Moving Target by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

came apart at a touch. Decomposed granite, or DG as the natives called it, was tricky in dry weather and treacherous in rain. If it had been wet, she wouldn’t have tried the cliff at all. Even as dry as it was, she still slipped and nearly went down several times before she pulled herself close to the lip of the hidden cave.
    The old broomstick she had left jammed among the rocks was still there, weathered silver and hard as stone. She grabbed the stick, poked it into the overhang, and waited. No furious rattling sound came from the gloom at the back of the cave. She poked again just to be sure; rattlesnakes loved the little cave as much as she did, which was why she had stashed a broomstick nearby after she discovered the cave as a girl.
    When she was sure she was safe, she pulled herself over the lip of the hidden cave. Wedging herself out of sight was harder now than it had been when she was eight or even twelve. Despite her slender appearance, there was a lot of her to conceal. The cave had been a skinny child’s hiding place, not one designed for a woman five feet seven inches tall in her bare feet.
    Lying on her side, she brought her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs back against her body until only the scuffed toes of her shoes poked out. As for the rest, her dusty jeans and dark-blue denim shirt blended right into the shadows.
    Breathing hard, she looked down at the cabin just in time to see a man get out of a dusty silver Mercedes SUV. He glanced around, then called something that could have been her name.
    She didn’t answer.
    He called again.
    This time Serena was sure it was her name. It didn’t make her feel any more like answering. As she hadn’t told anyone that she was coming here, she had to assume that she had been followed.
    It wasn’t a comforting thought.
    Silent, motionless, she watched while the man walked slowly around the house, zigzagging as though he was looking for something in particular. She had time to notice that he was a rather tall man, certainly too big for comfort. He also moved too easily, casually vaulting a wall here and leaping down an embankment there, landing lightly, and searching, always searching, the ground.
    Whatever he was looking for, it didn’t take him long to find. He went back to his SUV, took out some rough country shoes, pulled them on, and started up the faint trail that led to the cave. Very quickly he vanished into a crease in the land.
    Serena waited, almost afraid to breathe. If he was following her trail, in about a minute he would appear in the open spot before the ravine.
    She saw him in much less than a minute. His long legs devoured the ground at a frightening pace. His eyes searched the granite wall as though he sensed she was hiding in one of the dark pockets scattered across the crumbling face of the cliff.
    Instantly she began planning her escape route. If he attempted the tricky climb up to the cave, she would scramble up to the top of the wall and then over and into the next ravine, which led to the back of the cabin. It was the short way down. She would be in her car and gone before he was halfway up the wall.
    “Serena? Are you all right?”
    When she didn’t answer, he started up the broken cliff as though it was a walk in the park. His speed and coordination scared the hell out of her.
    The cave had become a trap.
    She shot out of the darkness and lunged at the crumbling wall that stood between her and a safe route back to the cabin. She was only a few feet from the top of the wall when a piece of rotten granite crumbled under her foot. Suddenly she was skidding, falling, turning. She threw her arms out wide, trying to catch something that would stop her fall.
    Powerful hands clamped around one flailing wrist. Then she slammed up against the wall with enough force to knock her breath out. Even so, she would have kept on sliding if it hadn’t been for something at her back, wedging her against the rocks.
    That something was a man. A big