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CHAPTER THIRTY
Lyla
We had a foolproof plan to catch the creep, or so we thought.
Everything was going great.
I slipped out of the back of the house right after Bear’s motorcycle left the driveway.
I walked slowly, quietly, to the woods without using a flashlight to climb onto the waiting four-wheeler with RJ.
He cranked it up but left the lights off as we took off.
That’s where everything went to shit.
We made it only a few yards before I heard the popping sound of a gun from my nightmares. The four-wheeler stopped, RJ cursed and yanked me off, and then we started running.
I ran faster than I ever had in my life because I knew he was behind us, that he could shoot RJ if we didn’t get to the clearing at the motel where backup would be waiting.
There was no time to send a message on my phone or call for help.
All we could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other as fast as possible.
“He’s catching up,” RJ whispers to me when he grabs my arm to try and hurry me up.
And then suddenly, he’s no longer there.
It’s like déjà vu. The nauseating, choking kind that feels almost like a heart attack.
I turn around and find him facedown on the ground. The man in the hoodie is standing over him. He pulls out a gun and points it at RJ.
“Don’t! Don’t hurt him!” I scream. I struggle to catch my breath, telling him, “You’re after me, right? Here…here I am.”
He doesn’t move for a second, and I have no idea what he did to RJ, who still isn’t moving. I don’t remember hearing any more gunshots, so hopefully, he didn’t shoot him.
Suddenly, a blinding light appears, making me cringe away.
“You look just like your mother.”
What did he say? If I can keep him talking, maybe it’ll give someone time to find us. God, I wish Bear was here.
“You…you knew my mother?” I ask.
“Your father didn’t deserve her. He’s the reason she’s dead.”
“H-how do you know that?”
“She wrote me a letter, telling me she forgave me, but your father couldn’t. That’s why she had to take her life; she couldn’t stand to be near him. But she promised me that he would take care of you for me.”
“What? My mom died in a bar fight.”
“That’s another lie he’s told you,” he says. “Isaac probably blames me, but it’s his fault she didn’t want to live.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain everything to you. We have all the time in the world to catch up.”
“Why? What do you want with me?”
