Roy stepped in immediately, putting himself between the two women. “Dana, that’s enough. We’re done here.”
Dana’s expression changed. The polite concern drained away, replaced by something dark and brittle.
The click cut through the moment.
Metal. Small. Final.
Roy’s eyes snapped to Dana’s hand.
“Mia,” he said sharply. “Run.”
The word hadn’t even finished leaving his mouth when the shot went off.
The sound cracked across the open water.
Roy jerked, shock etched across his face. He looked at Mia once, as if he was trying to apologize, then he staggered back like he’d been shoved and went down hard on the gravel.
Mia screamed.
Dana didn’t even glance at Roy. She moved straight to Mia, with the gun aimed toward her, breath quick.
Mia turned to run but Dana was already there, shoving her toward the concrete structure. With one hand, she opened the door.
“Move,” Dana said. “Now.”
Mia fought, clawing at the metal edge, but Dana drove her forward with ruthless strength. She stumbled, lost her footing and fell inside.
The door slammed shut.
The lock snapped into place.
Mia’s scream echoed only in her ears.
CHAPTER 43
Dana stood very still,listening.
Water lapped somewhere beyond the trees. Laughter and music drifted from the Rusty Anchor. The forest had settled back in—crickets, frogs, the soft rustle of leaves. And nothing from the locker.
Good.
She retrieved a cloth from her car and wiped the locker door where her hand had been. Once. Twice. She exhaled, then scanned the ground for the spent shell casing. When she spotted it near the edge of the gravel, she slipped it into her pocket.
Then she turned back toward Roy.
She didn’t rush. There was no reason to.
He lay on his back, one arm bent awkwardly beneath him, eyes open but unfocused, surprise frozen on his face. Blood had soaked into the gravel, darkening it.
She sighed.
“You shouldn’t have tried to save her,” she said softly.
There was no response.
She scanned the lot once more. Still empty.
She searched through his pockets and removed his keys. Then, with a quietoof, dragged him by the shoulders. His bootsscraped against the gravel, the sound harsh in the open space. It was harder than she’d expected. He was heavier than he looked. Deadweight in every sense of the word.
