Eye of the Beholder

other side of the closed shoji screens made her flinch. Her pulse, already trotting along at a brisk clip, broke into a wild gallop. She stared at the white panels.
    "Liz, it's me, Alexa Chambers." Her voice sounded unnaturally loud and a little too thin and high to her own ears.
    A dark figure loomed on the other side of the semitransparent panels. The head was too round .
    There were no arms or legs, just a long, shadowy form. It moved slowly toward her.
    A scream surged up out of nowhere. Alexa fought it with every ounce of willpower she possessed.
    The figure came closer to the screen.
    Common sense finally returned. Alexa realized that what she was looking at was a person dressed in a hooded robe. Liz Guthrie must have been in the shower.
    "I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't scare you, Liz." Lord, now she sounded much too bright and cheery. "I know I had no right to intrude like this, but when you didn't answer the door I was afraid something might have happened."
    There was no verbal response from the person on the other side of the screen. But a shadowy arm rose. Alexa could see quite clearly the outline of the long-bladed knife in the hand.
    A knife.
    She was finally ready to believe in malevolent vortices and dark forces. She could literally feel them emanating toward her from the figure on the other side of the screen.
    Probably not Liz Guthrie.
    Whirling, she leaped back through the open glass door.
    The car. She had to get to it.
    No, not the car. That was exactly what the guy with the knife would expect her to do. The Camry was parked at the front of the house. She was all the way around at the back.
    The intruder could easily beat her to the car by running through the house and out the front door.
    Her only hope was to lose herself in the heavy stand of trees or in one of the little caves that dotted the walls of Shadow Canyon .
    She felt her heavy satchel start to slide off her shoulder as she dashed across the deck. She was about to let it go so that she could run unencumbered. Then she recalled the cell phone inside. She tightened her grip on the strap, jumped off the low deck, and flung herself into the trees.
    Branches and scrubby underbrush closed around her before she had taken a dozen strides. She glanced back over her shoulder. She could no longer see the entire deck, but she heard footsteps pound on the wooden planks.
    The intruder was pursuing her.
    She glimpsed the edge of a flapping black robe. Dead leaves and needles crackled and snapped.
    It was a scene out of a nightmare, the awful kind in which one was pursued by a faceless menace.
    Alexa plunged deeper into the woods, afraid that she might be running for her life.

21

    The ground sloped upward rapidly. Her sandals slipped and skidded on dead pine needles. She put out a hand and managed to catch hold of a trailing branch; used it to haul herself forward.
    Branches slapped her in the face as she plowed through the maze of trees. Her breathing was already labored. How long could she run flat out?
    Even though it was unlikely her pursuer could see her any better than she could see him, she knew she gave away her position with every move she made.
    She could hear him, too. He was not pounding through the woods the way she was. He was taking his time, pausing to listen for the sounds she made, closing in on her.
    She could not go on like this. She had to go to ground long enough to call 911 on the cell phone. If she could get to one of the caverns that studded the area, she might be able to conceal herself inside.
    The hulking trees stepped up the side of the ancient canyon. The incline sharpened still more.
    The first rocky opening loomed without warning, a pitch-black lair that could have concealed anything from a rattler to a family of coyotes.
    Not that she was fussy at the moment, Alexa thought. Still, instinct sent her racing past the opening. It was too obvious.
    She glanced back over her shoulder. She thought she caught another glimpse of the black robe. It vanished almost instantly behind a veil of fir boughs.
    The climb grew steeper and more treacherous. Small pebbles shifted beneath the soles of her sandals. The remains of an old rock fall littered her path. She worked her way around the largest of the tumbled boulders. The larger stones offered some cover.
    She paused once to listen. Over the groans and sighs of the trees she heard the steady, oncoming footfalls. The hooded figure was not hurrying, but he was still in relentless