Eye of the Beholder (23 page)

Chances were Guthrie had not been the confiding type, but if he had talked to someone, that someone might have been the woman he had slept with during the past few months.

The rustling sighs of the branches overhead sounded unwholesome. There was a hungry, yearning quality to the soft whispers. An unpleasant tingling sensation brushed across the nape of Alexa's neck.

No one came to answer the door.

She exhaled slowly, aware of a curious sense of relief. She had not been all that enthusiastic about talking to Liz Guthrie anyway.

She turned away from the door, intending to walk back down the steps to her car. But something made her glance to the side of the house. The door of the garage was closed. Liz's car might or might not be inside.

It would be simple enough to check.

And just what the heck was she going to do if the car was parked inside the garage? she wondered. The woman had a right not to answer her door.

Nevertheless, she had driven several miles out of her way to talk to Liz. She had been invited, more or less. There was no harm in ascertaining whether or not her reluctant hostess was home.

She went swiftly down the steps and around the corner of the house. There was a single, grimy window on the side of the garage wall.

She peered through the darkened glass. There was no car inside.

Maybe Liz had changed her mind.

But she had been home little more than an hour ago and had planned to meditate with her personal guide until ten, Alexa reminded herself.

She turned to retrace her steps and paused when she noticed that the blind in the kitchen window was raised. A deep, intuitive disquiet swept through her.

She walked hesitantly up the rear steps of the deck and glanced into the kitchen. She was not spying, she told herself. It was a casual glance.

Who was she kidding? She might as well admit that she was getting nervous. Something felt wrong.

An empty cereal bowl and a mug sat on the tiled counter near the sink.
And what can we deduce from that, Ms. Sleuth? That Liz was definitely home this morning? We already know that much.

She walked around the side of the house. The drapes were pulled across a wide bank of windows. The living room, no doubt. She walked farther along the deck and turned a corner.

Ahead of her a small sun room projected out from the wall of the house. It was windowed on two sides and the ceiling. A sliding glass door formed the third wall.

The slider was open two or three inches. The edge of a long, cream-colored curtain fluttered in the breeze.

Alexa walked along the deck to the glass door.

“Is anyone home?” she called through the crack. “Liz? It's Alexa Chambers. If you're in there, I'd really like to talk to you.”

There was no response.

The wind sighed eerily in the thick branches behind her. Shadow Canyon was really getting to her today.

“Mrs. Guthrie? It's important.”

She gave up trying to shake off the sense of impending disaster. Opening the slider, she grasped a handful of curtain and lifted it out of the way.

She found herself staring into a small, minimally furnished room done in neutral shades. There were no chairs, only a single pale pillow placed in the center of the milk-colored carpet. There was also a bookcase and a low, wooden table. A large chunk of rose-pink crystal sat in the center of the table.

A pair of shoji screens paneled with squares of a white, translucent fabric sealed the glass chamber from the rest of the house. The screens were closed, blocking the view of the room or hall beyond the chamber.

Liz Guthrie's meditation room.

Alexa knew that the Dimensions seminar program emphasized the necessity of creating a personal, private space in which to meditate. In terms
of priorities, it was right up there with keeping one's personal meditation journal up to date. In the course of her short affiliation with the Institute, she had failed in both endeavors. Privately, she put the blame on the boredom that had overcome her every time she tried to get into meditation mode.

She glanced at the low bookcase and was not surprised to see that the shelves were crammed with a variety of Dimensions Institute publications, including Liz's copy of
Living the Dimensions Way.

A familiar volume sheathed in a turquoise and white dust jacket lay open on top of the bookcase. A Dimensions personal journal.

Alexa thought about the one she had been given when she took the Beginning Guided Meditation Seminar. She had dutifully written in it for three whole days before concluding that her progress in the Dimensions Way was not only going to be quite brief, it would also be extremely dull.

She hesitated. She had no right to enter the house. But the feeling of wrongness was getting stronger by the minute.

“Liz?”

She drew a breath and stepped into the meditation retreat.

A sudden shifting of the light on the other side of the closed shoji screens made her flinch. Her pulse, already trotting along at a brisk clip, broke into a wild gallop. She stared at the white panels.

“Liz, it's me, Alexa Chambers.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud and a little too thin and high to her own ears.

A dark figure loomed on the other side of the semitransparent panels. The head was too round.
There were no arms or legs, just a long, shadowy form. It moved slowly toward her.

A scream surged up out of nowhere. Alexa fought it with every ounce of willpower she possessed.

The figure came closer to the screen.

Common sense finally returned. Alexa realized that what she was looking at was a person dressed in a hooded robe. Liz Guthrie must have been in the shower.

“I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't scare you, Liz.” Lord, now she sounded much too bright and cheery. “I know I had no right to intrude like this, but when you didn't answer the door I was afraid something might have happened.”

There was no verbal response from the person on the other side of the screen. But a shadowy arm rose. Alexa could see quite clearly the outline of the long-bladed knife in the hand.

A knife.

She was finally ready to believe in malevolent vortices and dark forces. She could literally feel them emanating toward her from the figure on the other side of the screen.

