That’s right, Detective, I’m coming. Spurred onward, Regan headed straight for the huge expanse of even landscape, sunlight glancing off spots where ice still showed through the white blanket. It was her only chance for salvation. She cast another quick look behind her. God, he was so close. Maybe only fifteen or twenty yards!
He was smiling, but then, as if he suddenly understood her intention, shook his head. “Stop! You stupid—”
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Lisa Jackson
She didn’t wait to hear the rest of his oath. Over the pounding of her heart, the pulse throbbing in her brain, his voice faded. Despite the pain searing through her body she ran onward. Hard. Plowing a trail that he could follow straight at the lake. Her feet slid a little as she hit the ice, the snow slipping over the frozen water.
“No!” Hicks’s voice boomed across the wide expanse, and she just kept running, feeling nothing but solid ice beneath her, heading to the middle of the expansive lake. Cougar Basin, she thought as she spied Mesa Rock rising nearby. That’s where she was.
If there were only some way to call someone. Tell them. But she was all alone. No one in sight, only her own ragged breathing making a sound. I should have brought a gun.
The rifle or her damned pistol!
But in my hurry of unloading the truck, in my panic to chase her down, I left the weapons in the truck and grabbed the rope. I didn’t want to use the guns, thought the crack of gunshot so close to my own home might attract attention I couldn’t afford. And I didn’t want to shoot her. What would be the fun of that—a distant taking of life? If a quick killing were what I needed, then I would have shot all the women in their cars, just taken them out as they were driving, then carrying them back to my place to nurture them, heal them, bring them to the brink of falling in love with me . . . So I didn’t bring a gun, not even to intimidate her, as I knew it wouldn’t. And the damned truth of
CHOSEN TO DIE
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the matter is I thought catching her would be far easier than it has proved to be.
Now she’s running onto the lake! God knows part of it is frozen solid, and even in the middle there has to be several inches of ice, but still, it’s dangerous.
“Stop,” I command again and the idiot just keeps on running, slipping and sliding through the pristine layer of snow covering the icy surface. I follow. It’s solid under my feet. Nothing shifting. It’s probably safe. Probably.
And I’ll catch her.
But I have to be cautious. Listen for that cracking that spells death.
“There’s nowhere to go,” I yell, but she doesn’t even break stride. I should have known she would be more trouble than I thought. Damn it, why have I underestimated her?
Fury burns through me.
It’s time to end it. Now.
To hell with caution. I take off and run as if the hounds of hell are at my heels.
Santana drove as close as he dared to the house where Billy Hicks lived. The old cabin, over a hundred years old, had been built near the mine, in a clearing rimmed by trees. He parked behind a stand of pine, then, with an eye on the cabin, crept through the woods in its direction.
Nothing moved around the old house.
And no one showed in the dark windows.
A ruse?
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Lisa Jackson
He watched, mindfully aware of the seconds elapsing, spurred by the knowledge that Regan was somewhere nearby. But the house remained dark inside, no smoke curling from the chimney. It looked abandoned. And there were tracks in the snow. Someone had recently been walking around outside, someone with a smaller shoe size than a six-foot-four man. Regan?
His heart leaped.
He felt a sizzle of anticipation.
Had she escaped?