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T he spotlights overhead strobed the canyon, sweeping and flashing. Stephen pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. Whop whop whop. The helicopter sounded closer than before. He pulled his legs tighter to his chest and ducked his head, trying to make himself very, very small.

His hidey-hole was only a notch in the cliff, but he’d pulled some brush to stack in front of himself. He didn’t like hiding, but there were more places to run outside than there’d been in his mom’s tiny home.

Just because you can’t see me don’t mean I can’t see you, dumbass. Cord’s words drifted through his mind.

“You’re the dumbass,” he muttered. “Fucking dead fuck. I killed you dead.”

The brown-eyed lady should have died, too.

All he would’ve needed was a few more minutes.

This was all her fault. After his escape, he would have gone far, far away.

But he couldn’t let her live. She’d be three, lucky number three.

After he popped out her eyes, he’d cut her up.

Carve the meat right off her bones, easy as slicing a rabbit.

He imagined it. Saw the blood spraying, mangled muscles laid bare, laced with snapped tendons. The thought calmed him. Until he remembered where he was.

Right now, he was the rabbit, shivering in the night air, hiding from the hungry fox. If the police found him, they wouldn’t put him back in a cell this time. They’d shoot him dead, like a wild lion or bear.

Remember your safe place.

He nodded. He knew what to do. But he couldn’t lead the police there. They’d almost caught him once.

The rental had been perfect, with a one-stall garage without windows. He could come and go without anyone seeing him. Order food to be delivered.

But someone had seen. Someone had tracked him.

Stephen didn’t know how, but he’d had a plan.

Always have a secret way out. So when the stupid cops had been pounding on the doors, peeking into the windows, he’d been on the roof.

Easy to watch their movements and slip away from the side they weren’t checking.

But nothing else about the escape had been easy.

The sound of the chopper wasn’t as loud now.

He’d have to wait for it to go away before he left.

Stephen couldn’t be here in the morning.

He’d have to climb down the cliff at night.

There still could be police with flashlights at the top.

But if the helicopter went away, the cops might, too, to search somewhere else.

Then he’d find a way to the safe place. Only then could he put the SIM card back in his phone.

He’d need another car. Break in somewhere and steal the keys while the owner was sleeping. Windows were good. They often didn’t have alarms.

But first, he had to get away.

He stayed in position long enough for his legs to cramp.

When he tried to stretch them, one foot caught the barrier he’d formed, kicking part of it away.

He stilled, frozen in place. Drawing his leg closer, he leaned forward and peered out of one of the thin slits between the remaining bushes.

He could barely see the lights from the helicopter anymore.

It sounded far away. Just a while longer.

Then he could climb down. Careful. Careful.

He didn’t want to fall. There were paths in and out of the canyon.

Simple to find in the daylight, so it had to still be dark.

He’d climbed at night before. Lots of times.

Like to the beach with Greg and Crazy Legs.

He was a good climber. Another hour here, maybe, before the chopper gave up and flew away.

Then he’d find the safe place and call for help.

Soon, now. Very soon. And then he’d find three. He didn’t know how yet. Or where.

You’ll get her. And then she’ll pay.