Chapter 10: Elodie

It was a supremely lousy morning. My body was swamped with the kind of edgy, dragging exhaustion that made me wish I actually liked coffee. The problem of Sawyer had kept me awake into the deep hours of the night when even the crickets and cicadas had gone to sleep.

He'd followed me home from the clearing that day. It was the only explanation for how he'd known where I lived. Combined with his mysterious disappearing act after our confrontation, it added up to one thing: creepy. I wasn't sure which part disturbed me more - that he had followed me or that I hadn't sensed it. I should've been able to smell him at least. Of course I'd been so rattled, it's not like I was paying all that much attention.

He knew where I lived.

Well, duh, he'd have known from dropping me off anyway, but that wasn't the same. He wasn't just my boss's son, a cute guy giving me a ride. He could be a stalker. And contrary to the heroines of some popular teen fiction, I wasn't into that.

I called myself an idiot for my paranoia.

Sure, I felt nervous as hell around Sawyer, but it had nothing to do with fear for my personal safety. I felt jazzed around him, electrified and attracted in a way I'd never felt before. But what if my attraction to him was making me blind to something more dangerous? I couldn't help but think about all the anger I sensed simmering just below the surface. Sawyer was not someone I wanted to piss off. I tried to imagine that rage directed at me, but I wound up less afraid of him and more afraid of what I might to do to defend myself.

I admit that I'm more paranoid than the average teenager. It's kind of a natural byproduct when you're forced to pick up and move across several states, change your last name through less than legal channels, and start a whole new life because your dad believes just enough of your mother's crazy for "just in case". But the idea of somebody I didn't know just standing out there watching me, following me, freaked me the hell out.

I was glad we were meeting at Hansen's where there'd be people and video footage.

Sawyer was leaning against the back bumper of an ancient brown Jeep when I walked up, his face set in a scowl. His was a real CJ-7, not one of those toy Barbie Jeeps like Amber drove. He was upwind, and I could smell him - that curious mix of evergreen and sweat and wild. And something else that I thought was maybe irritation. The scent made my pulse speed up a notch. I took a firmer grip on my pack strap, as if the gesture was somehow going to steady me.

His gaze swung my way, and I felt the punch of it in my gut, my heart thumping like a tympani in my chest. His mouth curved in a smile that had me thinking all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about what I wanted to do with it.

No. No. You do not want to make out with the hot stalker guy. The creepy stalker guy, I amended.

"Hey," he said.

I tried to relax the white-knuckled grip on my pack, while attraction and paranoia warred inside me. "Hey."

Sawyer tipped his head toward the store. "You need anything?"

A new brain? A boost to my will power? For you to do something unutterably disgusting or hateful so that I don't find you so damned attractive despite the fact that you may have been hanging around outside my house watching me? I shook my head, more in an effort to shake the absurdity out of my brain than an answer.

"Let's go then."

As I climbed into the passenger seat, I glanced around, on edge for a whole other reason as I looked for evidence of the Barbie Squad. The last thing I needed was another run-in with any of them. On that front, at least, it appeared I was safe. Once Sawyer pulled out onto the road, I kept my eyes on the tree line. Maybe if I didn't look at him, it wouldn't be so bad.

The wind whipped my hair, bringing with it a plethora of scents that my brain automatically tried to categorize. My own nerves. Trees. Freshly turned earth. Exhaust from other cars. Some kind of animal. It seemed my nose was getting more sensitive. Or maybe I was getting better at separating things out. I tipped my face up to get a better whiff.

"Morning person," said Sawyer.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"I was trying to figure out if you're a morning person or a night owl. If you weren't a morning person, you'd be hiding behind sunglasses and a thermos of coffee," he said.

I glanced at him, taking in the dark wrap-around shades he'd slipped on and the to-go cup of java from Hansen's in the cup-holder. Covering bloodshot eyes because he'd been up all night hanging outside my house? Ridiculous. "You're speaking in something other than monosyllabic grunts. That must make you a hybrid."

His lips curved in that half smile that shot my internal temperature up five degrees. "Something like that."

I had to look away again, grateful for the cool morning breeze against my hot cheeks. I really, really had to get this under control. What there was of my blunt cut fingernails, I dug unobtrusively into my leg as a distraction. God, at least it was only another couple of miles.

When he passed the turnoff for the research station, I turned back to him. "Where are we going?" The question came out a lot sharper than I'd intended.

Sawyer glanced at me, a frown line between his brows. "Dad's having us meet in one of the north quadrants. He wants to start doing some prey density analysis."

"Oh." I had to work to make my shoulders relax. I could do this. Really, I could.

"You okay, Elodie?" There it was again. That talking to a scared animal tone he used all day yesterday.

Relax. "Fine. Just didn't want to be late two days running."

Huh. Was that weird metallic scent on my skin what a lie smelled like?

