The echo reverberated through the mist.

The afternoon’s chill sank deeper into her, aggravated by her growing fear about whatever trick Max was planning. Obviously he was using the distraction of the rocks to hide any sounds he made. She doubted that he could have gotten ahead of her.

Which meant he was throwing rocks from behind her.

That tactic could work for her too.

She slipped the phone back into her pocket, freeing her right hand so that she could pick up a rock. She turned and threw it high in the air, imitating what Max had done. Maybe she’d get lucky and hit the bastard.

At a minimum she hoped to confuse him.

The rock struck an invisible branch and made more noise as it dropped past other branches. She used those precious seconds to risk the subtle sounds she couldn’t avoid, as she clutched the knife and crept onward.

• • •

MAX FLINCHED FROM THE CRUNCHING sound that his shoe made on the gravel of the parking area. The forest had been a vague hulking presence in what was now a misty drizzle. Now all of a sudden there weren’t any shrouded trees ahead of him. He stepped back onto soft earth and inched quietly to the right toward where his phone showed that Sansborough wasn’t far from him.

He thought he heard her moving past trees.

But maybe not.

It didn’t matter.

In a few seconds, she would step onto the gravel. The noise she made would give her away. She wouldn’t be able to recover before he lunged toward the noise and shot her.

In the face. In each breast. In the stomach.

For Rudy.

He knew that Marta would want Sansborough alive, to exchange her for Nick. But the truth was, Max didn’t like Nick. On the other hand, Rudy had been Max’s cousin.

His friend.

No more watching Rambo movies with him.

No more joking around.

Close to him, a shoe stepped onto gravel.

Shouting to engage her startle reflex and momentarily paralyze her, he rushed ahead, firing.

• • •

THE SIGN AT THE SIDE of the highway—Marsdon 20 miles—increased Simon’s feeling of urgency.

So close.

The clouds darkened.

A misty rain blotted the countryside, obscuring the beauty for which the area was famous. He switched on the windshield wipers and glanced toward his phone, hoping to receive another text.

When he finally made it to Marsdon, then what?

There were a lot of woods out here.

A black SUV sped past him, hurling spray across his windshield.

• • •

MARTA ADJUSTED THE WINDSHIELD WIPERS to a higher speed and pressed harder on the SUV’s accelerator.

• • •

LIZ’S SHOE CRUNCHED THE GRAVEL of the parking lot, the noise seeming so loud that she recoiled, nearly dropping the knife. Someone suddenly shouted to her left.

Max.

His footsteps thundering toward her.

Gunshots roared.

A bullet tugged her right sleeve.

It would have struck her chest if she hadn’t lurched back from the sound she made on the gravel.