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I love this town right now, because they’re so fucking predictable.
Cars zoom by us, getting out of here as fast as they can.
The second string of letters form more words in the fire, and Jake zooms in, broadcasting it flawlessly.
And we’re taking everyone with us back to the grave.
“Phase three,” I say, backing behind a tree as a deputy races by on foot, trying to stop a fight that has broken out in the street.
The stubborn fools who don’t want to leave may change their minds now.
The mirrors Jake stole on night one are suddenly launched from the ground where they’ve been hiding, the soil blanket being pulled back by another of Jake’s genius inventions. After all, he’s been planning each detail of this day for years.
People shriek in horror as the mirrors line up, all the varieties of them shining the reflections of the monsters hiding beneath their own flesh. Then the mirrors explode, slinging glass everywhere.
The shards get cut down so small that they merely slice a few flesh wounds. Don’t worry; no children are harmed in this act. We’re more
careful than that.
One woman screams as the small cuts on her face starts to bleed, and she touches them with shaking hands, going into shock.
Weak.
Pathetic.
All of them.
But that’s what tips the scales. More and more heat signatures start disappearing or moving down the road too fast to be on foot. They’re retreating.
“I’ll handle phase four in fifteen minutes. That should be enough time for the retreaters to run,” Jake says as I unstrap the harness I’m wearing.
“Make sure you completely get everyone out,” I tell him distractedly.
“I will, Lana. Trust me.”
I smile as I push the harness to his chest. “I do trust you. With my life. Now I need to go get ready for phase five.”
He glances over at all the chaos, then he flicks his screen to the sheriff who has his hat off, running a hand over his salt and pepper hair in defeat. “You shouldn’t have to wait too long.”
Chapter 12
‘Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall.
—William Shakespeare
LOGAN
“They have the evidence. There’s a fucking video of what they did to Robert Evans, for fuck’s sake! And you’re still holding me here? On what grounds?” I snap, glaring at Collins and Director McEvoy.
“On the grounds you aided a possible murder suspect in fleeing a town the same night her husband was killed, along with two men inside her home.”
“Cheyenne Murdock feared for her life, and she was not a suspect. She was attacked in her home, and our unsub saved her life.”
McEvoy points a finger at me. “And that mentality is why you’re here. You don’t get to assume she’s innocent because she says she is. Especially after you swore to your team the unsub was a female. Your entire profile for this case is all over the map, and it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. Then you just release a woman after two men are slaughtered in her living room with a skill far too advanced to ignore?”
“Two hit men,” I growl.
“Speculation,” McEvoy growls back.
