Page 69 of Girl, Bound

A body bag.

Ella's blood turned toice water in her veins. Her foot crashed down on the brake pedal, sending thecar skidding to a halt in a storm of dust and flying pebbles. She was out in aflash, stumbling as her legs threatened to give way, the world tilting wildlyaround her.

It couldn't be. Theycouldn't be too late. Not again, dear God, please not again.

She closed thedistance in a drunken lurch, her steps as heavy as cinder blocks. Her handshook as she reached for the zipper, the metal teeth gleaming like a shark'sgrin in the sputtering flashlight beam.

But before she couldpull it open, Holbrook screamed.

‘Over there!’

Ella glanced up,followed Holbrook’s line of sight.

A figure. Clad inblack, facemask across his mouth. He was hovering on the edge of the woods.

It was him.

Ella recognized thatoutline, that wiry frame, that mop of hair.

Adam Draven.

‘Freeze!’ Ripleyshouted, but Draven was gone.

Ripley pulled out herpistol, glanced quickly to Ella. ‘I’m going after him. Stay here, Dark.’

Ella watched herpartner disappear into the woods, and then Ella turned her attention back tothe body in her arms.

She had a promise tokeep to a little boy.

One hard yank. A raspof metal on metal.

The body insiderevealed itself.

‘Oh, God…’

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Ripley crashed throughthe underbrush like a wounded bull. Low branches whipped at her face like theflails of a hydra, leaving stinging welts in their wake. But she barely feltit, barely registered the hot trickle of blood oozing into her eyes. All herfocus, all her burning rage, was fixed on the fleeing back of Adam Draven.

He darted ahead ofher, a shadow among shadows, his wiry frame slipping through the grasping treeslike smoke. But Ripley was a heat-seeking missile locked on target. Her lungsseared, her thighs screamed, but she pushed on, vaulting fallen logs and tearingthrough snarls of brambles like they were cobwebs.

Behind her, Holbrook'sbellows faded to a distant echo, swallowed by the hungry dark. Part of herscreamed to loop back, to close ranks and take this psycho as a team. But theother part, the snarling beast that hungered for blood, knew she couldn't stop.Couldn't let this chance slip through her fingers.

She'd bled for thiscase, given more than sweat to see it through. No way in hell was she going tolet this guy pull a Houdini when he was close enough to taste.

Ripley caught a flashof movement off to her left, the spin of a heel vanishing behind a screen ofleaves. She pivoted hard, momentum sending her careening into the loamy muck ofa half-hidden marsh. Her boots sank to the ankles, cold mire flooding in tosoak her socks. She swore sulfurously, nearly landing on her backside as shefought to wrench herself free.

But Draven was stillout there, still running, and no mud puddle was going to make her lose thescent. Ripley struggled on, calf muscles burning like acid.

She caught anotherglimpse of him, ducking low under a fallen tree, that damn side pouch bumpingagainst his hip. For a split second, Ripley considering firing and putting himin the ground.

But Holbrook's snarlechoed in her head, a leash to her bloodlust. They needed him alive. Needed himcoherent and confession-ready to truly put this nightmare to bed.

The trees thinnedahead of her, and the forest floor rose in a shallow incline. Ripley sucked ina lungful of air gone thick and swampy, hitched up her pants, and charged uplike she was storming the beaches of Normandy.

At the crest, sheskidded to a halt, bits of leaves and loam spraying from her heels. Ahead lay asmall clearing that choked with weeds and wildflowers that glowed ghostly inthe moonlight.

And in the center,Adam Draven stood with his hands on his knees, chest heaving, a deer run toground by the baying hounds.

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