Page 107 of Hunted: Season Two

Was this what he intended to do with her body from the beginning?

Was this always his fucked-up end game for it?

More churning of my stomach encourages new rounds of vomit to surge up my throat, yet I swallow it.

Force it to stay down.

Unseen.

Unheard.

I gotta keep my shit together.

Bunny’s gotta know I can handle whatever’s thrown at us.

That I’m capable of being whoever and doing whatever is necessary for her.

And us.

And our child.

“You sure this is your mother, Woods?” Post cautiously investigates. “A lot of grifters pass this direction. A lot of them and college kids. And hippie honeymooners.” His eyes flood with sympathy I could do without. “These remains could belong to any one of them.”

“That’s her wedding ring,” I kick my chin to the skeleton’s spread extremities where a gold band that possesses a tiny, single emerald is nestled. “You’ll see Woods engraved on the inside.”

The ME looks up at Post, waiting for the instruction to check for evidence, and once it’s given, he carefully lifts the finger to remove the accessory. Less than a minute later, he’s twirling the ring around, relief instantly settling into his expression. “It’s not her.”

Befuddlement has me lifting my head off of my girl’s. “Then whose is it?”

“Says Abernathy,” Dr. Raum enthusiastically exclaims. “These bones belong to a woman named Bunny Abernathy.”

It’s impossible to stop her from ripping herself out of my arms. “Baby-”

“No…” she shakes her head in disbelief. “No…” Additional denial is effortlessly presented. “No.”

Dr. Raum cringes as his bald head turns upward, the late afternoon sun bouncing off it. “I take it you know this, Bunny Abernathy?”

Rather than reply in words, hitched breaths are given, and I’m not surprised.

I can’t be.

Most of the world we know thinks her last name is Ripley.

She’s absolutelybecomeRipley.

Much like detective Brian became illegal street racer Brian.

Hell, even Post – who is somewhat aware of the stalking situation – doesn’t know her real last name, althoughnowhe probably does.

He’s not exactly the Jeff Gordon of cop shit, but he’s not that dense.

He can put two tracks together and see the race.

“Bunny,” comes out of the sheriff in a less than confident tone at the same time he extends an empathetic hand in her direction. “It’s gonna be-”

“No,” she hisses, body still backing away from the crime scene. “No!”

“She shares a name with the victim?!” Dr. Raum excitedly questions. “I wonder if there’s a connection!”

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