Page 8 of Hunted By the Mountain Man

“Sometimes.”

“Me, too. My van’s set up for crashing as needed.”

“So, we’re taking similar approaches to the HRT.”

“I doubt that,” he snorts. “You seem a lot more into this than I am, and from what I saw at the trailhead earlier today, you’re definitely more geared up, too. I’m just dabbling in the whole backcountry thing, really.”

“What made you head out here in the first place, then?” I ask, taking a sip of ale.

“I’m a people watcher. It’ll never get old. The psychology of individuals, how they act under pressure and in various circumstances. Like you, today in the parking lot. You looked nervous as hell, maybe even a little scared. Definitely too distracted to be driving.”

I admit, “I was a little weirded out. I had this stranger confront me at the lake, and then follow me down to my car. It was a little weird.”

“He scared you, then?”

I hesitate. “Scared isn’t the word. But the situation took an unpleasant turn.”

His eyes narrow. “Hmm… That’s a strange way to react to a man approaching you out of nowhere. Most women would be terrified.”

“Maybe.”

“Then again, maybe he was nothing to be afraid of?”

I shake my head. “The man was intimidating … professional wrestler-sized.”

Ralph asks, lifting his glass for a gulp, “Have you reported the incident to the park service or the sheriff’s department?”

“No.”

His eyes narrow. “Why not?”

I shrug. “Because apart from a small portion of audio video when he first started talking to me, I have no proof he followed or harassed me.”

“Hmm… Sounds creepy as hell to me. I wonder why he was up there anyway? Maybe checking out the murder scene?”

“Quit thinking the worst,” I scold, overwhelmed by the heaviness of the somber room. “We don’t even know if they’re dead.”

“Sorry,” he says, staring unblinkingly at the wall.

“And by the time they do know more, we’ll probably all be long gone from Murrieta.”

“Are you leaving, then?”

I shrug. That was the plan until I fell for my mountain man stalker. “It’s about time to move on.”

He nods. “But it’s too soon to give up. Especially on a trail where ninety-seven percent of hikers get denied a permit. Luckily, there’s strength in numbers. Those two hikers never stood a chance … alone and afraid in the woods…” He stares off into the distance for a long moment. “But a group our size? Who’s going to confront us?”

“You have a point,” I say, quirking my mouth.

“Does that mean you’re in for the day after tomorrow?” Lydia asks, her blonde bob bouncing as she speaks.

“What happens then?”

“The Alpine Lakes Loop. We’re thinking eightish for a quick breakfast before departure. Tons of people frequent it, which is a con if you hate crowds. But at the same time, it’ll feel safer.”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means by “safer.” I think we all need to feel that way these days. But my hotel booking ran out this afternoon, which means I’m back to sleeping in my 4Runner. I wonder if I can sneak in for breakfast in two days undetected?

Ralph says, “The elevation’ll be tough, but no worse than Lake Florence. And there won’t be as many mosquitoes up there like the lower elevation lakes.”

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