“No idea, but he could be. Stay sharp.”
Chapter 8
Briana
Last Wednesday
A few fern fronds later, my stomach settles. Thanks to the rain, Mr. Mumble’s treads leave deep grooves in the mud. Do I track where he’s going or where he’s been? As much as I want to turn the tables on my stalker, the man who screamed last night may still be alive.
In stealth mode, I step, listen, step. One careful mile passes after another. The further I go, the harder my heart pounds. I’m about to give up when I slip on a pool of congealed blood. My adrenaline spikes as I reach a mound of freshly disturbed earth.
Holding my breath, I doggy-dig until I uncover a face. “Oh, God. No. No, no…” It can’t be. And yet, it is.Brett, what were you doing on The Long Trail? You hate hiking.
A lump of choked back tears make it hard to swallow as I smooth the dirt back in place. With any luck, I didn’t ruin the crime scene. Enough time has been wasted. I need a lot more forest between me and whoever killed my ex.
Far from the well-marked path, I stop. What if Gollum targets another hiker? Someone less able to defend themselves? As the thought steels my spine, I change directions. Even exhausted, I can lead the killer on a merry chase until people come looking for me.
Unless… What if he pursues the innocent search volunteers? Tugging at future threads, all I see is death. Damn it. Therehasto be a better outcome.
Hunger clouds my judgment. My jacked-up metabolism has eaten the few calories I ingested. Only calm equals survival. I finish my water, then crane my neck up to the clear, blue sky.
I could risk parasites and go back to the stream. Those can be treated, dying of thirst cannot. Decision made, I hike parallel to the primary trail, heading toward the babbling brook.
Snap.A twig cracks behind me. Heart thudding, I drop flat, and crab-crawl to a fallen tree. Rolling underneath a log, I wedge myself deep.
There I stay motionless until the sun goes down.
Chapter 9
Kade
After tracking the smaller boot marks for hours, Becca and I break at a rock outcropping. Reception available, I dial Thomas Griffin.
“O’Malley, what part of wait, did you not understand?”
Payback’s a bitch, dude.Mentally, I flutter my eyelashes and feign my best innocent voice. “What? Didn’t you get my message?”
“Why the fuck did you call the FBI? The body was found inourstate forest. It belongs to us.”
Picturing his ears turning red, I hit mute. A quiet laugh later, I let him have it. “A temporary sheriff’s bound to screw up. In all fairness, I did ping your office. No one answered, so I left a voicemail.”
“Where are you now?” His abrupt bark brings out my inner rebel. No way am I giving him my location.
“Sorry… bad connection. What?” I make him repeat his question twice before responding.
“Huh? Can’t hear you.” This time, I guffaw out loud.
“Any signs of the lost city-slicker?” His shout probably distorts airwaves for miles. If he wasn’t such a jerk, I’d almost feel guilty for messing with him.
“Nope. Nothing so far.” Whistling at Becca, I pick up my sack and start walking again.
“Call me when you get done fooling around.”
The disrespect makes me lose my shit. “You want another tracker? Fine, no problem, because I got temp work piling up in my office.”
“It doesn’t matter. Because of your incompetence, she’s probably dead by now anyway.”
“What? Sorry. Can’t hear you.” I bail before saying something I’ll regret. What an asshole. Arguing with him is a waste of air.
