Page 185 of Our Little Secret

Stunned, he swung wildly.

She hit him again; then, using his knife, she slashed.

The sharp blade sliced across his chest.

He roared in pain and fell backward, still clutching the axe.

Stumbling up, he swung again, but she was already out the back door and into the blizzard.

Across the deck, slipping and sliding, plowing through the snow, she headed for the forest. Her phone, deep in her pocket, was useless to call or text, but she hoped that someone could find her through the location device.

And she still had the knife and the poker.

If she could use them.

The wind was brutal, screaming through the trees and rattling the branches. Frozen limbs slapped at her or broke off, scraping at her arms and legs as she plowed on, along the narrow path, snow falling from the sky and falling from the laden branches.

He was behind her.

And he had a light.

From the corner of her eye she saw the beam bouncing along the trail she’d broken through the snow.

But he was wounded.

How severely she didn’t know, but it was enough to slow him down. And she knew the island so much better than he. If she could circle around to the landing and the houses that were occupied, she might have a chance. Someone might help her. But he was close.

She heard him crashing through the undergrowth.

Run, run, run.

Up through the trees to the dunes, where frozen blades of dune grass shivered and the sea stretched out endlessly. White caps showed on the roiling dark water and the roar of the ocean pounding the shore thundered over the howling wind.

She’d lost track of Shep.

She’d seen his paw prints entering the woods, but then they’d disappeared. She couldn’t think about what might have happened to him, her loyal dog. Even he was a victim to this madness, she thought as she took note that she was leaving her own footprints. Even if she could outrun this monster, he would track her down relentlessly.

Relentless.

Obsessed.

He would follow her to the ends of the earth.

Until her fate was the same as that of Emme Cosgrove, whose body was, Brooke believed, lost somewhere in the deep sea among the islands of Polynesia.

On the beach she realized her mistake. She’d been so freaked out that she’d run out here by instinct. But on the unbroken shoreline she was an open target. Out here there was no hiding.

Except...

There was a place she’d gone as a child, a spot in the beach grass and brush on a dune that she and Leah had called the cave. It wasn’t a cave at all but an opening in the thick Scotch broom that grew on the dunes.

Would it still be here?

Would it provide cover?

Even if she did find it, would it be a dead end where she’d be trapped?

If it worked she might be able to get away and back to the houses that were occupied. If not . . .