After Darkness Fell by David Berardelli Page B

Using light from a pocket flashlight, I put the keys in the container, snapped the lid shut and dropped it in its shallow dirt bed. After covering it with dirt, I rolled the rock back over it.
    Straightening, I flicked off the flashlight and hung it from a ring fixed to my ammo belt. I grabbed a penlight from the pocket of my jacket and used it to guide my way down the concrete walk. When I reached the driveway, I faced the top of the hill and took a deep breath.
    Before setting out, I said in a soft voice, “Fields, I don’t know what happened tonight or where you are, but I’ll find you. I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I ever do, and I promise that if anyone hurt you in any way, they’ll pay dearly.”
    My anger surged within me, but I fought it down, knowing this wasn’t the right time to let it out.
    I had more important things on my agenda.
    ***
    My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Flicking off the penlight, I climbed the hill that went past the garage, and in just a few minutes reached the clearing leading to the woods that made up a third of my grandparents’ 88-acre farm. The huge black fortress of pines and buckeyes looming a hundred yards straight ahead resembled a shapeless demon waiting to devour me. I hesitated, nearly stumbling, but kept my focus on the narrow winding trail cutting through its center.
    I kept the long-barreled Ruger in my right hand as I crept silently over the tall brush, my ears pricked for the slightest disturbance in the eerie silence of the night. The whispering of the wind through the trees and the distant hooting of an owl barely penetrated the cool stillness.
    As I approached the harsh underbrush leading into the woods, I slowed my pace and kept the beam of the penlight directly in front of me. Before venturing on, I studied the solid black mass of the trees towering above me and let my eyes acclimate. Alert for sudden glints, as well as rustling sounds, I resumed walking. The Ruger was perfect for this type of work. It was light yet sturdy; its long slab barrel could be used as a club if I was unable to shoot in time.
    Soon I was among the trees. The clearness of the night turned black and cold, and my visibility diminished drastically. I slowed my pace, scanning all around me and turning around frequently to make sure no one was sneaking up to me. I wanted to call out for Fields but knew that would be dangerous. I wanted to believe she wasn’t far, but had to consider the facts. If she’d fallen and twisted an ankle, I would have already found her. This alone told me she might have become victim of foul play. She could have been knocked unconscious and carried or dragged away. At this moment, while I searched for her, she could be imprisoned in some psycho’s basement a mere mile away ... and who knew what could be happening.
    Stop this! It will only frustrate you and take your attention away from your mission .
    I stopped moving and spent the next couple of minutes taking deep breaths to calm myself. I was going to find her. No matter what happened, I was going to find Fields, and she was going to be okay.
    Feeling more confident, I began moving again.
    About twenty minutes later, just as I was about to reach the general area near where I’d found her Ladysmith, the toe of my tennis shoe bumped something protruding from the weeds. I fell forward and landed on my right side. In an instant I rolled onto my back, the Ruger up and ready as I feverishly scanned my surroundings.
    I remained on my back, the Ruger in my right hand, the penlight in my left, sliding the slender white beam carefully over both sides of the trail as I listened for movement. I heard nothing. I stayed there, alert for rustling, soft footsteps—anything that would warn me someone was coming.
    The silence continued.
    I sat up and stuck the penlight between my teeth. Then I grabbed the pocket flashlight from my ammo belt and began exploring the area more thoroughly.
    I quickly discovered that