Now he waited, watching them carefully. They were sisters. He could tell by the way they teased each other. By the way one always seemed to take charge. She must be the older one, he thought. He would get the younger one first. Protective instincts were always fun to toy with.

The youngest couldn’t be much older than sixteen or seventeen. She was telling her sister about high school, about teachers her sister used to have, and about some boy she liked.

They seem so happy, he thought. But that was always his favorite part—how fleeting happiness could be. And how he himself could turn it into the darkest moment they’ll ever have.

Just then, the youngest stood up from around the fire. She insisted to her sister they needed more brush to keep it burning, and she made her way to the surrounding woods. She was walking in his direction and he carefully made sure he was fully concealed behind the bush in front of him.

This is perfect, he thought as he aimed his crossbow.

She walked closer. He had a good shot and he carefully placed his finger on the trigger. He stared into the scope and just when he had a good shot of her leg, his finger pressed down hard.

It was just one shot, but it was all he needed. Her screams echoed in the forest. She held her leg in agony—in confusion—as her sister whipped her head toward the sound. When she saw her little sister on the ground, she ran toward her, screaming frantically, as her sister’s blood poured out onto the forest floor.

She wrapped an article of clothing around her leg. She was so distracted with her sister’s wound that she didn’t even see the movement in the woods, him pulling back the bowstring and placing another bolt in the barrel grove.

She reached for her phone in her pocket, disoriented by confusion as she scanned the forest around her. But then he stepped forward, crossbow in hand, and a cloud of terror flooded through her eyes.

It sent a thrill through his body and he waited for a second, letting the moment flow through him like a drug, and just when he craved one more taste, he took aim.

Chapter Twenty One

Tara lay in bed in her hotel room, trying to keep her eyes closed. It was late and it had been a long night, but her mind was wide awake. Another day had come and gone and she couldn’t help but hear a clock ticking in her head, reminding her that they were running out of time.

When sleep didn’t come, she finally sat up, reaching for the lamp on her nightstand. Light filled the room and she turned the TV on, hoping that watching something would make her grow tired and distract her mind from the case. She flipped through the limited number of channels the hotel provided, but suddenly, something caught her eye and she stopped on the local news.