She didn’t respond to this.
“A can of mace, a shiv, coin knife, zip blade knife. Those are normal self-defense jogging weapons. I’ve been in this business a long time, Sunny Harper, and I’ve never met someone who jogs with a loaded gun—especially not one with that kind of firepower. A 380 is the most common type of concealed carry weapon. Not good enough for you, though. A nine millimeter pistol suggests more thought. More reasons behind the carry.”
“Who says?”
“I say.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Tell me about the attack.”
She squinted, considered, then began.
“I was about a mile in when something caught my eye.”
“Where?”
“In the woods. To my left.”
“What caught your eye?”
“Someone. Movement.”
“So your attacker came out of the woods?”
“Yes.”
“Which direction were you running?”
“South, a mile from the parking lot at the trailhead.”
I made a mental note to check the area at sun up. “Continue.”
“Thanks. I stopped running and that’s when I was attacked.”
“Why’d you stop running?”
“Because I don’t have eyes in the back of my head.”
It made sense, but went against most people’s instinct. If a jogger thought they saw someone lurking in the woods during an after-dark jog, nine out of ten runners would pickup speed and haul ass back to their car. Not this one. This one stood her ground. This one was willing to get into a physical altercation rather than run scared. Sunny was the one percent and I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time she’d been odd man out.
“So you stopped, then what?”
“He jumped out of the woods and attacked me from behind.”
“Did you see his face?”
“No. Not initially. It was dark. He attacked me between light posts. The city needs to put up more lights.”
“Agreed. So you didn’t actually see him jump out of the woods?”
“No.”
“What is your first memory of that moment?”
“That it was a man.”
“You knew your attacker was a male?”
