That’s when he saw it again.
Not twenty feet away, between the twisted trunks of the pines.
The Reaper. Just a suggestion of a figure, its outline shimmering with the kind of darkness that had weight. Solid enough to be real, but wrong in the way it moved. The way it waited.
He blinked, and it was gone.
His hands fisted in the mud, fingers clenching tight enough to make his knuckles ache. Another hallucination. Had to be. Maybe the crash had cracked something in his head. Maybe the blood dripping from his nose wasn’t the worst of it.
But that didn’t explain the certainty crawling along his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck. He’d lived a bad life. Made decisions with the kind of casual cruelty that had come so easy, back when strength meant something different.
No apologies. No atonement. Just violence and vengeance.
And now, this.
He forced himself upright, his legs threatening to buckle. The pain was relentless, his vision a blur of shapes and shadows. But he kept moving. Because if he stopped, whatever lurked between the trees would catch him.
He was sure of that, even if he couldn’t explain why.
Another step. Then another. The ache in his chest sharpened with every breath.
The ground dipped, slick earth stealing his balance. He slid down a short slope, his shoulder smashing against something solid. Bark tore at his skin, and his fresh blood mingled with the rain.
The Reaper waited at the bottom of the hill. Watching.
Mark let out a shuddering breath, the sound raw and broken. “Get the hell away from me.” His voice was shredded, rasping through the rain. The apparition didn’t answer and just stood there, a shadow with eyes he couldn’t quite see.
He blinked again. Gone.
His head swam, pain twisting through his skull like hot wire. His body felt too heavy, his limbs leaden and cold.
But he kept moving. Because something was out there, stalking him with the kind of patience that suggested it had been waiting for a long, long time.
Regret boiled up again, bitter and sharp. Maybe it wasn’t just the Reaper. Maybe it was every damn thing he’d left undone, every grudge and grift he’d run from. Maybe he’d spent so long escaping that he’d finally run himself down.
He wiped blood from his face, his fingers trembling. The darkness thickened, swallowing the world until nothing was left but pain and rain and the certainty that something was closing in.
He took another step.
And then another.
Because death wasn’t going to take him without a fight. Yet as he fell between a couple of thick trees, unable to move, a hysterical humor took him. It wasn’t the first fight he’d lost . . . but apparently it would be the last.
In her conference room, Laurel finished straightening the pictures and connected lines on the case board. So far, she had Dr. Miriam Liu, Larry Scott, and Melissa Palmtree from Oakridge Solutions on one board with Dr. Liu connected to Tyler Griggs because of the lesions on their brains. Off to the side, she taped a picture of Dr. Sandoval, even though he’d been killed by the sniper. She’d obtained a picture of Dr. Bertra Yannish from social media and taped her picture up as well. Perhaps she’d earned a promotion from the death of Dr. Liu.
The next board showed Laurel’s face with sniper eyelines, a description of the truck, and a list of former cases she needed to examine closer.
The final board had Abigail’s case on it, usually flipped over so Norrs couldn’t see it.
Laurel sat on the Formica table and stared at the Oakridge Solutions board. “Nester? Have you found out anything about Melissa Palmtree?” Hopefully she hadn’t been cremated like Larry Scott had. Not that Laurel had any proof their deaths were related to Dr. Liu’s.
“Yeah. She was buried outside of Bellevue.” Nester crossed into view, leaning against the doorjamb. Today he wore black slacks and a white button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing dark and muscled forearms.
Laurel blew out air. “Start an application to have her body exhumed, would you? It’s a long shot, I know. I’ll create my own affidavit, but we’ll need one from Dr. Ortega as well. Thanks.”
“Sure.” Nester turned and headed back to his computer room.
Kate called down the hallway. “Sandra Plankton is here to see you.” She led the way down the hallway and gestured the young woman into the conference room.
