Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

start. A final celebratory beer was cracked as the remaining food was divided up, the timing equipment put away, and the results tabulated. Lieutenant Malloy stayed until the very end, but he declined the beer. Everyone was accounted for, even the few who did not finish. The most logical conclusion was that the body they found belonged to someone who had been running as a bandit in the race. It seemed unlikely that he was just some random runner who happened to be out there in the woods that early in the day.
    He walked briskly to his car, noting that all the vehicles in front of the school were gone except for the few belonging to the members of the race committee. The remaining dry leaves in the trees surrounding the school rattled as the wind picked up. The temperature was dropping fast; it was already lower than it was when the sun came up and getting colder by the minute. He shivered. As he opened the car door, a gust of wind nearly pulled it out from his hand.
    As Malloy waited for the heat to kick in, he reviewed his notes. Even though he had been at the finish line nearly all day, and he had talked with dozens of runners and spectators, he did not have any clues as to the identity of the dead man. As heat began to fill his car, he shifted into gear while thinking to himself, “ Maybe, I’ll get lucky and his car will be in the overflow lot down the road. ”
    The overflow parking was less than a mile away, but as he circled the lot, he saw no cars. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath.
    Despite the fact that the inside of his car was getting beyond warm, he was still cold. He stopped and thought about some of what he had learned during the day: Runners were nuts. Why anyone would want to run that far was beyond him; they looked so miserable when they finished and yet acted so thrilled.
    * * *
    After thirty minutes, Polly placed that second call. Again, there was no answer. By late afternoon, she was calling Malcom’s cell every ten minutes, and with each call her panic grew. She called the motel he had stayed at and was assured that he had checked out and had not returned. She found a copy of the race entry and called the information number. There was no answer, but she was able to leave a message. Other calls were placed to Max and Ben’s Place, all with no success. She could only hope that someone would call her back.
    When darkness fell, Polly moved to the kitchen table. She lit a small candle, just for company. As shadows danced within the room’s dark silence she sat cradling a half-finished cup of tea that had grown cold. Sleep finally defeated the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.
    Polly jumped when the sound of the phone reverberated through the room. At the first ring she looked at the clock. For some reason, this seemed an important thing to do. It was nearly 8:00 P.M. Another ring. The sound seemed to explode each nerve in her body. Before the phone rang a third time, she grabbed it with a shaking hand. Her heart felt like it might pound right out of her chest. But the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Malcom’s. She took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, this is she.”
    The conversation lasted less than five minutes, and when the line went dead, she couldn’t hang up the phone, as if that single action would suddenly make the words from the call all the more true. All the strength went out of her legs and she collapsed back into her chair. She stared at the phone, still in her hand, as she fought to get a clean breath and regain control.
    Before hanging up the phone, she tried to remember exactly what she had been told. A runner had been found dead out on the course, but it wasn’t Malcom. The race director was sure of that. Malcom had signed in and finished the race well before noon. There was no mistake. Everyone’s number was checked. He was sorry he couldn’t help her further. She had his number if she needed to contact him again.
    “Malcom, where are you?” she said softly as a tear ran down her cheek. She couldn’t put a name to her fear, but she knew it was very real. She looked at the clock. Only three minutes had passed since the call had ended, and yet it felt like an eternity. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She trusted Malcom. There had to be a logical reason he wasn’t home yet. She’d wait a bit longer before calling the police.

CHAPTER 54
    THE FIRST RAYS OF SUNLIGHT touched Polly’s face and she awoke with a