“Are you sure everything’s okay?” His voice was deep, masculine. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t. I mean, you did.” She didn’t recognize the man and lots of people used the trails around the Ogeechee, but if he recognized her—knew who her father was—and thought she was going to jump . . . “I really need to go.”

“Ma’am—”

But Lane didn’t wait to hear what the stranger had to say. A crack of thunder echoed in the distance like a warning and Lane headed for the protection of the copse of live oaks guarding one side of the river. It wasn’t the way she had come, but she knew the Coastal Highway ran parallel to the river. If she could get to the highway, she could follow it back to where her car was parked and avoid any further questions. Questions she couldn’t answer.

Wasn’t allowed to answer.

The dense woods grew darker the deeper she went, making the path difficult to see—if she was even on a path. Too dark to tell. Large roots climbed out of the ground and forced her to slow to avoid tripping over them. Humidity thickened the air and Lane’s chest squeezed with each breath. As she passed beneath a low branch, a vile odor washed over her. She jolted to a stop.

What is that? The odorous assault made Lane’s head swim and her stomach rebel. Was it a dead animal? She didn’t want to find out. Forcing herself to breathe through her mouth, Lane searched for a way out of the overgrown brush surrounding her.

Where was she? She pressed forward, guessing the direction of escape. What if she was heading back to the river or deeper into the trees? A noise spooked her and she spun around. Her eyes searched the darkness for the source of the sound. A squirrel? A twig snapped and Lane’s gaze swung to the right. Was the man from the bridge following her? You’re being paranoid.

Rain began to penetrate the canopy of branches overhead and run into rivulets, churning the ground into sticky mud. Lane covered her mouth and nose with both hands and backed up, but something grabbed her foot and pitched her backward onto the ground.

Ouch. She scowled at the tangle of thick roots stretching from the massive tree next to her and adjusted the straps of her backpack, thankful she hadn’t landed on it. Trying hard not to breathe in the toxic air, Lane used the tree to steady herself and free her foot but stopped when her hand landed on—a shoe? Lane froze. It was a tennis shoe. Laces untied. Attached to a foot and then a leg and then a body.

“Aghhhh!”