Page 38 of Preying Game

Shit. Jonah didn’t know what kind of tracking equipment was available in the fifties, but this guy must have something. He’d told Alice he was giving her a chance to get away, but on the face of it, that must be a lie. If she escaped, she could turn him in, and he had to avoid that at all costs.

Jonah could hear something ticking as the man walked. The beeps got louder as he got closer to Alice. Christ, she must be wearing some kind of transmitter, and Hayward was following the sound. It was primitive by twenty-first century standards, but it was good enough to lead the killer to his victim.

He ran back to Alice. Take off your shirt and pants. And your shoes, too.

What?

He must have planted a transmitter in your clothes.

A what?

Something that will lead him to you. Take off your clothes and leave them on the ground. Then get away from them.

She stared at him, wide eyed.

Do it. I’ll try to slow him down.

He ran back toward the killer, praying that Alice would do what he asked.

oOo

Alice stared after Jonah. She didn’t really understand what he was talking about—but it made sense. There was a whole big estate where she could hide, and how would Hayward know in which direction she’d gone unless he had some way of keeping track of her? And hadn’t he been very specific about what he wanted her to wear for this hunt? With her lower lip firmly between her teeth, she pulled off her shirt and threw it on the ground, to the right of where she was standing. Then she unzipped her pants and threw them on top of the shirt.

Her shoes followed. She had a heart-stopping moment when she realized the matches were still in the pants. Dashing out of the bush, she grabbed the pants and reached in the pocket.

They were gone!

No, wrong pocket.

Quickly she fumbled on the other side and found them.

Wearing only her bra and panties and feeling horribly vulnerable, she darted away from the clothing and into another clump of shrubbery, where she burrowed in as far as possible, thinking that with the dark clothing gone, she was going to stand out like a marble statue in the moonlight.

Faintly, she heard a clicking sound. It grew stronger as the man came around the corner. He stopped short, then turned to the place where she had discarded her clothing.

“Got ya,” he shouted as he charged forward, then stopped a few yards from the bush where she’d been hiding.

“Son of a bitch,” he shouted when he saw the garments lying on the ground. Then he bellowed her name. “Alice, you cunt, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jonah came up behind him and kicked him in the ass. He screamed and whirled around, pulling the trigger of the rifle he was holding. When it discharged, she silently screamed.

Jonah.

I’m fine.

Hayward turned in her direction again, and she cringed back into the bushes. For a terrible moment, she thought he had found her. Then he walked past her, heading for the formal garden. Jonah followed him, leaping in front of the man and waving his arms like he was desperately trying to stop a speeding car from plowing over a cliff. When Hayward ignored him, Jonah punched him in the face. The man howled, but he obviously couldn’t see what had hit him. What did it even feel like? And would the killer keep heading for the garden?

When they were out of sight, she debated what to do—head for the hills or head back for the house? Either option was risky, but she liked going back the way she’d come.

She ran to the mansion and reached the door where she’d exited into the yard.

It was now shut tight.

Damn. She moved around the house looking for a way in, but all the windows were closed. When she tried some, she found they were locked.

Glancing over her shoulder, she couldn’t see Hayward.

Are you still with him, she called to Jonah in her mind

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