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“Do you feel … darkness?” she asked, swallowing against the fear creeping up her throat.
Paul didn’t answer at first. Finally, he said, “Is that what it is?”
“Should we turn around?”
“I think this is our best bet for winning.”
They walked in silence for a couple more minutes, then Belinda asked quietly, “Did they ever find the escaped convict?”
Paul shook his head.
“Isn’t this trail basically the other side of the Na Pali coast?” Her voice pitched up. She was being crazy. No way the convict had been out wandering for two days. Yet he could be. With this paradise island, he’d have fresh water and fresh fruit. She’d seen people survive on much less than what the convict could easily find here.
“It’s probably the closest, but still a lot of miles, and the terrain …” Paul whistled. “I’ve taken helicopter flights over the area. It would be near impossible for a human to navigate it. He’d have to be a mountain goat.”
Bleating from their right made them both jump. Two mountain goats were on the nearly vertical mountain to their left.
Belinda laughed nervously, hoping that wasn’t some omen. They kept walking, but everything inside her screamed that they should turn around. Was something wrong at home? Maybe Mercedes Belle had died. Wouldn’t they call? Paul had promised after the Na Pali debacle to answer the phone no matter what.
She glanced at her watch. Nine more minutes. They could head back now and still win. Unless Jagger or Hays were on this exact trail.
“I think we should turn around,” she said.
Paul pivoted to her. “We might lose the million dollars if we do.”
“Better that than our lives.”
His eyes widened. “Belinda. Even if the convict somehow made it to this trail…” He gestured to the gun strapped on his hip. “I’m not putting this in a backpack this time, and it’s only the one guy.”
“But he’d be desperate and crazy,” she said quietly, half afraid he could hear her. Her heart raced, and she put a hand to it.
She and Paul studied each other. He wanted her to win the money. He liked Jagger and Hays, she knew that, but he also wanted to best them and prove he could.
Then they both heard it.
Footsteps. Pounding footsteps coming from behind Belinda. Somebody was pursuing them from the trailhead.
Paul ushered her in front of him. “Run,” he urged.
It was instinct to run, but Belinda felt like she was running in the wrong direction. She felt it deeply.
Being chased was unnerving, but there was something worse in front of them.
The footsteps behind them grew closer and closer, and then she heard it.
“Bee!”
Her heart lurched, and all the fear disappeared. Jagger. He had come for her. She stopped on the trail and whirled around.
“Belinda,” Paul groaned, picking her off her feet and carrying her away from Jagger. “We’ve only got four minutes. Keep running. Please.”
“No, Paul. No. It’s not Jagger we need to run from. Please listen to me!”
He stared at her, and something in her gaze must’ve convinced him. He stopped moving, set her on her feet, and spun to face Jagger. He must’ve decided to change tactics, because he ran at Jagger as if to tackle him so he couldn’t shoot Belinda’s shirt.
She knew she should probably hide so he couldn’t tag her shirt. Only minutes left and she’d win a million dollars, but all she wanted was to see Jagger and feel the safety only he could give her.
He rounded a corner in the thick growth and cried out, “Bee!”
