In the Arms of Stone Angels - By Jordan Dane Page 0,10
its light, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
“Shit!” I cursed under my breath.
Now the man was running after me, yelling something I couldn’t hear. As he closed in, I felt my heart pounding and my lungs were on fire. If only I could make the stone wall, I’d know where to hide, but the man’s footsteps grew louder.
And I knew I’d never make it.
chapter two
My chances of getting away were blown apart by the man chasing me. He was too fast. When I knew I wouldn’t make the stone wall of the cemetery, images flashed through my head. I pictured getting raped or killed, but I wasn’t going down like some crying, scared little girl. I stopped and turned, clutching the flashlight in my hands and bracing my body for a fight. And when I flicked on the light, I pointed it at him and clenched my right fist, ready to punch him.
Putting on a show—of courage I didn’t have—was my only defense.
“Stop. Don’t come any closer,” I demanded. I sounded angry, but I was mostly scared. “Why are you chasing me?” My voice cracked.
The light blinded him. He stopped dead in his tracks and raised a hand to block the glare. I kept the light steady on his face, but I saw how much bigger he was than me. And I saw one other thing.
The guy wore a uniform and he carried a gun. I’d been running from a cop. Great, just great!
“I didn’t know you were…” I choked. And I was seriously out of breath. “You…scared me.”
“I identified myself back there, but you kept running.” With all the yelling he’d done, the stuff I never heard, the cop probably did try to identify himself. Now he was winded from chasing me and he took charge. “I need to see ID.”
“You first. Show me your badge.” I had my rights. And even though I wasn’t sure if I’d broken any laws being in a graveyard after hours, I figured it never hurt to stall. After all, I’d lived my life procrastinating. And that wouldn’t change anytime soon, not if I could put it off.
But my biggest reason to stall was that I left home without ID. What the hell? Who knew?
In the pale glow of my flashlight, I got a look at the badge of Deputy Will Tate. He wasn’t ancient like Sheriff Logan. This guy was much younger. If I had to guess, I would say he was in his mid to late twenties. And he definitely tipped the scale toward cute. He had short brown hair and kind blue eyes with a faint dimple on his right cheek when he talked. The deputy hadn’t been around two years ago when I had my troubles. If he had, I would have remembered him.
The way I figured it, I had a slim shot at talking my way out of being hauled in for trespassing by this deputy, except for one obstacle.
Talking. I hated talking, especially in sentences.
It wasn’t my thing, but I had to give it a shot. I sure as hell didn’t want Mom to find out I’d gotten busted on my first night in Shawano. And when I thought of facing Sheriff Logan again, I would have preferred eating glass to spending more time in his jail.
Talking. I had to talk. Shit!
“How did you know I was here?” I asked. A girl had to know where she went wrong.
“I saw you scale the wall.” He didn’t look happy. “What were you doing in the cemetery at this hour?”
It didn’t take me long to come up with an answer.
“My grandmother died and I came to see her. To talk to her.” I had plans to visit Grams before I left the graveyard. I hadn’t completely lied. “I missed her funeral and my mom and I just got back to town. I had to see Grams. We were close, real close.”
I nodded and shoved my hands into my jean jacket, avoiding his eyes. I never knew what to do with my hands. And even though I was laying it on thick, what I’d told him hadn’t all been lies.
“By now you’re probably figuring out that I left home without ID. I didn’t figure I’d get carded at the cemetery. My name’s Brenna Nash. My mom and I just got in to Oklahoma from North Carolina today.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Using my thumbs, I keyed up the ID on my phone. “See?