Going back the way I came is not an option, so I continue forward, hoping to stumble onto a road or a ranger station. Something. Someone who can help me.
The mud catches my shoe, and I fall forward, barely managing to catch myself with my good arm. Kneeling in the mud, I rip the gag free from my mouth.
Another gunshot echoes somewhere behind me.
“God, please,” I whisper in the storm as I kneel in the mud, body trembling, exhaustion plaguing my bones. Reaching across with my good arm, I gently touch the area of my shoulder that burns.
My fingers come back with blood.
It washes away in the rain.
Get up! The words are deafening in my mind.
Strength pulses through me, and I push to my feet, running as fast as I can, this time with only one shoe. I change directions, hoping to throw Anderson off my trail as I push through thick brush. Something scrapes my cheek, but the pain is a drop in the bucket that is the current agony in my arm.
And I know that, once the adrenaline wears off, it’ll be so much worse.
Ahead, I see a thick grouping of trees. Out of breath, I race toward them, then look for somewhere to hide. A hollowed-out trunk lies on its side, so I crawl on my hands and knees, barely managing to sneak inside before Anderson rushes past me.
I hold my breath when he pauses feet from me, then turns in a slow circle.
“I’m going to find you!” he yells.
Blood drips from a cut in his forehead, and when lightning illuminates the sky, I see that his eyes are wild, his expression murderous.
He won’t hesitate when he finds me.
Whatever he had planned is done now.
Because the moment Anderson has me in his sights, I’m dead.
24.Shawn
“What do you mean hewalkedout of here with her?” I demand, fury radiating through my body. Beckett is gone.
And no one knows where she is.
“He said that you were worried about her safety,” the uniform who’d been standing at her door claims. He’s sitting across from me and Reid in the interrogation room of my precinct.
My captain is just outside, doing what he can to try to track down Anderson.
After a call from Reid, the DEA raided Seymore’s house and found he’d vacated—in a hurry.
Every travel agency in the area is on high alert, and currently, Reid’s team is raiding the District 1 WSP office looking for any signs of anyone else involved.
They’re doing everything they can…but it’s not enough.
Officer Hasting appears to be genuinely distressed, and logically, I don’t think he knew anything was off, but right now, I want to tear him apart.
I shove up from the chair, and it flings backward, the metal frame banging against the floor. “If I had been worried, do you really think I would have left her there?” I snarl.
“Look, I’m sorry about Ms. Wallace, but I didn’t know?—”
“Don’t hand me that!” I bellow.
Reid stands and puts his hand on my arm. “Take a breather,” he says. “I’ve got this.”
I want to refuse. Want to demand that I stay here until we have answers, but I’m a distraction right now.
