Well, not until I reach the end.
There, blocking my path is a sheriff’s vehicle.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The deputy walks up to my window, and motions for me to lower the window. “What are you doing?” he asks the moment I give him an inch of clearance.
“I have to watch my cousin’s daughter. I’m babysitting while she works. You can search my car or whatever.” I make it a point to sound annoyed.
He walks down the side of my Pathfinder, peering in through the windows. Obviously, there’s nothing there to find. Noah isn’t there, unfortunately.
“Go ahead,” he barks at me, waving me onward and then turning back to look at the main search party near the house.
I smash the gas, and careen forward. Red and blue lights slice the trees behind me one last time. I force the SUV down the mess of a road. Gravel crunches, and it feels like it takes forever to make it to the overgrown side road, leading to the old dock.
Please be alive. Please give me a chance. Please.
22
NOAH
If there’sone thing I’ve decided about this whole fucking mess, it’s that I am not going to go back to prison without a fight. I’d rather die falling from this goddamn bluff.
But the moment I crest the point I shoved the man in camo off…
I see the boats and flashlights.
Fuck. Fuck!
They’re farther out than I expected, anchored low and quiet in the water, but there’s no mistaking the shape of them. I highly doubt they’re just a couple of midnight fishermen.
My heart jumps as I drop down immediately, flattening myself against the dirt as if the ground might swallow me whole. My chest heaves, lungs screaming, every breath loud in my ears, as I move to the cover of the trees.
Don’t panic,I instruct myself.There’s gotta be a way out of here.
The woods stretch behind me—dense, tangled, and unforgiving—but they’re home. I know these trees. I know which slopes turn slick with moss, which paths look solid until theygive way beneath your weight, and I know where the Marshals intheorywould set up.
I can do this.Or at least try.
A shout carries faintly over the water. Radios crackle from down below. Somewhere far off, a dog barks…from the opposite direction.
I’m surrounded.
I push to my feet and start moving, staying low, cutting sideways instead of straight back. I can’t head back toward the Iverson’s. I’m sure they have someone at my old house, too. There’s only one trails theymightnot be on yet.
The dock. I need to go to the dock.
I keep my breaths steady as I ease along the outer line of the trees. The bluff looms to my left, a sheer drop down toward the lake, the water below black and bottomless. One wrong step and I’m gone.
That wouldn’t be the worst way to go. But I’d take a bullet over drowning, I think.
Branches rake across my arms and face as I duck through undergrowth, thorns tearing at my clothes. Pain registers dimly, like it’s happening to someone else. Adrenaline has my body locked in survival mode, and I push myself through it, knowing once I hit the docks, I’ll have to hope for a fucking miracle.
I slide down a narrow slope toward the final stretch of trail that leads to the shore, my boots skidding and hands scrambling for purchase. Dirt collapses beneath me, sending a cascade of pebbles tumbling toward the edge.
I freeze.Oh shit. Shit.
Every muscle locks as I listen. For a second, there’s nothing but wind and the slow lap of water below, but then…
