Where was she and why was she so damned wet? Oh, crap! She was only partially wet. The other part of her was covered in mud. Half of her body was in the water, half out on the riverbank. Her arms still hugged the branch that had carried her to this spot, where she must have gotten hung up as the tree limb locked with other snags protruding into the river. Water lapped at her legs. The water, along with the dappled shade provided by the tangled tree limbs, had probably saved her skin from burning in the intense sunlight.

She tried to think past the ache in her forehead. She noticed that the sun was lying low and figured that she’d lain here, from the early morning hours of last night until now when it seemed to be late afternoon. Her thoughts went to Chloe and her heart cracked. Surely she’d gotten away from the madman. Surely she was somewhere safe and alerted the cops. This very minute there were probably hordes of police and volunteers, along with Zoe’s own family and friends, looking for her.

Zoe raised her head.

Pain exploded behind her eyes.

“Ouch! Crap!” Slowly lowering her head, she let out her breath. Geez, that hurt. Even staring upward burned her eyes. Her bare skin was red; though painful as it might be, a sunburn was the least of her problems. As far as she knew the sicko was still after her. After them.

Oh, God, she hoped not. She hoped that psycho was dead.

Nonetheless, she couldn’t just lie here, exposed to the elements, waiting for that creep show to appear. If he wasn’t dead or incapacitated, he’d be looking for her, and he would realize that she had drifted downstream.

Dear God, he could be nearby for all she knew.

Paddling a canoe. Driving a motorboat or hiking through the swampy forest.

“Damn it all to hell.” She watched as several pelicans drifted on the air currents high above, beaks long and wings wide against a sky where clouds moved slowly . . . Or was it her head swimming? She tried to roll over and felt a shaft of pain sear through her ankle. Oh, God, she couldn’t move. She was stuck in this muddy shoreline of twisted tree roots and weeds, a veritable haven for alligators and snakes and God knew what other slithery, dangerous creatures.

But the gators and cottonmouths, copperheads and rattlers were far less dangerous than the beast who had captured Chloe and her just hours before midnight. Had it been yesterday? Or the day before? Surely she had only been “out” for less than a day. Right?

Did it matter?

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it had been forever since she’d eaten, and her bladder suggested she might want to find a place to relieve herself.

“Great,” she muttered.