Page 98 of Cold as Hell

Rage explodes, so intense I can’t breathe. But I don’t move. I do not move one muscle because I know the truth of his words. He let Lynn die without a gag because he enjoyed her terror and agony while she desperately screamed for help. He’d happily watch me with a gunshot wound to my stomach, desperately trying to save my baby, knowing I can’t. And the best part of all? It’d be my fault. He warned me, and I didn’t listen.

I remember what Yolanda said when she woke. How she’d realized I was right about why Lynn didn’t fight harder. Because there is a point at which you absolutely do not fight back. And this is mine.

When the rage clears enough for me to see, my gaze lands on Grant, slumped forward, dead. His hands have fallen from his throat, and there’s a gash in his jugular. Jerome came up behind him through the thick trees, while Grant was talking—while he was talking about wanting time alone with his wife’s killer—and Jerome reached around the smaller man and sliced his throat open.

“Nicely done, isn’t it?” he says behind me. “My stepdad would be proud. He always told me those hunting lessons would come in handy.”

ItisJerome behind me. I know that even if I can’t see him. Even if his voice doesn’t sound like I’ve ever heard it. Because that was Marlon, and this is Jerome.

The gun digs into my side. “Start walking. Back toward the lake.”

For a second, my knees lock. Headawayfrom town? Hell, no. Then I feel that gun, and I remember something.

Twenty minutes.

Anders said he’d give me twenty minutes. Then he’d come looking for me. He’ll come, and he’ll find Grant.

I nod and start walking, moving slowly. When I speak, I keep my voice low, to be clear I’m not trying to summon help. “I’m having contractions.”

“Yep, I figured that. I saw the way your face was scrunching up when you were listening to him prattle. Not an attractive look, Casey.”

“I just wanted you to know, in case I make any sudden moves.”

He gives a low laugh. “You mean that you want me to know so youcanmake a sudden move and get away from my gun.”

“No,” I say firmly. “I won’t do that.”

“But you can try, if you like. I don’t mind. You try something, and I shoot you in the stomach and kill your baby. That would be fitting, I think. You’re such a go-getter, Casey. Poor Eric could barely get you to slow down. Let me kidnap and murder you? Never. You’ll fight to your dying breath, because that’s the kind of woman you are.”

I say nothing. I don’t need to. He’s having too much fun on his own.

“I have another plan for you,” he says. “A more elaborate scenario. I’d rather stick with that, but if you try anything, I will happily make the adjustment. Shoot you in the belly and then kill you the way I want, after you experience your baby dying inside you.” He pauses. “Babies do feel pain, right? At this stage, certainly.”

I grit my teeth and force myself to walk as another contraction surges.

“Let’s not talk about your baby dying in horrible agony,” he says cheerfully. “You must have questions.”

I want to say no. I can tell he’s eager to give answers. That’s the type of killer he is—so damn proud of his work. On the one hand, he’s smug about never having been caught. Hell, as far as I can tell, his victims’ deaths haven’t been investigated. That has to be very satisfying… but also veryunsatisfying because no one knows how clever he’s been.

But here’s his chance. Someone he can tell. Better yet, someone who hunted him and lost. Predator turned prey. An audience who won’t live to reveal his secrets.

I want to refuse to be that audience. Deny him and watch him choke on it.

But I can’t take that risk.

I told Yolanda that Lynn went along with her killer likely hoping she’d see an opportunity to escape—or someone would hear her screams. Yolanda went along with him anddidget a chance to escape. Now I must do the same. Play the good victim. The cowed victim. Wait for Anders.

“It was Yolanda all along, wasn’t it?” I say. “You never wanted Kendra or Lynn. Yolanda was the target.” Too late, I realize that I’m bringing up the one who got away, and I quickly add, “And now she’s dying. Will is taking her back to the clinic, but she’s not going to make it. She was out there too long.”

He laughs softly, the sound thrumming with satisfaction. “Clever, clever Yolanda. Escaped and thought she was safe. I knew she wouldn’t get far. Then I heard your bunch found her, and I thought maybe she’d survived.”

“She won’t,” I lie. Then I add more horror, to feed his hunger for it. “Even if April works a miracle, she’ll lose her hands to frostbite.”

“Then you know what? I hope April does save her. Can you imagine Yolanda without hands? She’d grab the nearest scalpel and finish the job. Well, no, I guess she couldn’t grab anything, could she?”

His laugh grates through me, and it takes all my willpower to keep walking.

“Turn here,” he says. “We’re heading onto the lake.”

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