Like her, he was already winded. “I didn’t…hurt you when I…fed you that…soup…did I?”
Because she’d recovered sufficiently that it would’ve been a little obvious had she died in his care. He wasn’t stupid enough to give himself away. He’d been biding his time, waiting for a safer opportunity.
“Sheridan?”
Her name weighed on her like lead.
“Do I…have to…resort to…other tactics?”
Cain’s cabin was too far away. She wasn’t going to make it.
“Are you…listening? I’ll kill…Cain!” he threatened.
She believed he was capable of it. But at the moment it wasn’t Cain’s life that hung in the balance.
“It’d be…easy. All I’d have to do is…knock…pull out a gun…and shoot.”
Sheridan blanched at the image his threat created. But how did she know Owen wouldn’t do it regardless? He’d proven he had no conscience.
Tears came to her eyes, blurring what she could see of the ground, but she forced herself to keep running. Afraid that leading him to Cain would only get Cain killed, she was heading away from both cabins now, plunging so deep into the forest that the canopy of pine trees towering overhead completely blocked out the moonlight. She could no longer see the obstacles in her path. Branches caught at her clothes and scratched her face, reminding her of the sheer terror she’d faced in this same forest weeks before—terror and pain she’d experienced because of the man chasing her now.
Soon her legs felt so heavy she could barely lift them. She wasn’t going to make it out of here alive. She had to do something else, think of some way to stop him.
Ducking, she grabbed a handful of whatever her hands came up with—dirt and rocks and leaves—and threw it to the left. Then she cut immediately to the right and hunkered down behind the wide base of a tree.
Owen was still coming. She could hear his footsteps drawing closer and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to smother the sound of her own labored breathing.
Please, God. Help me…
He slowed, then stopped. She imagined him listening for her, trying to determine what direction to take. But he didn’t fall for her ruse. He started batting through the trees nearby, feeling his way….
Sheridan was tempted to move. He was too close. Fear insisted he’d find her if she stayed, brought to mind what he’d done to her last time. The club…the digging…the rain…
But as much as she wanted to scramble away, darkness was her only protection. Darkness and silence. She couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound.
“Sheridan…” He tried to regain his breath. “Don’t be stupid. This doesn’t have to be so hard.”
She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip. He was so close. Barely two feet away. Could he see her somehow? It felt like it, even though she couldn’t see him.
“If you don’t come out right now, I’ll have to kill Cain. And I don’t want to do that. Contrary to how the rest of my family feels, I’ve always been fond of him.”
She hunkered lower, praying that something would frighten him away. The movement of an animal, the flashlight of a neighbor. She kept seeing Karen Stevens’s sightless eyes staring up at her.
“Sheridan? Do you want me to shoot him? You’re forcing my hand, I hope you know that.”
Thump, thump, thump… Each heartbeat vibrated through her whole body.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he said and stalked off.
Sheridan waited until she could no longer hear him, then rested her head against the tree as her tears fell. The hoot of an owl sounded somewhere overhead, an eerie call in the darkness, but at least Owen was gone. She was safe as long as she stayed where she was. But it was too easy to imagine what Owen might do to Cain. Cain wouldn’t be expecting it. He’d open the door to his stepbrother and then…
She whimpered at the image of a bullet hitting him the way a bullet had struck Jason. She’d watched Jason die. She couldn’t let Cain die, too, regardless of the risk to herself.
Relinquishing her hiding place, she began limping back as carefully and quietly as possible. If only she could find one of Cain’s neighbors so she could call his house and warn him. But what few neighbors he had up in these mountains were so spread out. She didn’t even know which direction to travel. She was so turned around, so confused….
Help. She had to find help.
But she didn’t get the chance. She’d gone about twenty feet when Owen jumped out of the darkness. He’d been waiting for her all along.
31
John was right—Owen had come to the mountains.
Cain could see the light inside Owen’s truck glowing through the trees as he raced to the old cabin. In the backseat of Sheridan’s rental, his dogs barked and stepped over one another in an attempt to reach the open window, which Cain had lowered to allow for the muzzle of his rifle. They could sense Cain’s nervous energy, his absolute focus and intensity, and were responding to it, shivering and shaking in their eagerness to get out and do their job.
Had Owen already found Sheridan?
Cain knew the answer to that question as soon as he turned into the clearing. Of course he’d found her. The front door of the cabin was wide open.
“Shit!” He threw the car into Park, grabbed his gun and jumped out. He opened the back door so the dogs could scramble out, too, but instead of heading for the cabin or the forest, they immediately surrounded a limp human form that appeared to have fallen from Owen’s truck and barked as if to say they’d found what he wanted.
The metallic taste of fear rose in Cain’s mouth, but as he drew close, he could tell it wasn’t Sheridan. It was Karen. Dead.
“No,” he murmured, but mourning would have to wait. If he hurried, he might be able to get to Sheridan in time. And right now that was all he cared about.
He had his dogs smell Sheridan’s car to pick up her scent, then ordered them to find her. They began to track, going to the cabin first. Cain knew her scent was strong there, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Killers often return to familiar ground. John’s words seemed to reverberate in Cain’s head as he called her name. If only he hadn’t left her; if only he’d stayed here….
But he didn’t have time to berate himself. He had to find her, had to reach her before it was too late.
Charging through the house, he ducked into the woodshed and shone his flashlight down the stairs. But he couldn’t see anything except one of Sheridan’s shoes. He must’ve dropped it when he carried up their clothes.