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fights. “Gotta go, Nana. See you in a bit.”
    “Be careful out there, it’s raining and too dark to run.” Nana scowled. “Do you really think you should run alone in a town where people are savagely murdered?”
    I clung to my shoelaces. Why did she have to say it like that? The murder last weekend was an isolated incident. Our town was safe. I carefully looped my laces, avoiding Nana’s all-seeing glare. Just because I’d been the one to find the body didn’t mean I needed to turn into a scaredy-girl who stayed in bed all day. Though bed sounded tempting, if the horrific nightmares would stopthe faceless man, my parent’s bodies, and Panetti all rotated through my dreams.
    The phone rang. Nana flinched and grabbed the cordless.   She turned from me and sheltered her mouth and the receiver with her hand. “About time you called. I hate getting up this early. Yes, Cassidy is fine.” Nana rushed from the room with the cordless phone.
    I couldn’t hear anything else she said. It seemed she expected that call, but who would be asking about me at five-thirty in the morning? Nana’s sister maybe?
    The mysterious phone call gave me a chance to get out without a fight and I took it. I finished tying my laces, plunked a baseball cap over my mass of hair, and slipped out the back door.
    Forcing myself past my Nissan Altima, I walked for a few minutes to warm-up before lifting my legs into a jog. It was dark, wet, and cold on the desolate street. Maybe that was why my legs didn’t want to move and each step hurt worse than the last. I made it four blocks before changing my plan. I’d walk the rest of the way to the gym, lift on lower body, and get really warm. Then surely I’d be ready to run home. Maybe I’d even take the long route.
    An hour later, I admitted defeat. I didn’t take the long route. I half-walked, half-jogged the mile home from the gym as rain pinged against my face and my legs throbbed. 26.2 miles? I needed another Valium.
    A few blocks from home, I saw him . Damon. Running through the very intersection I was approaching. His long legs chewed up the distance.
    He passed under the streetlight. I stopped and squinted through the moisture. It was definitely Damon. All I got was a luscious profile. It was enough. He wore a navy blue shirt and gray shorts. I could imagine how that shirt matched his eyes. I could see the sinewy muscles in his biceps as his arms pumped. Ooh, baby. I wanted to race after him and demand he call me. After all, it had been two very long days since we met.
    My legs were too weary to take up pursuit. Within seconds, I could only see a shadow and then that was stolen from my sight by a two-story house. I forced my legs into motion again, dragging myself towards home.
    A smaller figure raced after Damon. I squinted. The runner strode under the streetlight. It was . . . oh, no. Hot Redhead in hot pursuit. The woman who’d tried to buy my marathon entry chased the man we both salivated over. Her entire body was focused on the route Damon had taken. She wouldn’t have noticed me if I was Daniel Craig. Hot Redhead disappeared from my view.
    Pounding footsteps echoed from the road behind me. I jumped and swiveled to see who was coming. Maybe Damon had circled around and I would get to see him. Hidden in the darkness between street lamps, all I could tell was the figure was almost as tall as Damon but thicker. The man was catching up to me, fast.
    I wished the clouds and sheet of water would part so I could feel more secure. That eerie sensation of being alone on a semi-dark street with a man pursuing didn’t sit well, especially after my Saturday morning fright. My skin prickled. There was something creepy about those footsteps and that shape. I took off at a serious run. I was only a block and a half from home. Surely the man meant me no harm, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
    I ran the next block faster than my finishing sprint at the race last weekend. The footsteps behind me