Page 65 of The Hang Up
God, it felt like a fucking Disney movie.
The hair prickled on the back of his neck. For a second he thought it was the novelty of finding himself in a happy, committed relationship when just a few weeks ago, he’d sworn it was the last thing on earth he was looking for.
Then he thought they were being watched, maybe by an owl or a raccoon or a bobcat.
But the instant he realized what it was, he froze in his tracks.
He dropped Miriam’s hand, his ears straining for the sounds of small footsteps or a warbled Lady Gaga melody. For any sign of his nephew.
Nothing.
He took off running, heart slamming hard into his throat. “Henry!” he shouted as he tore down the trail. “Henry!”
CHAPTER13
Miriam could hear Jason’s voice echoing through the trees, a haunting, hollow sound that made goose bumps prickle on her arms.
“Henry!” he shouted, and Miriam shivered.
Jason was out of sight already, his boots pounding a dull thud on the trail up ahead. His voice was thick with terror as he called his nephew’s name again.
“Henry!”
She felt her heart thudding thick in her chest, but ordered herself to stay calm. To use her brain, since clearly her wilderness skills and physical prowess weren’t her best assets out here.
She kept moving, albeit more slowly. He couldn’t have gone too far, could he?
“Henry,” she called, softly at first. She swallowed hard and tried again, fighting to keep her voice cheerful and upbeat. “Henry!”
Nothing. Just the echo of Jason’s voice in the distance, sounding increasingly frantic. Her footsteps squished on the damp trail, and she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Her gaze swept the edges of the path, surveying the scenery. The brush grew thick here, with dense clusters of pine boughs and large boulders that looked like prehistoric shapes. The smell of damp earth had seemed exotic a few moments ago, but now it just seemed menacing.
“Henry!” she called again, still struggling to keep her voice gentle. “Where are you, buddy?”
Jason’s voice rang out through the trees, sounding distant and desperate. Miriam kept walking, commanding herself to stay calm. Jason had said there were no drop-offs or confusing spots in the trail. Could Henry have backtracked somehow? No, they would have seen him.
She swallowed again, fighting back bitter panic that threatened to bubble up her throat. Taking a shaky breath, she hummed a few bars of the Lady Gaga song Henry had been singing when she’d seen him last. Putting one boot in front of the other, she continued along the trail, ordering herself not to dwell on the fact that she was completely alone in the wilderness.
That was the least of her concerns right now.
Her gaze swept the trail, studying the shapes of the boulders along the fringes. There was one that looked like an overturned Volkswagen and another that looked like a giant beach ball and one off in the distance that looked like a brontosaurus.
Brontosaurus…
Miriam froze. She stopped humming and stared at it a moment. Then she stepped off the trail, watching the rock like she expected a little boy to materialize beside it at any moment.
“Henry,” she called, still as upbeat as she could muster. Jason’s voice grew fainter in the distance, but she could still hear the frantic echoes as he called his nephew’s name again and again.
Something pulled Miriam toward that boulder. She took another step toward it, then another and another, heading deeper into the woods.
“Henry,” she tried again, arms prickling with a sensation she couldn’t identify.
The trees were thick here, and she wove through them, skirting a tall shaggy one, then turning sideways to maneuver around a tree trunk as wide as a wine barrel. She kept walking, not taking her eyes off the boulder.
“Henry,” she called.
A branch cracked, though it might have been under her own foot. She kept going, pulse thudding in her ears, Jason’s voice growing more distant.
She was almost to the boulder now, and the prickling sensation on her arms felt more intense. She’d heard girlfriends mention “a mother’s instinct,” and not having kids of her own, she’d always laughed it off as woo-woo mumbo-jumbo.
