"He's good with disguises," he said. "Noah's description is what the FBI is using, but he didn't get a clear look at him either.
From what I've heard about Monk, he could be in the same room with Noah today, and I doubt he would be recognized."
"I don't know if he was alone or not. He was driving a Land Rover, but when he opened the door and got out, the light didn't go
on, and he parked it a good distance away. I couldn't see inside. Do you think the woman was with him?"
"I don't know."
"He's very good at what he does, isn't he?" She sounded disheartened.
"Yes, he is," he said.
"He stood there a long time, maybe five minutes," she said. "He didn't move a muscle. It was creepy."
"He was probably listening to the sound of the forest, hoping to hear something."
"Like me."
"Yes." He put his arm around her and pulled her close. "Thank God you didn't try to run."
"I thought about trying to get my gun out of my pocket, but I was so close to him I worried he'd hear the sound of the zipper."
"If you had been asleep, Monk…"
Before he could finish his bleak thought, she interrupted. "He'd shoot me? I'll tell you what, John Paul. If you ever leave me
behind again, that's exactly what I'm going to do to you."
Since she was all but clinging to him so that she could borrow some of his warmth, the threat didn't carry much weight.
"I won't leave you again," he promised in a gruff whisper. "I never should have left you. Hell, I guess I've been away from it too long. My instincts are all screwed up."
She homed in on what he'd just said. "You've been away from it too long? What exactly is it, John Paul?"
"Come on, sugar. We should get moving. Time's awasting."
In other words, leave it alone. She decided to accommodate him now and try again later. She was stiff and sore when she stood. Groaning, she rubbed her backside, not caring that she appeared less than ladylike.
"You know what I need?"
"Food, dry clothes…"
"Yes, that too," she said. "But what I also need is to get into my yoga position, relax, and do my free-association exercises."
"Your what?" He was sure he hadn't heard correctly.
She repeated. "You let the fragments drift in your mind; then when you're completely relaxed, you take hold of one at a time and you analyze it. You can't do it, though, until you reach total relaxation."
John Paul watched her stretch her long legs. "So how do you reach total relaxation?" he asked.
"Visualization," she said. "I go to a place where I feel completely safe and free, like a real home. You know, I go to my… happy place."
"You're kidding."
"No."
He laughed. "You do know you sound insane, don't you?"
She wasn't joking when she answered. "It runs in the family."
She clasped her hands behind her back and twisted her torso, then shook her arms and legs to loosen them and started running again, her pace slower this time, but just as determined. Once again, he fell in right behind her and stayed there until she was panting for breath. They'd been climbing steadily since they'd left the river, and so far they hadn't seen a single sign of civilization. Where in thunder were they? Were they even still in Colorado?
She suddenly stopped, doubled over, and took a couple of deep, gulping breaths. Then she put her hands on her hips and slowly straightened.
"You okay?" he asked.
Why wasn't he winded? He was human, wasn't he? She made up her mind that, no matter what, she wouldn't utter one word of complaint. Not one frickin' word.
"Can't see the forest for the trees." She tried to sound flip. Cheerful was simply too much to ask for.
John Paul was sympathetic. "Do you want to rest?"
Is the Pope Catholic? Does it always rain on picnics? Hell, yes, she wanted to rest.
"No," she said weakly. Then, more forcefully, "I'm good to go… unless you want to…"
"No," he said. "Let's keep moving."
"Are we still heading north?" she asked, stalling for another minute to catch her breath. The air was so thin, she felt light-headed. "I can't seem to get my bearings. If the sun were out…"
"We're going northeast."
One foot in front of the other, she told herself. Steady as you go. Come on, Delaney, pick up the pace. Time's a-wasting. Suck it up.
She kept up the steady barrage of psychological nagging as she ran through the forest. She tried not to think about her soggy underwear sticking to her skin or the fact that she was lugging around at least a pound of mud on each of her hiking boots.
She didn't quite clear the dead branch she tried to jump over, tripped, and would have gone headfirst into a tree trunk if John Paul hadn't grabbed her. The terrain was getting steeper, more treacherous. As she raced along, the muscles of her calves began to burn, and she was finally forced to slow down when they broke through the trees.
She suddenly stopped. They had reached a shelf of rock that hung out over the side of the mountain. Spread out before them
was a panoramic view of the lower hills. Lush green meadows were tucked in between towering peaks with hundreds and hundreds of trees, their branches stretching toward heaven. Everything was so green, so alive. And not a soul was around.
People surely flocked to this paradise, didn't they? So where were they all hiding?
"Isn't it picturesque?"
"Yeah, yeah, it's picturesque," he mumbled.
Desperately trying to stay positive, she said, "Is your cup always half empty? Can't you appreciate-"
He cut her off. "Have you noticed where we are? It's going to take us a couple of days to get back to civilization." He studied
the lay of the land below looking for roads, but he wasn't having any luck. He had, at least, gotten his bearings back.
"We don't have that much time," she said. Her shoulders slumped, and as she looked around her, the beauty suddenly turned menacing, and the realization of their predicament sank in. Could it get any more bleak? She wanted to cry, but she didn't give
in to the urge. Suck it up, she told herself. "It'll be okay," she asserted.
"Yeah? What makes you think so?"
She had to think about it for a minute before she could come up with anything. "Because we're due for a break."
And that was when it started raining again.
Chapter 21
Anne was one of the most uptight, rigid women Carrie had ever met. She was certain the woman wouldn't be at all helpful, but she was proven wrong. Anne more than held her own. After she finished tying together the sheets, she helped them with the wall. She was a hard worker, with surprising stamina. She didn't have any sense of humor, but then, there really wasn't anything
to laugh about, was there? As long as Anne's sacred marriage wasn't discussed, she was almost pleasant to be around.
She was also the woman in charge, giving them orders as they worked side by side. Punching a large hole through the
Sheetrock with a fireplace poker didn't take any time at all. The insulation was messy but not difficult to remove. They filled a
leaf bag with the stuffing. Luckily, there weren't any wires or pipes in the area they uncovered. Next, they sliced through the sheathing with kitchen knives.
Then they got to work on the boards. That was a bitch. Carrie had to take a break when her thumb started bleeding. While
Anne removed the splinter with her tweezers and bandaged the cut, Sara took over.
By three o'clock in the morning, they were all worn-out.