gotten free of the car, even if he plummeted down the slope helplessly. The last thing he saw was the blunt edge of a boulder, flying up to meet him.
He twisted desperately in midair, but all that followed was this dark trance.
He had clawed his way back to consciousness. Sharp, piercing pain held him paralyzed. His body and limbs were bruised and bloody. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Instinct alone got him to his feet and forced him to hobble away. Whoever had pushed him down would come to check the accident site—and maybe finish the job.
Staggering drunkenly, Joe forced his battered « body along the riverbank. Stopping by a still pool of water, he looked at his reflection. It looked like something out of a splatter movie. A deep cut in his scalp had left a mask of blood over half his face, making it completely unrecognizable.
He stared at the frightening stranger in the water, then stumbled on. The river flattened and slowed. Joe stopped. Maybe he could enter the water. Perhaps its coolness would soothe his aching hurts. Moving like an old man, he gingerly climbed over some boulders lining the shore. Then he heard something duck underwater.
Leaning against a boulder, Joe blinked, trying to focus his eyes. Concentric ripples in the water marked the spot where whatever it was had disappeared. Would it surface again?
It did—and Joe gasped in amazement as a human head broke through the water, tossing long, water-soaked hair over tanned shoulders. A girl, and a pretty one! Then she saw him and crouched in the water up to her chin!'
Reeling forward, he stretched his hands toward the girl.
She reacted as if he were the star of a horror movie, moving quickly to grab for a towel lying on a boulder. Covering herself with the cloth, she climbed out of the water.
"Please," Joe tried to say, but it just came out as a moan. Then a golden retriever, teeth bared, came splashing through the water, snarling at him.
Joe tried to pull himself together, to defend himself, but everything was swirling around him. He looked at the girl and heard a voice—his own? hers? — whispering, "Help me!"
Then he collapsed, helplessly crumpling into darkness.
Chapter 4
"Can you tell me anything more? Please try to remember," Frank Hardy said. "It's really important." He leaned across the rental car counter at Stapleton Airport. In his hand was his one slim lead to Joe, the jackalope postcard which Joe had sent him.
The clerk, a young woman with a stiff blond hairdo, thought for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry. There's a few conventions in town, plus the usual tourists. I showed you our records, so you know what kind of car he rented. But I just don't remember anything else about him."
"He may have asked directions to the mountains. Does that help?" Frank asked.
"I just can't remember your brother," the clerk said. "I mean, I remember helping someone who looks like that
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