Page 69 of Hidden Shadows
Nixon ran, crossing the bridge and pounding through the snow.
As he moved, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called the police. He didn’t stay on the line for long, just made sure they knew there was a shooter at the fairgrounds and two officers were down before hanging up.
More gunshots. Each one felt like a hit to his own chest.
But when the shots stopped, he suddenly wanted them back, because the silence was so much worse. The silence made every one of his fears come to life and consume him.
When he reached the snowman-building section of the fair, his heart jumped into his throat. Bullets had clearly been fired through the snowmen—but why? The only thing that stopped him from losing his damn mind over the possibilities was the fact that she wasn’t here, which meant maybe no bullets had hit Finley.
His gaze zeroed in on blood in the white snow. He ran toward it, seeing the imprint of a body. Not Finley’s. It was too big.
Did that mean the blood wasn’t hers?
He lifted his gaze, spotting a few more specks of blood toward the fence. She’d gotten away…and he’d given chase.
Nixon sprinted toward the tree line, then into the woods, ignoring the way branches slapped his skin and his feet sank into the earth.
Finley was all he could think about.
He scanned the trees, desperately searching for her. The farther he moved into the woods, the more he silenced his steps and the harder he listened.
He wanted noise, dammit! Something to guide him in the right direction—toward Finley.
But there was nothing. No whispers of movement. No rustle of leaves.
Frustration was about to overwhelm him when he saw it—a flash of color. Red.
Finley had been wearing red.
Not caring about quieting his movements any longer, Nixon ran toward it, pumping his limbs hard and fast. When he neared a huge tree, a shovel suddenly swung toward him.
He dodged the makeshift weapon easily, grabbing the handle.
Finley’s eyes collided with his, the air rushing from her lungs. “Nixon!” She dropped the shovel and fell into his arms, the sound she made something between a whimper and a cry.
He took a moment to breathe her in. To allow the full weight of his relief to sit inside him. Calm some of the storm.
Then his gaze shot down to see a body—Beth. She was still and pale, dried blood on her hairline where someone had obviously hit her.
The fucking animal.
When he pulled back, he studied Finley’s face. “What happened? Where is he?”
“I don’t know! I hit him with the shovel, then ran into the woods. I stopped when I saw Beth. She’s alive but her heartbeat’s faint. I dragged her behind this tree and have been hiding here ever since. I can’t leave her!”
Fuck. Her stalker was out here somewhere. But where?
The second the question entered his head, a branch crunched somewhere behind him. He pushed Finley to the ground behind the tree, then crouched beside her and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Whatever happens, stay down. Okay?”
Her eyes were wide and skin pale, but she nodded.
Another crunch, this one louder. Closer.
“Did you find Beth, Finley?” a male voice shouted.
Nixon’s teeth ground together.
“I took her because I knew how much pain it would cause you. I also knew she’d come in handy…which she did. That idiot cousin of hers did everything I asked.”
