Page 23

Chapter 22

Juliet

Behind me, headlights flicker as a vehicle bumps over the bridge.

My heart leaps into my throat. Only two people could be in that vehicle: Rachel or Charles.

I glance desperately at the front door, willing Trey to burst through. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t come to save me this time.

I’ve finally run out of luck.

I scramble into the back, ducking down onto the floor and curling into a ball.

It’s dark. Whoever is in that car won’t suspect that Trey is harboring someone in his backseat.

But what if it’s Charles and he discovers Trey planting the thumb inside that house? What if he hurts him?

I can’t let his father get his hands on him. I won’t.

As soon as he goes inside, I’ll slip in after him. I’ll have the element of surprise.

This time, he’ll be the prey, and I’ll be the hunter.

I wait with bated breath as the tires roll to a stop. A door creaks open. Slams shut with a metallic thunk .

The crunching footsteps over the dirt and gravel are close until they fade away.

I need to get to Trey. Who knows what will happen to him in that house.

Silently, I straighten and turn, ready to sneak out of the car when I spot something through the window.

A face.

Someone watching me.

I scream as I register Charles Lamont’s dark, feral eyes pinned on me.

He opens the door and claws for me as I scramble back, heart in my throat, and reach for the door handle on the driver’s side.

Frigid air strikes my face as I fling the door open and burst out?—

But before I can take another step toward my escape, my back slams against the hard steel, air whooshing from my lungs.

I don’t get a chance to scream before a cool metal cylinder presses against my temple.

The barrel of a pistol.

“Walk to the house.” His grating command curdles the acid in my stomach.

I managed to escape Charles Lamont once. But not this time.

Terror like I’ve never felt before makes my knees tremble. Makes my heart pump so hard, I’m afraid it will give out altogether. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you tried framing me for murder, you little bitch.” He smacks the barrel harder against my temple, and my heart flutters with the terror that he’ll pull the trigger any second.

If he does, at least Trey will hear the blast. At least he’ll have a chance to escape. To get justice for me and his mother and Autumn and every other innocent person his father victimized.

Somehow, he found out about Trey’s plan to hide the thumbs and implicate his father in the deaths of those three horrible men. But he blames me.

If I’m going to die, I’m going down swinging.

I spit at him, spraying his face. “You are a murderer.”

He jerks me forward by the shoulder and moves the barrel of the gun from my temple to the middle of my back. “Walk.”

He doesn’t lead me through the front doors. Around the side of the house, a hidden door blends in with the siding, leading directly into an all too familiar room.

I choke on a sob. The workbench is still in the same place. A tiny window, barely big enough to squeeze through.

The door automatically locks behind us. No knob to turn from the inside.

“I’d been hoping we could pick up where we left off.” He drops the gun from my back, and for one stupid split-second, my heart leaps with hope that I might still escape him. “Don’t make a sound. Or I’ll shoot my son.”

He killed his own wife. He’s beaten Trey countless times. I don’t doubt he would shoot his own son. Kill him.

With that, he leaves me in the room where he killed Autumn, opening the door I once escaped through. This time, ensuring the door is locked behind him.