Page 35 of Preying Game

“Right.”

“Then what?”

“Then I don’t know. I hope I can get back to Alice again.”

“When was the last time you contacted her?”

“Last night. After that, some stuff happened with the kidnapper, and we didn’t hook up again.”

“Have you tried since?”

“Yes.”

The admission hung in the air.

“I’m hoping it will be easier once I get to Carvertown.”

Grant told them about the hostile cop showing up. “Jonah won’t be able to drive onto the estate.”

“I’ll park as close as possible. Or maybe if I come in a car instead of a helo, nobody will notice.”

“Except that they may be on the lookout for you.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You could take a werewolf with you to keep the cop occupied,” Cole Marshall said.

Jonah shook his head. “He’d probably shoot you.”

When the meeting broke up, Frank asked Jonah to stay behind. “Are you emotionally involved with her?”

“I don’t know her all that well.”

“But how do you feel about her?” Frank pressed.

“I want desperately to save her,” he admitted in a low voice.

“Then focus on your emotions when you try to connect with her again,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just a hunch I have.”

oOo

Alice stood, goose bumps rising on her arms as she turned away from her captor. She knew he had been toying with her—deliberately stoking her fears. She felt hardly any better when she left the room, taking the side passage and making her way back downstairs to the familiar corridor that led to the cell where she’d lived for the past . . .” She stopped. Well, at least two months according to what Jonah had told her. Sometimes it felt like years and sometimes it felt like the last days of her life had gone by in a flash.

She stepped into the cell but didn’t bother to close the door, sure that he had locked her back into the lower level of the house. As she stood in the center of the room, she wanted to thrust her hand into her pocket and make sure the matches were still there. But that might be a dead giveaway that she had stolen something useful. Instead, she sat down on the bed and opened the folder.

The first thing she saw was a picture of a grand mansion house in the red brick Georgian style with a portico entrance held up by white Doric columns. The next photo pulled back from the house so she could see gravel paths that ran through formal gardens. Another picture must have been taken from the roof of the mansion. It showed more of the garden layout, plus a maze made of manicured hedges. There were additional pictures of woods and vast fields. Her heart leaped when she saw a river in the background. If she could get to it, could she dive in and swim to safety? It looked promising, but there must be a catch. Maybe he’d salted the shoreline with land mines—or sharp stakes. It couldn’t be easy to get away by water.

If there were sharp stakes could she pull one up and use it to attack Hayward? Yeah, and how would she even get close to him?

She knew that her captor was playing a psychological game with her. He wanted her on edge. He wanted her to make the wrong decisions tonight. Too bad she didn’t know what was best. Maybe she’d have a better idea when she could see the grounds in person.

She focused on the material in the folder for as long as she could. Hayward brought a lunch tray. Weirdly, it was fried chicken and mashed potatoes, things he hadn’t permitted during her stay here. Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed them, but that was impossible today. She ate a little because she knew she would need fuel.

And she would also need to be rested, she told herself. Lying down, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. When she couldn’t turn her mind off, she tried to reach out to Jonah. She’d never contacted him during the day, and she had the feeling it wasn’t going to work, but she sent her mind out to him anyway.

Jonah, Hayward is having the hunt tonight. I have a surprise for him, but I need your help. Where are you? Please come back to me.

She repeated the message as she had done the first night she’d contacted him, praying that he would hear her. He didn’t answer, but she couldn’t stop clinging to the feeling that he was nearby. Maybe closer than he ever had been.

Still he didn’t answer, and she decided that was just wishful thinking. Closing her eyes, she ordered herself to relax on the narrow bed. Somehow, against all odds, she did slip into sleep.

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