She began scooting forward on her belly, using her elbows to pull herself along. She was almost there, to the little gravesite. She’d come back here only once, and that had been enough. She didn’t remember what she’d been doing back there, maybe boredom, but she’d found the remains, obviously of an animal. It was just a scattering of small bones, but it had creeped her out enough to never return. The earth dipped down and circled around the mound, but Dakota wouldn’t know that. He was almost to the rise now; he’d be able to look into the valley Juno had rolled into, but he wouldn’t be able to see her in the dark. He’ll probably still shoot, she thought. Once her feet were pulled to safety she reached into her pocket and pulled out what she’d taken from the kitchen drawer; then, she began moving quietly forward. Juno rounded the corner as Dakota pulled back from the rise. She knew she wasn’t where he thought she’d be. He’d need to turn around if he wanted to keep looking for her. She eyed the gun, which was in his right hand, pressed to the dirt as he grunted in surprise at not seeing her. He’d be able to turn around any second, and he’d see her there. If she didn’t act, she would die as Terry Russel had, at the hands of a sick, angry man. Juno didn’t like those terms.