Probably not Liz Guthrie.

Whirling, she leaped back through the open glass door.

The car. She had to get to it.

No, not the car. That was exactly what the guy with the knife would expect her to do. The Camry was parked at the front of the house. She was all the way around at the back.

The intruder could easily beat her to the car by running through the house and out the front door.

Her only hope was to lose herself in the heavy stand of trees or in one of the little caves that dotted the walls of Shadow Canyon.

She felt her heavy satchel start to slide off her shoulder as she dashed across the deck. She was about to let it go so that she could run unencumbered. Then she recalled the cell phone inside. She tightened her grip on the strap, jumped off the low deck, and flung herself into the trees.

Branches and scrubby underbrush closed around her before she had taken a dozen strides. She glanced back over her shoulder. She could no longer see the entire deck, but she heard footsteps pound on the wooden planks.

The intruder was pursuing her.

She glimpsed the edge of a flapping black robe. Dead leaves and needles crackled and snapped.

It was a scene out of a nightmare, the awful kind in which one was pursued by a faceless menace.

Alexa plunged deeper into the woods, afraid that she might be running for her life.

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The ground sloped upward rapidly. Her sandals slipped and skidded on dead pine needles. She put out a hand and managed to catch hold of a trailing branch; used it to haul herself forward.

Branches slapped her in the face as she plowed through the maze of trees. Her breathing was already labored. How long could she run flat out?

Even though it was unlikely her pursuer could see her any better than she could see him, she knew she gave away her position with every move she made.

She could hear him, too. He was not pounding through the woods the way she was. He was taking his time, pausing to listen for the sounds she made, closing in on her.

She could not go on like this. She had to go to ground long enough to call 911 on the cell phone. If she could get to one of the caverns that studded the area, she might be able to conceal herself inside.

The hulking trees stepped up the side of the ancient canyon. The incline sharpened still more.

The first rocky opening loomed without warning, a pitch-black lair that could have concealed anything from a rattler to a family of coyotes.

Not that she was fussy at the moment, Alexa thought. Still, instinct sent her racing past the opening. It was too obvious.

She glanced back over her shoulder. She thought she caught another glimpse of the black robe. It vanished almost instantly behind a veil of fir boughs.

The climb grew steeper and more treacherous. Small pebbles shifted beneath the soles of her sandals. The remains of an old rock fall littered her path. She worked her way around the largest of the tumbled boulders. The larger stones offered some cover.

She paused once to listen. Over the groans and sighs of the trees she heard the steady, oncoming footfalls. The hooded figure was not hurrying, but he was still in relentless pursuit. It was as if he was confident that he would overtake her when she eventually tired.

He was probably right.

She hitched the satchel higher on her shoulder and reached out to grab hold of an outcropping of rough stone. More loose rock fragments slithered beneath her feet. She realized that if she was not very careful she would start a small landslide that would carry her down with it.

A landslide. She looked around. There was evidence of several of them in the vicinity.

She searched the mounded boulders and chunks of stone for another dark opening. She passed up three before she noticed one that was partially blocked by a heap of tumbled rock debris.

It looked impossibly far away. She thought about the knife and renewed strength flowed from somewhere. She managed to climb to the dark entrance. Praying that she would not come face-to-face with some creature who might take offense at the intrusion, she worked her way over the barrier of loosened stones.

Nothing hissed, rattled, or roared out of the inky darkness.

She crouched behind the bulwark of stones and rocks and let the satchel slide off her shoulder. She dared not look out over the rocky barricade for fear her pursuer would spot her. In hindsight, her orange and yellow striped blouse had probably not been a wise fashion choice this morning, she thought. It was as bright as a beacon. All too easy to see.

She sank deeper into the darkness and strained to listen for sounds of her pursuer.

Pebbles rattled down below. He was still in pursuit.

She gripped the largest of the rocks that half-closed the opening of the crevasse and shoved with all of her might.

For a terrifying instant, nothing happened.

And then, with a grinding, grating rumble, the mount of rock debris in front of the small cave began to shift.

Slowly, but with gathering energy and noise, the small avalanche of loose stones picked up momentum. Alexa pushed several more chunks of jagged rock over the edge of the opening.

“Nooo…”

The cry was high and shrill. A scream of fright and rage.
Alexa could not tell if it was male or female.

There was no way to hear footsteps above the sound of falling stones, but she sensed that the other was frantically scurrying to get clear of the shower of rock.

The noise of the cascading debris seemed to go on forever.

A rush of triumph brought a strange euphoria.

“Don't mess with the wild woman,” she whispered as she pushed a few more pounds of rubble down the slope.

She huddled in the shadows of the crevasse and listened until an unnatural silence fell. The brief thrill of victory dissipated as quickly as it had come. An annoying series of shivers took its place.

For the first time she became aware of the dark, close confines of her hiding place. Claustrophobia squeezed through her. She fought it with deep breathing. The Dimensions Institute training had been good for something after all, she thought.

After a while, when she heard nothing moving on the path beneath the cave, she opened her purse and took out the cell phone.

Punching out the emergency number was not easy. The stupid little instrument would not hold still in the palm of her shaking hand.

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