Because everyone knew Ruthie was a minister’s daughter, doomed to be chaste and boring until she got married.
She bit her lip and mentally chided herself. Coming out tonight had been a stupid idea. If Ruthie happened to get caught by her mother or father as she tried to sneak back into the house, she’d be in deep, deep trouble. Punishment at the McFerron house was meted out by measure, determined by the magnitude of the crime, and usually accompanied by a stern reprimand from her father while her mother’s eyes welled with tears. Ruthie shuddered to think what her father would consider appropriate for lying and leaving the house without permission, allowing her parents to think she was safely asleep in her bed when she was out wandering the countryside and swimming nude while dreaming of Ethan and what it would be like to kiss him. Or more. She blushed at the thought.
Sin after sin after sin.
Quickly she climbed the slimy ladder onto the dock and, feeling goose bumps rise on her flesh, beelined for her tidy stack of clothes. She was reaching for her underwear when she heard a noise.
The rustle of dry leaves?
Big deal. A breath of wind, that was it. Nothing sinister or menacing.
The crack of a twig snapping?
Footsteps drawing nearer?
Her heart froze.
But the other girls were still in the lake. She could see their dark forms as they swam closer to the shore.
She was alone.
Right?
Don’t do this, Ruthie. It’s just your imagination gone wild.
But there it was again: the steady footsteps of something or someone drawing nearer. Thoughts of a wolf prowling, hidden in the night, its head low, its eyes focused on her made her heart thump. Slowly she lowered herself to the pile of clothes, then gasped at the sudden flash of light in the trees.
Heat lightning?
Dear God, please let this be my imagination.
Shivering, she folded her arms across her chest as she heard splashing, the other girls arriving. Good. Then they could leave!
*
Shiloh dragged herself from the water one step behind Katrina and gave her body a little shake as she made her way down the dock. Katrina stood in front of her, smoothing her dark hair back from her face, a sheen of water shining on her skin.
“Finally,” Ruthie said. “I keep seeing something in the bushes.”
“Take it easy.” Shiloh was stretching toward the sky, eyes closed, trying to rub the whole naked thing in Ruthie’s face, when she saw the flash of light. “What the hell was that?”
“Lightning?” Katrina asked, wincing.
Trying to peer deep into the darkness, Shiloh saw a movement, the dark shadow looming, stepping away from the undergrowth.
What the hell?
No way!
But even as she was denying it, telling herself she was letting Ruthie’s stranger-danger fear get the better of her, the hairs on the back of her neck sprang to attention.
A huge bear of a man rose from the scrub. A dark, moving shadow, he charged toward them. Shit!
Fear sizzled down her spine.
Panic gripped her soul.
Who the hell was it?
Why was he here?
For no good reason.
“Run!” she screamed as a flash of light burst before her eyes, blinding her. “Run!” She took off, stumbled, her heart racing as she scrambled over the shoreline and dived into the foliage. “Oof!” She hit the ground hard but pushed herself upright. She heard the other girls running, feet pounding, breathing hard. She blinked and scrambled for footing. The bastard must’ve had a flash camera. But she couldn’t worry about that.
Run, run, run!
Blood thundering in her ears, she raced barefoot through the foliage. Thorny branches scratched her legs. Leaves and limbs slapped her face. Still, she kept moving, plowing forward, adrenaline firing her blood. Faster and faster, her hands outstretched so that she didn’t run headlong into a tree.
Who the hell was the voyeur in the woods?
Her stepfather?
She wouldn’t put it past Larimer Tate, that raving perv, to follow her out here. Inside she withered. Would he? Was he that much of a sicko? Had she stupidly lured her friends out here just so that he could . . . what? Take nudie pics? For what purpose? To leer at her image as he jacked off? Her stomach revolted at the thought.
Faster! Faster! It didn’t matter who the creeper was or what his intentions were. She had to get away, put distance—miles, if possible—between him and herself. And her friends, she reminded herself. Katrina and Ruthie.
Veering around a thicket of spruce, Shiloh picked up the pace, her eyes readjusting to the dim night, her long legs stretching with each stride as she found the wide path they’d used to get to the lake. Now, with moonlight giving her some visibility, she flew along the dirt trail, dry weeds brushing her ankles.
Where were the other girls? Had they gotten away? Oh please . . .
She nearly screamed when some lumbering creature, a skunk or porcupine or whatever, waddled across the path in front of her, but she kept going, all the while feeling its beady eyes watching her. Well, fine, she’d take her chances with the beast rather than whoever it was who had followed them out here.
Her heart was pounding, her lungs beginning to ache. She stubbed her toe on a hidden root, but managed to keep her balance and keep running. Go! Go! Go! She heard footsteps pounding behind her, the rustle of branches being parted. Her heart leapt to her throat as she ran frantically. Whoever was chasing her was breathing hard, audibly.
She didn’t even bother glancing over her shoulder, just shot forward.
Was her pursuer the perv with the camera?
Or his accomplice? Oh God, what if there were more than one of them?
More than two?
No, no, no! It could be Kat on her heels. Or even Ruthie.
Please let it be one of the girls! she silently prayed and wondered fleetingly when was the last time she’d tried to talk to God. Ages. Months. Maybe even years.
Who cared? Whoever was behind her was breathing hard, gasping. Gaining? Oh God!
She spurred herself to run even faster, kicking up dust, feeling a warmth sliding along the bottom of her foot, her toe bleeding and aching. Still she ran, terror urging her forward, a slow-burning anger edging into her consciousness. What did that jerk-wad think he was doing, spying and taking pictures? What kind of creep does that? How did he even know they’d be there? Geez-God, was it Larimer? The guy was built like her hated stepfather, and she wouldn’t put it past the bastard. Oh great. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?
“Jerk,” she muttered and spat as she ran, sprinting through the trees. She heard the creek tumbling over rocks before she saw it, a silver slash in the dappled movement. Without breaking stride, she splashed through the icy water and slipped a little on the muddy bank, her already stubbed toe hitting an exposed root.
“Ouch!” Pain ricocheted up her foot. “Son of a bitch!” Just keep moving!
Gritting her teeth, she pushed on, upward over the slippery edge and onto the dry earth again. Her strides lengthened, but she heard the sound of footsteps pounding the ground behind her.
Was he gaining?