Page 55 of 1st Shock
All this time, Mickey has been in jail and his stepbrother has taken up the effort.
"It's me," he says.
And then he's on me, moving so fast I barely have time for it to register. I throw my art supplies at him and use the measly second of his stunned shock to sprint left, back toward the dirt path.
I grip my keys, yanking them from my pocket and I hear Charlie's voice.Go for the eyes.The throat. The knee.
The crotch he'll expect.Go there second.
Behind me, the humph-humph of heavy breathing closes in and heat bores through me. No. Please. Not now. I focus on the she-shed—right there—while battling my rising panic.
No lock. It won't help me. And the last thing I want is to be trapped inside with a psycho kicking in the rotting door.
I pump my legs, running harder, but Billy Ray has a good twelve inches on me. His strides cover more ground and the humph-humph closes in, surrounds me. My ears whoosh and blood stretches my veins to bursting.
Breathe.
I have to or I'll pass out, fall to the ground in front of a serial killer. Charlie comes to me again.
Fight hard. Let him know you won't make it easy.
A scream leaves me. A raging, howl that shreds my throat as I run.
Oooff.Something hard smacks against the back of my head and pain spreads like a web in my skull.
"Bitch," he says.
My eyes blur and I blink, once, twice, three times.It's coming.The blackness.
"Goodnight, Megan Eleanor Schock.
22
Charlie
My heart feels like it's turning inside out with fear, my pulse pumping so hard it's in a loudness contest with the helicopter’s blades.Thumpthumpthump.Everything in me is triple-timing it, my right knee bobbing up and down, my hands sweating.
Billy Ray isn't at the cabin. He's hunting Meg. I know these two facts like I do my own birth date. JJ has tried to convince me otherwise—that Meg is fine, that Billy Ray is not in D.C—but I know better.
God help me, she might already be dead. The thought makes my guts turn over, and I clench my jaw at the threat of my empty stomach revolting once more. My sister, my friend, my partner.
How could I have let this happen?I'm trained to get inside the head of criminals, to dissect serial killers and understand them better than they do themselves. Anger pounds away alongside the fear. Anger at myself, anger at Billy Ray, anger at everyone.
JJ called in the local police and FBI to gather evidence at Billy Ray's cabin before we left. I insisted we take off before they arrived, threatening to leave him behind when he said he needed to stay and give everyone background on Billy Ray and Mickey. No way was I wasting time waiting for him when Meg's life was in danger. He acquiesced and a state trooper met us at the base of the mountain and escorted us with lights flashing to the airfield. On the way, JJ called the D.C. police, instructing them to put out an APB on Billy Ray's vehicle, and to be on the lookout for Meg's van as well.
Too slow.Everything is taking too much time. I've called Meg a dozen times, all going straight to voicemail. She has her phone turned off, I'm sure of it, which means I can't trace it. I've called everyone I can think of to ask if they've seen her, even Dr. Gentry. No luck.
Matt is out of town on a case, but I called him anyway, and he's on his way back to the office. I saw on the security system app that Meg left, but. I instruct Matt to go there anyway. Maybe she left a note.
Matt, too, has tried to convince me she’s fine. "Meg is smart. She's not going to let a killer sneak up on her."
Sheissmart, but I can't reach her. I know when my sister's in trouble, and she is in big trouble right now.
Matt put in a call to Taylor and her FBI cohorts are also looking for Billy Ray. I called my parents, but they aren't home. Mom owns a cell phone but rarely turns it on. I keep praying Meg simply took my advice and went home for a nap.
Please let her be sleeping safely in her bed.
The fear screaming through my system tells me that's a pipe dream.
