Page 109 of Hunted: Season Two

Or feet?

Zig zagging around the dead branches and body parts continuously creates a pattern of crunches and snaps that sound like a slow clap no one should ever want, one that seems to increase in consistency as the pieces we discover grow in size.

Neck?

Upper arms?

They remain steady in placement.

I think that’s her shoulder something?

Sternum maybe?

Pelvis?

Is that her fucking pelvis?!

Similar to some sort ofWizard of Ick, morbid brick road, they lead us to a tree located closer to the less known cliffs than the cop we left behind.

“Is that…” Bunny breathlessly begins, both hands flying to cup her mouth. “Is that her?”

Despite my shaky frame, I lower myself to a kneeling position directly across from the skull, I know belongs to my mother.

The woman who raised me.

Who taught me the best values I hope to someday to teach the son I know we’re having.

It’s impossible to stop my jaw from quivering, so I don’t.

I allow it to tremble and throb and tick while reaching out to lightly caress the crack from the accident that took her awaylong before this psychopath. “I’m gonna get this asshole, Mom. I promise.”

“Fuckme,” Nolan’s voice abruptly darts into the conversation, indicating his late arrival. “Do all those body parts belong to who I think they do?”

“Yeah,” Bunny meekly answers on my behalf.

“Fuck,” he grumbles again in obvious remorse. “Sorry, I wasn’t here sooner. I ran out of goddamn gas.”

“How?” My face twists just enough over my shoulder to meet his stare. “How is that fucking possible?”

“I think the fuel gage is busted.” A small pat to Bunny’s ass is delivered in passing. “I had a full tank, then the next time I turned it on it was almost empty, and then the next time it was full again, and then I’m on my way here, and somehow ran out.”

Confusion darts my eyebrows down. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me about it.” His frame lowers to match my stance. “But we can talk about that later.” One hand lands lovingly in the middle of my back. “Right now, we need to talk about that.”

“She’s not athat, Nolan.” I viciously bite, stare narrowing. “She’s still my fucking mom.”

“Not her, Kid,” he grunts in irritation prior to kicking his chin upward to a small recording device wedged on a tree branch angled downward at us. “That.”

Chapter 22

Bunny

I’m pretty sure this is a Halloween costume.

Turning to the left, I admire where the white, faux fur cuts off right below my ass while nodding.

Yup.

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