Continuing, I take in my surroundings. At first, I think I’m in the middle of nowhere, hopelessly surrounded by dense forest, which means my chances of getting help are low. But then I peer through some of the trees, spotting a wooden cabin about forty yards away.
Instinctively, I know it’s his house.
To my horror, the side door opens and my stalker steps out onto a small porch. He’s holding a tray with what appears to be some food and a bottle of water on it. His gaze is down as he navigates the three steps, but when his foot hits the ground, he looks up.
His eyes lock with mine. First, they widen in shock and then incredible anger as he realizes his captive has gotten loose.
The man doesn’t hesitate. He drops the tray, bolting straight toward me.
Every survival instinct within me kicks in. I turn and run as well. Straight into the deep forest without looking back. I ignore the stabbing jabs of pain in my feet as rocks cut into me, and I don’t let branches smacking me in the face slow me down. I grip onto the Taser as hard as I can, and I push my way deeper into the gloom created by a thick canopy above.
I run for what seems like forever, not daring to glance back even once. It will only slow me down. I need to run hard and fast for as long as I can. Try to put distance between us.
My ears strain to hear something that will let me know how close he is, but my own huffing, gasping breaths and the crunch of foliage drowns everything out.
After what feels like miles but was probably only a football field or two in length, I spot a boulder up ahead. I run straight at it. When I reach its edge, I come to a sliding halt. Turning quickly, I brace to meet my attacker head-on in case he is on my heels. I hold the Taser out in front of me, ready to pull the trigger, but I don’t see him anywhere. I’m gasping harshly, my lungs completely depleted as I wait for him to rush me.
There’s nothing.
But that doesn’t mean I’m safe. Turning, I make my way past the boulder. I start running again, trying to put more distance between me and the crazy man who wants to kill me.CHAPTER 29KynanWhen my vehicle gets close to Joslyn’s signal on the map, I stop on the side of a dirt road a good two hundred yards away. I don’t want the sound of my engine alerting anyone of my approach. It takes me only moments to make sure I’m fully locked and loaded. Pistol in a shoulder holster, along with one on my ankle. Hunting knife strapped to my hip in a sheath.
I make a quick call to Cruce and Saint on the connected conference line to let them know I’ve arrived. The exact address of Joslyn’s stalker is no longer a secret, and the police are headed here as well. When I was only a few miles out from Joslyn’s signal, Bebe had called us to let us know she had identified the man.
Using a quick program she had coded to run the partial license plate Cruce had gotten, along with the make and model of the vehicle, she cross-referenced that information with the geo-tracking signal from Joslyn’s earrings. It came up with an address to a Scott Carlisle.
Age thirty-two, single, and a software developer in Silicon Valley. He also owned a cabin on the border of the Santa Ynez Mountains, which he purchased about thirty days after Joslyn moved into her new home in Santa Barbara.
He had clearly been planning the abduction for a while. Knowing he had just purchased this property before breaking into her home, I have to deduce he was not attempting to kill her then but only trying to subdue her. That this man had plans for Joslyn sickens me deep in my gut. I don’t think I can bear to even try to comprehend.
As it stands, I plan on murdering him quickly rather than slowly. I don’t want anything to change that.
Cruce and Saint are less than seven miles away, but I’m not going to wait. Even if this fucker has no intention of killing Joslyn right away, he could be hurting her as we speak.
I grab my phone, the red blinking circle my only focus as I decide to approach from the east rather than coming straight up his driveway. With that in mind, I plunge into the woods and start making my way toward the small, twelve-hundred-foot cabin that sits deep in the woods. Bebe had sent me Google satellite photos of the place. She was also able to hack into his credit cards, revealing he’d purchased a large metal shipping container that was delivered just two days before he broke into her house.