Page 97 of Finding Forever

Stepping into the forest had never been more difficult. My feet moved in time with Eric's, the scent of pine filling my lungs as we walked beyond the first few feet of trees. Drawing strength from Eric’s silent support made the first part of the journey bearable, but by the time we reached the sculpture, I was a nervous wreck.

“My granddad made this when he was about twenty-five years old,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Eric touched the gnarled wood, running his fingers over the holes where the knots had crumbled over time. “Why did he place it here?”

“It used to be in grandma’s garden, but they moved it when I was about six.” I took a deep breath, letting the memories soothe the chaos inside me. “Granddad would come to his hideout most afternoons. Sometimes he’d be late getting home for dinner, so grandma and I would come into the forest to find him.” I ran my hand along the sculpture’s skinny beak. “As long as we followed the direction of the hummingbird’s beak, we wouldn’t get lost.”

“And that’s what you did when Chapman was chasing you?”

I nodded, half-listening for the sound of footsteps behind us. “I didn’t know where to go. When I saw the sculpture, I knew.”

Eric's hand tightened on mine. “What did you do next?”

“I ran. I ran so hard I thought my lungs would explode.” I pulled Eric toward the overgrown trail leading to the hideout. “Chapman was yelling the whole time, telling me about the women he’d killed. I tried to block out his voice, but I couldn’t.”

“If it’s any consolation, you left an easy trail for Sherlock to follow. As soon as he sniffed one of your T-shirts, he knew where you were.”

“I prayed so hard that he’d find me. When I was in the treehouse and heard Sherlock bark, I thought Chapman would go away. But he didn’t. He kept telling me how he was going to kill me, how good it would feel to hear me scream.”

I took a deep breath, trying to control my pounding heart. When we arrived at a small clearing, I studied the forest floor. Specks of yellow fluorescent paint were attached to some of the leaves. “This is where I hurt my leg.”

“The paint will be from the crime scene investigation.”

I nodded, then looked farther along the trail. “The hideout isn’t far from here.”

No matter how hard I tried, my legs wouldn’t move.

“It’s okay. There’s no rush,” Eric said softly.

I studied his face, seeing the beads of sweat covering his forehead. It was bad enough reliving my time in the forest. For Eric, it was worse. His memories of that day were tangled with what happened to Mike. But Mike died. I didn’t.

I squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his presence. “We can do this together.”

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.

A few minutes later, we stood below my granddad’s tree, each lost in our thoughts.

“The ladder’s still caught in the canopy,” I whispered.

Eric lifted his gaze to the frayed rope. “It wasn’t safe to use. After the police arrived, they strung some nylon rescue line around the branches and lifted you off in a stretcher.”

I frowned. “Detective Jameson said you were in the tree with me before they arrived. I thought he meant you’d used the ladder.” My eyes widened. “He meant you really climbed the tree.”

Eric looked at me with a sheepish smile. “I climbed trees all the time when I was younger.”

“You’re nearly forty.”

“That’s not old,” he grumbled. “I might have stretched one or two muscles, but I found you.”

“That’s why you had blisters on your hands.” I studied the tree, then looked back at him. “It’s enormous. Are you sure you’re not related to Tarzan?”

The smile on Eric’s face was good to see. “Would that make you Jane?”

“It depends on whether you want to swing from the branches again.”

Eric looked up at the tree and shook his head. “Not today.”

I kissed his cheek. “That’s good because I wasn’t going to let you.” I glanced around at the leaves and pine needles scattered across the ground. Apart from more fluorescent paint, there was no sign of what happened. “I thought there would be blood everywhere.”

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