Chapter 74 - The Scent of Pine and River
The cold air tore into my lungs as I kicked open the low vestry door and burst into the overgrown briars behind St. Jude’s. The smell of wet earth and rotted autumn foliage hit me in a wave, mingled with the unmistakable metallic tang of river water.
Behind me, shouting echoed from the stone church, followed by the metallic click of a chamber reloading, but the mist lay so thick over the ridge that within three strides, the weathered granite walls had vanished into white fog.
I clutched the damp backpack against my ribs. It was soaked through, but as my fingers dug into the side mesh pocket, my thumb brushed against something small, round, and familiar: a plastic hair clip shaped like a yellow daisy. It was the clip Lily had worn in her hair this morning before the school bus arrived. She had dropped it intentionally into the side pouch.
I dropped to my knees in the ferns, scanning the mud near the stone wall bordering the churchyard. In the pale moonlight filtering through the fog, two sets of fresh tracks were deeply gouged into the damp loam. One set belonged to heavy work boots; the other was small, dragging slightly, leading down the steep wooded incline toward the rushing roar of Blackwood Creek.
"Lily," I whispered, the word catching in my throat like dust.
The trail wound sharply through hemlock and birch trees, skirting the jagged limestone outcroppings that defined the ridge. Whoever had dragged her this way had been moving fast, slipping twice in the moss. Broken twigs glistened with fresh sap.
May you like
They weren't taking her to the highway; they were heading toward the abandoned mill keeper's cabin perched over the weir, where the Van Der Bilt logging company had operated half a century ago. It was a blind spot, hidden from the county roads, invisible to the patrol cars searching the main access valley.
I picked up a heavy river stone from the path, tightening my grip until the rough mineral edges bit into my skin, and broke into a silent, relentless run through the dark.
