Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

him, paused, and then began to giggle. “We must. I think we need a story.”
    “Isn’t the truth good enough?”
    “I suppose it is,” she said as she continued crutching along.
    When they reached the playground, the race director saw them and came right over.
    “Hey guys. How’re you holding up?”
    “Fine, just need to get into some warmer clothes. Any word on who he was?” asked Jack.
    “No idea. So far everyone who has finished has been accounted for and the last few dozen out on the course, I know personally.”
    Lieutenant Malloy joined them. “Jack, Sylvie. You doin’ okay?”
    They both nodded yes. He added, “I’m going to get going. You have my card, so call me if you think of anything else.”
    “Sure,” said Jack.
    The lieutenant turned and walked away.
    “So Sylvie, do you need a ride home?” It was Christos.
    She looked over at him and smiled. “No, my right foot is fine, so I can drive. I could use a hand getting my stuff to the car though.”
    “Let me,” he said as he reached for her bag.
    Turning toward Jack, Sylvie extended her arms while still managing to keep the crutches secure. He stepped into the offered hug, and as they embraced, Sylvie said softly, “Jack, thank you. I hope we never do this again.”
    All he heard was ‘never … again.’ His heart skipped a beat, and he pulled away as disappointment washed over him before he saw her smile and understood.
    She must have seen his reaction because she quickly added, “I mean this,” indicating their wounds. “ Let’s keep in touch.” She handed him a piece of paper with a phone number on it.
    He blushed a bit as he recovered and stammered, “Yes, let’s.”
    Christos picked up Sylvie’s bag. “Ready?”
    She nodded and they all headed for the parking lot.
    * * *
    “Jack! What happened?” cried Max when she saw him.
    Dave answered for him. “He had a rough day.”
    “I can see that. What actually happened?”
    Dave started to answer, but Jack cut him short. “I fell.”
    Max didn’t say anything else, but the look on her face demanded a better answer than that. Dave cut in, “He fell on the trail, rolled down a hill and landed on another runner.”
    “Jack!” she cried again.
    “I’m fine.”
    “You’re not.”
    Dave jumped in again. “No, he’s fine, just a few scrapes, bumps, and bruises.” Then he added, “and maybe a mild concussion.”
    “A concussion! Jack Beale, you’re getting cleaned up and we’re going to the hospital.”
    “Max, I’m fine. A little rest and I’ll be okay. It’s nothing, really.”
    “Yeah, I can see that,” Max said sarcastically.
    She wasn’t buying it, and her look said more than any words could. “And what about the other guy? The one you landed on top of?”
    It was Dave’s turn, “Oh, he’s dead.”
    An uneasy silence filled the room.
    She finally exploded. “Dead! What do you mean he’s dead?” Panic had crept into her voice.
    It was now Jack’s turn. “Max, take it easy. Dave’s just messin’ with you.”
    “But he said the guy was dead.”
    “Oh, he was.”
    “This isn’t funny Jack Beale.”
    “I know. He was already dead, at the bottom of the hill, and he probably wouldn’t have been found if I hadn’t tripped and fallen. Landing on him kept me from hitting a tree that probably would have killed me. So we each did the other a favor.”
    “Oh my God,” murmured Max under her breath.

CHAPTER 53
    IT WAS MID-AFTERNOON before Polly realized that she hadn’t heard from Malcom, who had gone down to the race the night before. He had woken her up that morning with a phone call at 4:30. In response to her grumpy “Hello?” he had apologized and said that he loved her. Mollified, she had wished him good luck. The last thing he had said before hanging up was that he’d call after the race, just before he started home.
    Now she told herself that there were any number of reasons why he hadn’t called: maybe there was no cell coverage, maybe he had forgotten, maybe he had lost his phone. She tried calling his cell. It rang, but he didn’t answer before it cut to voicemail, so she left a message. Convinced that there was a logical reason why he hadn’t picked up, she decided to wait a half hour before trying again. Still, as much as she tried to reassure herself that nothing was wrong, she was worried.
    * * *
    The race was over for another year. The final fifty-miler finished and it was almost as dark out now as it had been at the