Prologue
Briana Gainsborough
Three days ago
The Navy gave us basic survival training—for water, not while hunted by a forest lunatic.
“This is not right. Not right at all.” Closer now, the killer's raspy voice crackles through the woods.
As a sliver of ice runs down my spine, I cling to the rough trunk of a tall maple. Holding my breath, limbs aching, I dig in my fingertips.
Please, God. I fed starving kids—remember?If He’s there, He gives no sign. Above me, infinite black. Below? Only death.
Bark wedged under my nails, I tuck tighter into the canopy, every nerve vibrating on edge. If he glances up, his rifle won’t miss. While twigs crunch, night critters scatter. He squats directly beneath me, fingers hovering over the footprints I’d brushed clean only moments ago.
Eyes transfixed, I hold my breath as his flashlight’s beam darts across the underbrush. Circling all around, it lands on the pine boughs to my left.
Oh crap.Still muttering, he straightens, scratches his head, then focuses on a noise in the distance.
Yesss. He’s leaving. I made it.My relief is so immense, it sends a signal to my stomach. In the hush of the night, the grumble sounds more like a bullfrog.
Freezing, the mumbler tilts his head upward, his split grin curdling my blood. Slow and deliberate, he lifts his weapon.
Channeling my inner flying squirrel, I launch—legs outstretched, teeth clenched. Either my boots hit their mark, or I die.
Chapter 1
Kade O’Malley
Present day
Black fumes billow into the blue sky as I park next to the town’s only hose truck. Jeff Dolan and Marty Freedman already battle the blaze. It’s the second time the trailer’s caught fire this year.
Jumping from my Ford pickup, I grab my outerwear. Seconds later, a tearful Mrs. Buche clutches my arm.
Tears stream down the grooves in her wrinkled face. “Please, please, Buttons is under the couch. He wouldn’t come out when I called.”
“Okay, Ellen. Hold on.” Hat clamped beneath my chin, I squeeze my walkie-talkie. “Hey guys, her cat’s still inside. Am I clear?”
“Affirmative.” Dolan has to yell to be heard above the water’s loud spray. “Bedroom fire’s almost out. I'd say she bought another cheap electric heater.”
Her weathered hand clasped in mine, I meet her rheumy gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”
"Me-ooooow." Following the sound, I navigate the smoky living room, drop to my stomach, and reach under the sofa. “C’mere, kitty.”
Hissing, bristling, the green-eyed scaredy-cat scoots deeper.
“Sorry, pal.” Back on my feet, I shove the couch away from the wall, snatching him by the scruff as he makes a run for it.
The poor thing squirms and yowls as he digs his nails into my coat. Tucked tight to my chest, I race him outside. There, the elderly matron gathers her feisty feline in her arms.
“You naughty boy. You could’ve been killed.” After pressing her nose to his, she turns to me with a toothless grin. “Thank you so much, Sheriff. Can I go back inside now?”
I hesitate to tell her the truth, “Let’s wait for your daughter. She’ll probably want to take you home. You know how she is.”
Brightening, the ninety-year-old winks, then pulls my earlobe close. “My daughter thinks I’m losing my mind.”
“No kidding.” Saved by my phone’s ring, I step away. “O’Malley here.”