His irritation was back again. Good. Maybe he'd get annoyed with my hot/cold routine and decide I wasn't worth the effort.

"You're a lousy liar," he said.

I didn't dare look at him because I didn't have control over my face. "Wh...what are you talking about?" Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why couldn't I keep my voice steady?

"You're afraid of me again."

Damn straight. Panic fluttered in my belly, and I coiled my muscles prepared to... To what? Jump out of the Jeep if he made a move? That was insane. We were going nearly fifty miles per hour.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"You followed me home." The words popped out before I could stop them. Well hell. I'd opened this can of worms, I might as well follow through. "I never told you which house was mine, but you already knew because you followed me home the other day. Didn't you?" My voice didn't squeak as I delivered the accusation. Bonus.

When he didn't immediately respond, I got up the guts to glance at him.

He looked...sheepish? Contrite?

"Yeah, I did," he admitted.

Wouldn't an actual stalker be trying to deny the allegation?

"Why?"

"I was worried about you. For all I knew, you were unstable and were just going to pick back up where I'd stopped you. I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

Well didn't that sound reasonable? It was exactly the kind of logical explanation a stalker would come up with.

"And disappearing like some kind of ghost and playing the creepy stalker was a preferable alternative to actually walking me home?"

"Would you have let me?" he countered.

Okay, no, I wouldn't, because I'd thought him every bit as unstable as he'd thought me. "That's not the point."

"What is the point, Elodie? I screwed up. I admit it. I freaked you out and followed you home all while trying to do the right thing. End of story."

My head hurt from trying to analyze his scent and tone and words. He was angry, but not enraged. Defensive, but who wouldn't be against such charges? Sitting next to him in silence, the whole thing felt stupid. He probably was telling the truth. A nice person probably would have followed a presumably unstable person home just to make sure they got there without killing themselves. Right?

Before I could make any kind of reply - as if there was an appropriate reply for this situation, we turned into the parking area beside the trailhead, suddenly confronted by dozens of cars and milling people.

"Something's up," said Sawyer.

In a glance I took in the half dozen dogs and the deputies from the Sheriff's Department. "That's the K-9 Search and Rescue Unit. Somebody's missing."

He wheeled into a space beside a park ranger's truck and I leapt out, striding over to where a series of tables had been set up with radio equipment, coffee, and snacks. I recognized Eileen Nichols manning the home base and organizing the tracking log. A dispatcher for the county, I'd known Eileen for years because of Dad's job with the fire department. As she finished giving orders to the assembled K-9 unit, I looked around to see if Dad was here. He was still on duty at the fire station, but that didn't necessarily mean he hadn't been called in for this. Eileen dismissed the assorted dogs and their handlers. I waited until she'd finished making notations in the log before I stepped up.

"Oh good. Somebody on the phone tree got you." Eileen glanced over my shoulder, raised a brow. "And you brought reinforcements. Even better."

I didn't bother to look as Sawyer stepped up behind me.

"I didn't get the call," I told her. "What's going on?"

"Missing kids. One your age. You probably know him. Rich Phillips and his little sister Molly."

My mouth dropped open. "What happened?"

"His truck was found at the trailhead by patrol at dawn, and his parents say he didn't come home last night. Last anybody saw him was when he picked Molly up from her Junior Explorers hike yesterday around 4:30."

"His truck was at Hansen's when I passed by a bit after 5 yesterday. There might be something on the security cameras," I told her.

"We'll get somebody to check, see if we can verify when he left and if anybody else was with him. Your dad's already out in the field with Eddie Richenbach, but I can radio to find out their position if you'd like to join in," said Eileen.

"No!" I said. God, the last thing I needed to do was run into my dad right now. "There's no need to pull him from the search or hold him up waiting for me. Where is he?"

She tapped a finger on his last reported location and showed me his assigned sector.

"And what's not currently being covered?"

She pointed to a couple of other areas. "Can you search?"

I hesitated, spotting Dr. McGrath and the rest of the team on the far side of the parking lot, talking to a couple of park rangers. "Not sure yet. I'm technically working right now."

"That's right. Your dad said you were working as a guide this summer. Well, I know you won't steer anybody wrong. You keep your eyes peeled out there today for that Phillips boy."

Sawyer waited until we started toward his father. "You're part of Search and Rescue?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, my mind already on the search to come.

"And what's this thing about being a guide?"

"What my father - and yours - don't know, won't hurt them." When he said nothing, I felt a spurt of panic and turned toward him. "Sawyer, please. I have my reasons."

He studied me for a long moment before dropping his gaze. I followed and saw that my hand was clutched around his forearm. Horrified that I'd touched him without realizing it, I pulled back.

"Please," I said again.

"Give me your reasons, I'll give you my silence," he said.

I grit my teeth, bit back a growl. "That's blackmail."

"I call it curiosity, but hey, potato, potahtoh."

Narrowing my eyes, I said, "There's no time now."

"Later then."