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Where are you, Zoe?
Mitch closed his eyes, silently praying for guidance.
He took a calming breath and looked around him. If he had been injured, which way would he have gone?
He looked straight ahead.
He’d just run, one foot in front of the other.
He moved forward, listening for a labored breath or a shiver from the cold night—any noise that didn’t belong in the woods.
He swept the beam from side to side as he walked, his heart in his throat, praying with every step she would survive. He had no proof the blood on the floor was hers, but his gut instinct told him it was.
He heard a snap of a branch to his left and Mitch darted toward the closest tree. He turned off his light, listening for a moment. When he heard nothing, he used the tree for cover and shone the light in the direction he’d heard the snap of a twig or branch.
He stilled as two eyes looked back at him, then lunged for him, tackling him to the ground.
“You ruined it!” Peter said as his fist connected with Mitch’s jaw.
Mitch grunted as he brought his knee up. When Peter lost his balance, Mitch landed a fist to his jaw—returning the favor.
Peter was quick to respond. Mitch really wished there was more light so he could see Peter’s blows before they hit him. He knew one thing for sure: he needed to take control of this situation fast.
Mitch grunted as he rolled over, just dodging Peter’s fist. It flew past his face so closely Mitch swore he heard his fist cut through the air.
He struggled to get any advantage he could and wondered how Zoe had managed to get away. He knew she must’ve surprised Peter somehow—or maybe he’d left her unattended for a few minutes.
But Mitch couldn’t think about that when he was right in the middle of a fight he was losing.
He tasted blood as Peter landed another blow to his jaw.
Mitch had had enough of this.
He grunted as he used all his strength to push back and bring a knee up to Peter’s abdomen.
Peter wasn’t expecting it, but Mitch wasn’t expecting his next move either.
Mitch hissed as a knife—he assumed—slashed across his forearm.
Now Mitch was angry.
“Where is she?” he asked as he dodged Peter’s next blow, the flashlight on the ground providing just enough glow at this angle to reveal Peter’s silhouette.
Now Mitch had the advantage, and he blocked Peter’s fist before moving in to disarm him. Mitch landed his fist on Peter’s right shoulder and the knife went flying through the air as he lost control of it.
Mitch moved in, delivering two blows to Peter’s abdomen, and while he was doubled over, Mitch moved fast, putting him in a headlock. Peter didn’t have the advantage of the light and Mitch wasn’t going to give him another chance.
Eventually his body went limp and Mitch lowered him to the ground, cuffed him, and tied him to a tree. He shared his location with Jackson and told him to come pick up Peter once the sniffer dogs were sent out for Zoe.
Mitch wondered if Jonathan was out in the woods too.
A chilling thought occurred to him: maybe Jonathan had taken Zoe somewhere else.
Mitch shook his head. No; he knew Peter’s method now. He killed in one location, an organized setup, then hung the bodies.
The cottage had been the setup as a replacement for Graham’s shed.
Mitch found the backpack on the ground and tore open a bandage, wrapping it around his arm. He didn’t worry about cleaning it or even checking it properly—he just wound the bandage tight and continued on.
