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he grass on the outside of the path, closest to the road they came in on. If the killer spotted her, the cops might not have the chance to catch him again, and she refused to be the reason why he got away.

When Cassie reached the edge of the trees, she pulled her phone out. She had run about a mile, and her extra ten minutes were up. She had more texts and missed calls from David, but she didn’t bother reading any of them.

Two figures entering the woods, Cassie typed out. Send help.

Doubt entered her mind as soon as she hit send, but logic battled with anxiety and won out. At this point, the chances were low that this wasn’t the killer with the medical van dragging a woman into the woods in the dead of night. Everything was right in front of her.

She had to figure out how to stall him until the cops arrived.

Cassie tucked her phone back in her pocket before David could respond. She took a deep breath and ventured into the trees, grateful that she had worn her flats to work today instead of heels.

The canopy offered by the trees darkened the woods much more than the open air, but her eyes adjusted in a few seconds. Pulling her phone out to use the flashlight would have been an idiotic move, so she moved through the forest as quickly and quietly as she could, despite the brambles digging into her legs.

The voices carried by the wind earlier were louder and Cassie could hear movement ahead. She slowed down and readjusted her trajectory, though it was hard to get a precise direction amidst the trees.

A few minutes later, a light switched on to her right and Cassie froze. It was far enough away that she didn’t worry about being noticed, but when it swept toward her, she ducked behind a tree, just in case. The noise she made could be construed as that of an animal, but she doubted she would be mistaken for a deer if the light landed on her.

Once the beam turned in the other direction, Cassie took the opportunity to sprint from tree to tree, keeping a wide berth but circling in closer. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage like a sledgehammer against sand and she was terrified that he would be able to hear it.

When the flashlight stopped moving, so did Cassie. She took a few deep breaths and knelt, searching with her hands until she found a branch thick enough to do some real damage.

When the voice spoke again, Cassie realized she was much closer than she anticipated. It was the girl who sounded confused and exhausted.

“Where are we?” She sounded like she had been crying.

“I told you,” the man said, his voice calm, “we’re going to have a campfire.”

“I don’t want to have a campfire,” the girl said.

“You don’t want to make some s’mores?”

“No.” The girl was crying. “I want to go home. Please. I’m tired.”

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “It’ll be over soon.”

Twenty-Six

“Where are we?” the girl asked again.

“You wanted a campfire, remember?”

The man’s voice was gentle and coaxing, but Cassie was starting to pick up on some anxiety, too. It was masked well, but something was off. Was he worried about being caught? Could serial killers feel remorse?

“I don’t feel good.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m a doctor,” the man replied. “Come on, I’ll give you a checkup. Won’t that be fun?”

Instead of answering, the woman threw up. Cassie took advantage of the distraction to move closer, praying that the crunch of leaves underfoot wouldn’t give her away. She was still several feet away, but she could at least see the two people in front of her. She caught a glimpse of them and ducked behind a tree. The man was tall and trim with broad shoulders and muscled arms. He was the man from her vision. The woman was short with bright pink hair. She was dressed like she had been out partying. She looked strange against the backdrop of the forest.

“It’s so dark out here,” she said.

“I’ll light the fire soon. Why don’t you sit down?”

“I don’t want to get dirty,” the girl complained, but Cassie heard rustling leaves and assumed the girl sat down anyway.

Cassie gripped the branch harder. Her hands were starting to ache. Her legs were bleeding. Her pants had ripped half a dozen times. She was aware of these sensations, but they registered in the deepest part of her mind.

Nothing mattered except what was right in front of her.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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