She veered quickly to the right, shined her flashlight over the terrain. She could vault the ditch, climb over the fence, and . . . Crap! The fence was wire, thorny strands of twisted barbed wire held up by skinny metal posts. She’d have to roll under it or bend the wires and step through.

Fine.

Whatever.

Brakes squealed as the Dodge skidded to a stop.

Over the idling of the engine, she heard a door fly open.

Pulse hammering in her ears, she kept moving. Fast! Fast! Fast!

Blam!

The crack of a rifle thundered through the night.

Holy Christ! A gun? The freak had a gun?

He won’t kill you. If he was going to, he would have already. You heard him; he’s not going to murder you until he has Zoe. But that was all before she’d locked him up. Before she’d nearly taken his life. How, for the love of God, did he escape? Who cares? He’s here and shooting at you! Keep moving. Get out of his line of fire. For God’s sake, Chloe, RUN!

Heart in her throat, she threw herself over the ditch, her body sailing through the darkness to land hard.

“Ooof!” All of the air came out of her lungs. As she hit, both phone and flashlight fell from her hands. And she could hear him getting closer, nearly upon her. The horrifying crunch of heavy boots on gravel, the crackle of glass smashing under his weight—all the sounds of his hulking body moving through the night sent alarm shrieking through her.

Move, Chloe. Now!

Fast as she could, hugging the ground, she crawled. Mud caked her fingertips as she scuttled toward the fence only to hit it full-on, rusted barbs piercing her skin, a sharp post scraping her shoulder.

“Ow,” she cried, then bit her tongue.

His boot steps sounded closer and he was running, but at least he wasn’t shooting again. Obviously the shotgun blast had been intended to scare her.

It did.

Then the thud of boots stopped and he was airborne, jumping into the ravine. His flashlight’s beam bounced over her. She cringed and tried to get away, tried to slide beneath the lowest strand of wire.

She just needed a few more seconds. With her body flat against the ground, she slid, trying desperately to reach the other side, praying she would make it, pulling herself, inch by inch . . .

Until the horrid T-shirt caught on one of the sharp barbs, yanking her back.

She lunged herself forward, heard the T-shirt rip with a sickening hiss just as a huge hand clamped around her ankle. “No, you don’t,” he wheezed, his voice a harsh whisper. “You’re not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 21

The water was cool, refreshing, running over his bare skin like smooth fingers. Overhead the night sky was a blanket of stars, while below, on the river’s surface, the moon painted a ribbon of light.