Grand Passion

flashlight on, even though it didn't do much good. Something about the light was reassuring.
    She had not gone more than a few yards when she heard the ring of footsteps on pavement again. Cleo halted once more and turned around.
    “Who's there?”
    The footsteps ceased.
    A chill that had nothing to do with the weather shot down Cleo's spine. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that the flashlight beam made her location more visible in the fog. She flicked the switch, dousing the light.
    The dark mist closed in on her. So did the footsteps.
    Cleo did not question her next move. She reacted instinctively. She started to run.
    When she heard the muted thuds of her own soft-soled sneakers hitting the pavement, another wave of fear went through her. Idiot , she thought. Now she was announcing her location by sound.
    She stopped and listened. The footsteps behind her were louder. Whoever it was would burst through the fog any minute.
    She spun around and plunged into the trees beside the road. The soft, damp earth absorbed the impact of her shoes. Whoever was playing the cat-and-mouse game on the road would be unable to find her by sound alone.
    Cleo worked her way carefully through the trees. She knew she had to be careful about straying too far from the road. If she lost her bearings in this gray soup, she could end up wandering around in the forest until she succumbed to hypothermia.
    She stilled as the footsteps drew relentlessly closer on the road. Afraid to move farther into the under-growth, she crouched down behind a thick fir and pulled the hood of the parka down over her face. She was very glad the coat was dark green rather than a vivid orange or red.
    She prayed she was overreacting.
    She prayed the footsteps would continue on down the road.
    The taste of panic was in her mouth. She recognized it immediately even though she had not felt anything this intense outside of her nightmares for nearly four years.
    The footsteps were directly opposite to her now. They paused for a moment.
    Cleo stopped breathing.
    A few seconds later the stalker continued on down the road.
    Cleo did not take a deep breath until she could no longer hear them.
    Several minutes passed before she eased back the hood of the parka. She allowed a little more time to creep past before she risked getting to her feet.
    She did not dare switch on the flashlight as she made her way back toward the road. For an instant she thought she had gone in the wrong direction. The pavement was not where it was supposed to be.
    Then she felt the graveled shoulder beneath her shoes. Relief poured through her, leaving her weak and jittery.
    When she reached the blacktop, Cleo stopped and listened intently again. The growling purr of a sophisticated automobile engine sounded in the distance. The driver was moving slowly along the road, either out of respect for the blinding fog or because he was searching for someone.
    Cleo started to retreat back into the woods, but at the last minute she hesitated. There was something familiar about the muted roar of that particular car engine.
    A few seconds later Max's green Jaguar emerged from the fog like a sleek beast of prey. The low beams of the headlights sliced through the thick mist.
    Cleo switched on the flashlight and waved it about wildly. The light bounced around, dancing on the gray fog. “Max, stop,” she yelled. “It's me.”
    The Jaguar halted swiftly. The door on the driver's side slammed open and Max got out, cane in hand. Cleo could not see the expression on his face, but she could hear the steel in his voice.
    “Cleo. For God's sake, what do you think you're doing?”
    “Walking home.” Cleo ran toward him. “Max, I've never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life. I was so scared.”
    She threw herself against his chest and clung to him like moss on a log. Max grunted under the impact, but he kept his balance with one hand on the top of the car door. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her close.
    “What's wrong?” he asked harshly. “Are you all right?”
    “Someone was following me. At least, I think he was.” Cleo realized she sounded breathless and unnerved. “I could hear footsteps in the fog. I think they were footsteps. They sort of echoed. And there was no other sound and…oh, God, Max, I'm not sure if I really did hear them. But I hid in the woods, anyway. And then you came along.”
    His arm tightened around her. “Are you sure you're all