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But he isn’t lumbering now. He’s sprinting toward me so fast that by the time I turn to run, I barely make it five steps before his big arm locks around my shoulders, dragging me back against his chest.
“No! Let me go! Help!” I scream before his wide hand closes over my lips. His palm is warm and dry and smells pleasantly of evergreen needles, but that does nothing to ease my terror as he rumbles softly in my ear, “Quiet.”
I scream into his palm, sucking in air through my nose and crying out until my eyes start to ache and water. I kick and thrash, but Carl doesn’t seem to feel the heels of my hiking boots slamming into his shins.
He doesn’t seem bothered by my screaming, either.
He doesn’t tell me to be quiet again. He simply shuffles slowly backward on the trail, bound for…I have no idea what.
I only know it’s nowhere I want to be.
I scream and whimper and thrash even harder, clawing at his arm with my nails, but his denim jacket is thick and my nails are barely a centimeter long. I work with my hands, preparing food all day. I can’t afford to have long nails in the way when I pull on my latex gloves or need to chop vegetables at the speed of light.
My thoughts race, trying to remember if I have anything I can use as a weapon in my daypack. I brought a flashlight, but it’s a tiny thing, tossed in on the off chance I got turned around on a trail and needed help staying on course after dark.
Otherwise, all I brought is lunch, snacks, gum, water, and—
Water! Since we were aiming for close to fifteen miles round trip, I brought my extra-large Hydro Flask. It’s as long as my forearm and heavy enough to do damage if I aim it at a vulnerable area.
If I can just get away from Carl, I can grab it and swing it at his head like a baseball bat.
I stomp down hard on his instep, but his hiking boots are as sturdy as mine, and again, he doesn’t even seem to notice my attempts at self-defense. Gritting my teeth and calling on all my strength, I ball my hand into a fist and slam it back behind me, aiming for Carl’s balls.
This time, I get the reaction I’ve been hoping for.
He groans and doubles over, his arm loosening around my shoulders just enough for me to wiggle free and start running again.
I hurl my body down the trail, screaming as I run faster than I’ve run in years, “Help me, I’m being attacked! Help me, someone, please! He—”
My words end in a choking sound as Carl’s arm goes around my throat this time, gagging me as he drags me back against him. His hand returns to my mouth as he says in that same, chillingly calm voice, “Be quiet or I’ll gag you. Just be good and play nice, and I won’t hurt you.”
My scream turns to a sob, tears slipping down my face as he begins pulling me backward again.
Because I know this story.
I’ve listened to a hundred variations of this tale on a dozen different true crime podcasts. When the bad guy says he “isn’t going to hurt you,” he almost always hurts you.
And most of the time?
Most of the time, he does a lot worse than hurt…
Chapter 2
TESSA
I howl and screech and kick, but his hand is too big.
I’m barely making any noise at all, and my hope is swiftly slipping away. There’s no one around to hear me anyway. We haven’t seen another soul on the trail in close to an hour.
Please, I sob, begging the universe for mercy with everything in me. Please let someone have heard me scream. Please, please, please. Please, don’t let it end like this. I have so many things I still want to do. So many dreams I want to make come true. So many adventures I haven’t had the chance to take. Please. Please!
At that exact moment, just as a sunbeam cuts through the leaves, blinding me for a second, I hear a deep voice ask, “Hello? Is someone back here?”
Nerves electrified with sudden hope, I scream louder, but Carl’s hand tightens at the same time, muffling the sound.
“Shut up,” he hisses into my ear. “Be quiet or I’ll break your arm.”
Trembling, I sob and wail even harder, snot spilling from my nose onto Carl’s hand as I frantically shuffle my feet in the leaves beneath us, making as much noise as possible.
