Page 22 of Let Her Live

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hank wasn't the biggest fan of camping, but his daughter, Junie, loved it, so here he was, standing in a campground under the night sky, unable to sleep.

He sighed as he took a puff of his cigarette. He was well away from the campsite, so his daughter wouldn't smell the smoke, but he knew that his wife, Brenda, would be less than enthused when he came back to the tent. But what was he supposed to do? She'd wanted to come out here, for Junie's sake, but Hank wasn't perfect.

Honestly, the whole trip had been from hell anyway. On his way into town, he'd accidentally run over a squirrel, which promptly traumatized Junie. She'd begged him to pull over and go back to check on the animal, but it had been very, very dead, which Junie had seen first-hand.

Things had gotten better in the days since then, but still. It was hell.

They weren't even far from home, only about an hour away from where they lived, but to Junie, the traveling aspect wasn't the point. She just liked being in nature. Hank couldn't stand the way the bugs ran rampant around here, but who was he to rob his daughter of an experience she wanted? Still, he was human, and he'd needed a damn smoke. He couldn't sleep in that hot, sweaty tent. At least it was cooler out here.

As he took another drag, he heard a rustling in the bushes nearby, causing him to tense up. He tried to brush it off, but his mind wouldn't let him. What if it was a bear? Or a mountain lion? He had no idea what kind of animals lived in these woods. Alligators, most likely, but apparently, this campsite had been ranked safe from wildlife, except for the damn bugs. Hank swatted a mosquito off his arm. They were all biting right into his tattoos, and he knew it was going to mess up the look of them for a while. The things people do for family.

As Hank smoked, he looked up at the sky, noticing how clear it was. The stars were shining brightly, and he was surprised at how many of them he could see. It was a peaceful and quiet night, except for the occasional sound of an owl hooting in the distance. Hank took another drag of his cigarette and then tossed it to the ground, crushing it with his boot. He knew he shouldn't litter, but he was too tired to find a proper ashtray, and he didn't want to risk starting a fire by throwing it in the woods, wet and swampy as they were.

As he turned to head back to the tent, he heard another rustling in the bushes.He'd thought he'd heard something earlier, too, back when they'd been having a fire at the site. He'd sworn he'd felt like he was being watched by something or someone. But he'd quickly passed it off. Places like this could foster paranoia, that was for sure. But then, he heard it: a low moan, sounding like it could be from an animal.

Hank stopped in his tracks. It sounded almost like a cat. A pet one, at that.It let out another moan, only this one was even more pained. Maybe it was hurt. If Junie found it, she'd be mortified. He had to investigate. If it was some sick or dying cat, maybe he could move it somewhere else so Junie wouldn't happen upon it. Maybe he could try to save it to make up for the whole squirrel thing, but he wasn't a damn vet. He didn't love animals the same way his little girl did, not that he had no empathy for them at all—he did. But he was really more of a dog guy.

Hank approached the bushes cautiously, peering into the darkness. It was hard to see anything, but he could hear the animal more clearly now. It was definitely in pain, and it sounded weak.

He took a step closer, and his foot hit something—a small rock maybe—that made a noise.

He parted the bushes, expecting to find a small, helpless cat, but what he saw was something he never imagined. It was a radio of some kind. A device emitting the sound of the animal.

"What the hell?" Hank muttered. Was this some kind of prank?

Cautiously curious, he stepped toward it and picked it up. At that same moment, there was a sound behind him. Hank whirred around, but it was too late. The last thing he saw was a man with crazed eyes standing behind him, holding a giant club up to his head. It came down against his skull with a THWACK radiating through his brain, causing the whole world to melt into black.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Morning light seeped into the room, waking Jake from a dream that had been both peaceful and nightmarish. His dreams were often like that; they started with a ray of pure sunlight, followed by a shadow of death and darkness.

It had been like that the day he'd found his mother's body after she had been murdered in their kitchen. The daylight that had poured through the curtains, followed by the carnage he'd seen on their kitchen floor.

He sometimes theorized that was why he had such erratic dreams. In last night's, he had been in a sunny field with Fiona, of all people.

She'd been running across the green grass, her red hair flying behind her like a banner. Then it had all ended with a river of blood. He could feel the darkness of his dream still clinging to him in the form of an oppressive weight, like a heavy blanket thrown on top of him.

But it was over now. He had to admit, the morning light filtering in through the window was a bright and soothing yellow, almost as if it were a balm to Jake's soul. He glanced at the other bed, where Fiona was sleeping soundly, safe. For a moment, he was lulled into a feeling of calm.

He couldn't explain why he wanted to keep her safe so badly, more than he ever had with another woman. There was something about her that he wanted to protect. He knew she hadn't asked that of him, but it still remained.

Last night, he had wanted to bring up their kiss, to apologize for it again and tell her that he truly didn't want it to change anything between them. He respected her as his partner and his friend, even if he did have a growing infatuation with her.

She hadn't given him the details, but he was worried about her too. Something seemed off, and he had a feeling it was about that Mark guy she was dating. It was obvious Fiona wasn't happy with him, and he knew that Mark had been possessive in the past. Was he the one who kept calling and texting her? The one she was clearly ignoring?

Jake sighed. He felt a sense of frustration that he couldn't shake. He didn't like the idea of someone hurting her, but Fiona was her own person. He didn't want to pry into her personal life, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. He wanted to help her, but he didn't know how. But he couldn't let his growing concern for her overshadow the case. It was morning now, and they had a lot more work to do if they were going to find out who was killing men in the Everglades.

Jake got out of bed and stretched, feeling the stiffness in his muscles from a restless night's sleep. Fiona stirred in her bed, muttering something unintelligible before covering her head with the sheets. She seemed to be a heavy sleeper, which was good. He didn't want to wake her just yet. He needed some time to clear his head and plan their next move.

He walked over to the window and looked out, taking in the view of the swampy landscape outside. It was brutal out there, with the heat and bugs and wildlife. It was no wonder so many people got lost and never found their way out.

Just then, he heard a buzzing. Jake turned around and saw his phone lying on the nightstand. He picked it up to see it was a call from the FBI chief here in Florida, Ramirez.

"This is Agent Tucker," Jake said into the phone.

"Tucker, it's Ramirez," the FBI chief said. "I hope you're adjusting well to work here."

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