Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Also by Owen Laukkanen
Whitmer stopped. He smiled again but said nothing.
“Now,” Jess said. “You back away from me and my dog, and you let us go.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Nudged Lucy back with her knee, toward the fence and the busted gate. Clucked her teeth and spoke softly, soothing the dog, moving her gently to freedom, without ever taking her eyes off of Whitmer.
* * *
Mason ran for his life through the labyrinth junkyard. He heard the mutts snapping at his heels, knew they’d take him down without prejudice, tear him to shreds. He veered right, hauled ass up the side of a stack of cars, scraping his hands and his knees something fierce on the rust and bare metal.
The big dogs were fast as heck, but they weren’t much good for climbing. He heard the dogs hit the stack behind him, fairly collide with it, the stack lurching beneath him from the impact. The dogs leapt up, their claws scraping down the car sides.
One dog got a grip on his boot and held tight, dragging Mason back as its partner tried for the other boot. Mason kicked the dog in the head, once and again, heard it squeal and drop back to the dirt, hit hard, and launch itself skyward again.
He kept climbing until he made the top of the stack. He couldn’t see Jess anywhere but hoped he’d bought her enough time. One of the dogs was still trying to follow him up; the other stood in the dirt barking its dang head off like it’d just treed a bear.
Mason jumped down off the other side of the stack. Hit the ground and rolled and knew the dogs wouldn’t stay fooled forever. He beat it across the hard-packed dirt and crossed in front of the old farmhouse toward the other side of the yard, where more junked cars lay in various stages of deterioration. From the barking behind him, he could pinpoint the moment the dogs cottoned on, and he hadn’t covered nearly enough ground to feel good about it.
He ran faster. Didn’t look back. Didn’t even glance sideways to see how Jess was doing. She had a shotgun, after all. Heck, she was a goddamn marine; she’d be fine. If he made it out of here without winding up dog food, though, it’d be a damn miracle.
He reached another stack of cars, clawed his way up. Sliced his hand open on a loose piece of trim, ignored it. Made the top of the stack just as the dogs hit the bottom. Now what?