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CHAPTER 34
Run! Run! Run!
Jules ran through the thick drifts of snow.
She felt as if she was being chased, run to the ground, that someone knew.
“That’s crazy,” she whispered to herself, but couldn’t help thinking Taggert or Takasumi or even Lynch might be on her trail.
Did she hear footsteps behind her?
Oh, God, please no!
She propelled herself even faster, her boots slipping, the handle of the carrier cutting through her gloves.
Skirting the pools of light cast by the security lamps, Jules, breathless, hauled the damned firewood carrier down the path as she raced toward Trent’s cabin. Briefly, scared out of her mind, she considered ditching the carrier, but the pages were still too hot to tuck under her jacket and might fly away in the gusting, screaming wind.
So she took a chance, one hand curled in a death grip over the handle, the other stabilizing the top file so that she lost none of the precious, probably damning, pages.
What would they reveal?
What secrets did they hold that the director of the school had tried to destroy them?
Keep moving! Don’t think about it.
At every corner, she tensed, certain someone would leap out from behind a snow-covered hedge or up from beneath a bench where a deranged killer lay in wait. Or she would be accosted by one of the teams of security guards roving the grounds.
Gun-shy after being confronted with Takasumi and Taggert, she was doubly careful as she threaded her way through the trees.
Even so, she still felt as if someone was watching her, following her. Biting her lip, not giving in to the fear, she kept running and prayed that the harsh curtain of snow falling steadily from the heavens would conceal her.
Crunch!
Oh, God, she was certain she heard footsteps.
She ran faster, plowing through the snow.
If she could just get to Trent.
She would be safe.
Right?
Crunch. Crunch.
Oh, dear God …
She flew by a thicket of pine trees and her heart raced ever faster as she thought about the murders. Why would anyone kill Nona and Drew?
Because of what they knew.
And maybe what you ‘re carrying in these files might shed some light on the killer’s motive. Keep running! For God’s sake, keep running!
Her lungs burned, arctic cold searing her airways. What if the files told her nothing? What if Nona and Drew had been killed for revenge? It was possible. Drew could have thrown someone over to be with Nona. The jilted girlfriend, a troubled teen who had a history of violence, could have snapped. Or had Nona Vickers really pissed someone off? Had they both been targets, or had one gotten in the way of the other, been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Nona’s body had been obviously staged to gain attention. Drew’s had been almost tossed aside. Except for that small, smeared bloodstain away from the pool from his head wound. Something about that tiny puddle, smeared as it was, bothered her.
Don’t go there! Don’t even think about it. Just run as you’ve never run before. Maybe the files will have the answer.
