Page 49 of Let Her Live

Jake took off running, and without thinking, Fiona sped after him. They ran and ran into the darkness. Then, Fiona heard something. Far off to the left, she swore she heard the sound of a man grunting in pain. She stopped dead in her tracks, trying to hone her ears. Another grunt. Her heart jumped. She was sure of it—it was a man in pain!

"Jake!" she shouted.

But when she looked forward, Jake was gone. He'd kept running, speeding ahead, and he must not have realized that Fiona fell behind.

Her mind clattered with anxious thoughts. For one, she wasn't armed—could she really go head-to-head with this killer? No, she had to go after Jake, to tell him what she heard. But that sound was definitely a man in pain. What if she left now, and then it was too late?

She had to go after him. There was no other choice. She just hoped Jake would realize she was gone, and come back for her.

***

Jake's heart was pounding, but he tried to keep it together, honing into his years of training. He was running through the grassy plains, the flashlight bouncing along with him, casting a swath of light through the grass in front of him.

Jake's vision focused on the ground, his brain telling him to look for clues. But he almost tripped over something in the grass. He turned back to see it was a log.

"Damn it," he cursed. "Red, watch out—"

Jake turned back to the forest, only to see he was alone. Panic immediately struck him.

"Fiona?" he called out. His stomach sank to the floor when he realized that Fiona was nowhere in sight, and she wasn't answering his calls. "Fiona!" he shouted again, projecting his voice as loud as he could. There was no response.

Panicking, Jake ran back in the direction he'd come from. How had he lost her? How had he not realized she was behind him? Something must have happened to split them up, but he'd been so blinded by what he'd thought he heard, he hadn't even realized Fiona had gotten away.

"Fiona!" he shouted, his voice trailing off as he got farther away from the place where they broke apart.

He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Fiona. He knew it was crazy, but he had grown to care for her more than he'd even realized. Ever since things broke up with Lauren—hell, maybe even before that—she had dominated his mind. And especially since the kiss.

Jake had lost too many women who were important to him. His mom, who would never come back. Lauren, who would never forgive him. He couldn't lose Fiona too. He would never forgive himself if this was his fault. He had to find her. He had to find them both.

***

Fiona stood in the grass, her shoes wet from the damp soil. She clenched her fists, trying to will her body into acting, and yet she couldn't move. She was stuck.

Fiona tried to listen for sounds in the forest around her, her ears tingling in the silence. Was the shuffling still there?

Fiona had to find the source.

She had to.

Her mind was telling her to find Jake, to tell him about the noise, but she had to follow her gut, and her gut was telling her to go to the sound. Fiona jumped into action, kicking herself for wasting time in the first place.

Old memories assaulted her mind. Memories of the day Joslyn went missing from the beach and the weeks and months and years that followed, with no answers. She did nothing back then, but she’d vowed not to be complacent again—just like she was fighting to find answers on Joslyn, she had to fight now to save another person’s life.

She started running through the forest, the ground squelching beneath her shoes.

She stumbled over a log, falling onto her knees. The grass was stained with mud, but she didn't have time to think about it. She had to find that man inpain.

Fiona got up and kept running, and when she heard it again—it was clearer and louder in her ears—she jumped up and ran harder, pushing through the darkness.

She burst into a clearing.

And there, she saw Chris Hein, cowering on the ground beneath a man who stood above him—holding a knife.

Fiona froze in shock and fear.

The man was wearing hiking gear—a pair of cargo shorts, boots, and a bucket hat, but his clothes were beyond filthy, coated in mud, like they hadn't been washed in weeks. He was skinny and trembling.

Meanwhile, Chris looked up at him, holding one arm up. He was bleeding from his shoulder.

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