Лори Касс - Tailing A Tabby

“Minnie…”

“Go!” I ordered, using my Librarian Voice. “Go forth and heal!”

He gave me a kiss, and left.

• • •

I took the road that ran along Lake Michigan. Well, along and above Lake Michigan, since the road ran along a steep bluff that dropped precipitously to the water. Hundreds of feet, if what I’d been told was true, and from the distant look of the whitecaps, I believed the stories.

On the horizon I could see the shapes of North and South Manitou Islands. The Native American legend surrounding the creation of the islands was one of the saddest stories I’d ever heard, so when I saw a small county park, of course I wheeled into it.

The park wasn’t exactly abandoned, but it had an air of loneliness that only compounded the effect of the island’s story. A weedy gravel parking lot, a single worn picnic table, no restrooms, and no fence to keep kids from falling into the brink. I propped my bike against a tree and walked to the edge of the bluff, trying to see back in time.

To a great forest fire in Wisconsin. To a mother bear and her two cubs trying to escape the heat and crackle of the fire. To the bear family swimming across the miles and miles of Lake Michigan, trying to reach safety. To the smallest baby bear dropping behind, then the other. To mama bear, making it to land, lying down, and waiting for her cubs to reach the shore. To the sand drifting over the drowned cubs, creating the Manitou Islands. To the sand drifting over mama bear, creating the Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore.

It was a story that always made me a little sniffly, and I felt tears tug at the corners of my eyes.

“Great view, isn’t it?” said a voice at my elbow.

I jumped high, spun in the air, and landed facing the direction of my speaker. A man in his mid-fifties, shorts and a T-shirt, baseball hat, camera around his neck. I panted, my hand to my chest, and realized that he looked familiar. Not only did he look familiar, but I knew him. “Hey, Greg.”

He smiled. “Sorry for scaring you. I thought you must have heard me.” He tipped his head, indicating his black SUV in the parking lot. “I’ve been trying to get some pictures of the islands. And tonight the light’s just right.”

A black SUV. Hadn’t Trock’s bicycle accident been caused by a black SUV?

Possibilities tumbled through my brain at a speed that made me realize my thoughts usually operated at maybe thirty percent capacity. I edged away from Greg, ever so slowly.

What if one of the three men—Greg, Trock, or Hugo—had killed Carissa? What if whoever it was had only faked his accident so he could point suspicion in some other direction? What if the killer was Greg? What if he was coming after me now for poking around where I wasn’t wanted and asking too many questions?

The conclusion was obvious: I’d been colossally stupid.

“You know,” Greg said, moving closer to me, “the spot I’ve picked out is right where you’re standing. I’ll be able to get those trees in the frame. That’ll give some foreground interest.” He had his gaze on the horizon and took another step in my direction.

This, on top of what my brain had just concluded, freaked me out completely. “Gotta go,” I said, stumbling backward. “I’m probably late for… an appointment. Yep, pretty sure I am. See you later.” I turned and fled as fast as my legs could carry me.

“Hey!” Greg called. “Wait, okay? I want to talk to you!”

I sincerely doubted it. What he wanted was to toss me over the edge of the bluff, to send me tumbling head over heels those hundreds of steep feet, my bones breaking on the rock-studded slope, my head cracking open, my breaths ending by the time I rolled into the water like a rag doll.

“Not a chance,” I muttered, and ran on.

Unfortunately there wasn’t anywhere to run. The park was small and tall fences coursed down the length of both sides. And even if I reached my bike, he’d chase me down with that SUV in seconds. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d left his keys in the ignition, so where was there for me to go? Nowhere but down.

His running footsteps were practically on my heels. I might have been twenty years younger, but he’d been a professional athlete for longer than that.

“Just wait, will you?” he called.

He was approaching fast. Maybe I could slide a little way down the edge of the bluff, crab sideways to a friendly neighbor, and call the police from a nice safe cottage with a loud security alarm. I glanced down.

Nothing but air. This part of the bluff was close to vertical.

I spun around in a half crouch. I was small and quick. When he made his move I’d dodge to the side, give him a push, and send him over the brink, just as he intended on doing to me.

“Look,” Greg said. “I don’t know why you’re running, but I want to talk to you, okay? This has been bugging me. I hate lying to anyone, let alone someone like you.”

Which meant what? That he hated lying to the people he was about to kill? How commendable. I stayed in my crouch, tense and ready.

“It’s about that Carissa.” He adjusted his hat. “I kind of lied about knowing her,” he said, taking hold of his camera and fiddling with one of its many buttons. “But that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with her death.”

Not necessarily, but the evidence wasn’t looking so good, buddy boy.

“And I didn’t kill her,” he was saying. “Why would I? So, I mean, yeah, I knew her, kind of, but lots of people did. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” He wasn’t moving, but the emotion in his voice was sharp and deep. “All I want is to be left alone,” he said. “Is that so much to ask?”

Not in my book, because what I wanted most at that very moment was for him to leave me alone.

“Say something, will you?” He held his hand out.

I jerked back, afraid of his touch, afraid to die, afraid that what had happened to Carissa was going to happen to me.

“Minnie, will you just—”

I was still moving back when I heard a noisy trickle of sand. I looked down. In my retreat, I’d reached the edge of the bluff. The crumbling edge. The ground beneath my feet was vanishing fast, dropping down, down, down, tumbling at a speed that made me dizzy.

The only thing I felt was fear. I was caught between a killer and a crumbling cliff. Not good odds, either way, but maybe I could…

Suddenly there was no time for decision-making. Square yards of ground were heaving and sliding and falling. I had to move, had to do something, couldn’t just stand there and die.

Faster than I’d ever done anything, I summoned all my strength and all my power and all my will to jump to solidity and safety.

But even as my feet left the ground, I knew there was no way I’d make it.

Chapter 15

All of my senses were on full alert. I heard the sound of sand cascading out from underneath my feet. Felt the sickening emptiness where ground should be. Smelled my own terrified sweat. Tasted the tartness of adrenaline. And I saw the wonderful sight of a hand reaching out to me.

“Grab my hand, Minnie!” Greg shouted. “Now!”

I reached, flailed, felt the whispering brush of his fingertips rushing past mine. Felt myself falling falling, falling. Saw my future end in a very short time. And then I saw him lunge forward and his strong pitcher’s grip was circling my wrist.

“Hang on,” he said from above me. “I’ve got you.”

I looked up. Greg was laid flat out on the bluff’s edge, hanging on to me with one arm. Under my feet was… nothing. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I felt nothing. I heard nothing except the sound of my heartbeats. And there was nothing I could do to save myself.

“Just stay still,” Greg ordered. “I’m going to pull us back. Stay still.”