Another shadow darted behind the window. Something was in there. Heart hammering, I moved closer to the cabin to get a better look. I stepped on the first porch step, and the rotten wood creaked beneath my feet. I peered at the broken window again. Something—or someone—was in there.
I hesitated.
“Jude!” Louder this time. More annoyed. A current of unease in my voice. Why wasn’t he answering me?
I took another step forward, up the second step. Another quick dart of movement. I hadn’t imagined it.
I held my breath. I grabbed the rusted handle of the doorknob. Now or never…
A crow flew out of the broken window, straight at me.
I sprang back, hands up in a defensive position, and stumbled backward off the porch, half-falling down the porch steps. My arms wheeled as I struggled to regain my balance.
Too late, I heard the crunch of a single footstep in the fallen leaves behind me. That’s when I bumped into a solid wall of flesh. A pair of strong arms reached out and snatched me.
I didn’t even have time to scream.
Ten
The Canceled Killer became so popular that people started suggesting other jerks that the killer could target. #YouShould
BeNext began trending on all platforms.
—Crime Hivepodcast
The hands clutched me, and my hit-fast-hit-hard-run Krav Maga training kicked in instinctively. I lashed out with a short chop to the man’s Adam’s apple, giving it a nice whack with the meaty part of my hand between the thumb and pointer finger. The force of the blow sent him reeling back and coughing. I was about to run when I realized I’d just throat-punched Oscar’s best friend.
“Jude!” I cried, appalled. “Why did you sneak up on me?”
Jude made a choking sound, and bent over, one hand on his knee and the other massaging his throat. I’d gotten him good. Jude still couldn’t talk as he wheezed between coughs, looking like a wounded puppy. He telegraphed hurt with his eyes. I felt horrible. Like I’d kicked a kitten. Jude was defenseless, and I knew it. I was pretty sure a toddler could wrestle him to the ground, mostly because he’d never fight back.
“Yougrabbed me,” I pointed out.
“You… called… me.” He coughed, his voice an alarmingly hoarse whisper. “You… falling…” Jude hacked. “I… help,” he finished.
Now I felt terrible. He was just trying to steady me, and I nearly knocked the guy’s Adam’s apple into his skull. He shook his head and rubbed his neck some more.
“Going… to… leave a mark,” he grumbled as his voice slowly returned to normal, except he did kind of sound like a ninety-year-old pack-a-day smoker. “See anything?” He offered his throat for my inspection.
“No,” I lied. There was a red mark slashed across the umber skin of his neck. Poor guy. It might even bruise.
“Ack.” He coughed again, rubbing his neck some more. “I think… you… bruised my trachea.”
“I’m sorry!” I cried again. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”
“I didn’t sneak!” he protested. “You called me! And… the leaves!” He stomped his feet on the large trail of brown and gold fallen leaves near the fire pit, which did, in fact, make a pretty loud crunching sound. Fear had muted my hearing, clearly.
“I’m sorry, Jude. I am. Really.”
Jude sent me a baleful look as he held his Adam’s apple.
“I really feel bad.” I flashed him an apologetic smile. “Want to do it to me?” I offered him the soft spot of my own throat.
“Tempting,” Jude said, but shook his head.
“What did you find back there?”
“Just a bunch of poison ivy,” he deadpanned. “And an actually pretty nice house back there.”
