Midnight Sun (The Twilight Saga #5) - Stephenie Meyer Page 0,258

following. Giving up didn’t feel like a valid option.

Midmorning, Esme texted. Can you talk?

Is there any chance he’ll hear me? Carlisle wanted to know.

“If only,” I sighed.

Carlisle called Esme and they spoke while we ran. She had no real news, she was mostly worried about us. The redhead was still in the area, but she wouldn’t come within five miles of Esme or Rosalie. Rosalie had done some scouting, and it appeared the redhead had gone to the high school in the night, and through most of the public buildings in town. She’d hadn’t gone north toward our house again, and she’d only gone as far south as the municipal airstrip, but she seemed to be hiding herself to the east, maybe keeping close to Seattle for a bigger hunting ground. She’d tried Charlie’s house one time, but not until he’d left for work. Esme had never been more than a few yards from Charlie throughout, which was impressive, since he had no idea she was there.

There was nothing more, no clues. She and Carlisle exchanged pained I love yous, and then we were back to the mind-numbing chase. The tracker was headed north again, enjoying himself too much to take the easy escape.

It was midafternoon when we came to another lake, crescent-shaped and not as large as the others he’d used to slow us. Without having to discuss it, we each decided to follow our usual search routes. Quickly, Alice responded Em. Backtracking to the south, then.

Once we had his scent again, it led us through a small town tucked into a mountain pass. It was big enough for a light flow of traffic on the narrow streets. We had to slow down—and I hated that, even though I knew it didn’t matter. We were too far behind for our speed to make any difference. But it soothed me to think that he’d probably had to move at human speed, too. I wondered why he would bother. Maybe he was thirsty. I was sure he knew he had time to stop for a bite.

We darted from building to building, trusting my senses to let us know if anyone was watching, running when we could. We were obviously not dressed warmly enough for the weather here—and if anyone looked closely, we were also soaking wet—and I tried to weave us around human vantage points to avoid catching any attention.

We made it to the outskirts of town without discovering any fresh corpses, so he must not have been looking to quench his thirst. What was he seeking, then?

To the south now.

We followed his trail to a large, rough shed in the middle of an open field, thick with thorny brambles that were still winter bare. The wide doors to the shed were propped open. The inside of the shed was mostly empty, just stacks of mechanical and automotive clutter lining the walls. The scent led into the shed and was more set into the ground here, as if he’d lingered for a moment. I could only think of one reason, and I searched for the scent of blood. Nothing. All I could smell was exhaust… gasoline.…

I felt sick as I realized what I hadn’t seen at first. With a low oath, I darted out of the shed and vaulted over the tall brambles. Emmett and Carlisle followed, back on high alert after the stupefying hours of failure.

And there, on the other side, was a long line of flattened dirt, rolled as smooth as possible, about two hundred feet wide, stretching at least a mile to the west.

It was private airstrip.

I cursed again.

I’d been too focused on the water escape. There was an air escape, too.

The plane would be tiny and slow, not much faster than a car. No more than one hundred forty miles an hour, if it was in good condition. The slipshod little hangar made me think it probably wasn’t. He’d have to stop for gas frequently if he intended to go far.

But he could go in any direction at all, and we had no way to follow.

I looked at Carlisle, and his eyes were just as disappointed and hopeless as mine.

Will he go back to Forks to try to pick up her trail?

I frowned. “It would make sense, but it seems a little obvious. Not quite his style.”

Where else can we go?

I sighed.

Should I?

I nodded. “Make the call.”

He pressed the redial button. It only rang once.

“Alice?”

“Carlisle,” I heard her breathe.

I leaned closer, anxious, though I could already hear.

“Are