Page 34 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)

JOHN

T he taste of his teacher’s strawberry ChapStick lingered on John’s lips as he pressed the button to open the garage door.

Seeing rain hit the driveway as the door began to lift, he ran back inside to grab his jacket.

When he returned, the door was fully raised, and he spotted his new nosy neighbor creeping slowly past his house in the station wagon that had been parked in her drive the last few days.

John stepped behind the hot water tank, wondering if she’d seen his English teacher leaving. He peered around the tank to see Holly had stopped in front of his driveway and was staring into his garage. Shit.

John stayed still until she accelerated down the street. He glanced in the direction of the house next door. I have got to be more careful.

He climbed into his dad’s spare car that would be John’s once he got his license.

It wasn’t legal for him to be driving alone, but he wanted something else for lunch than what they had in the fridge.

And with his dad at work while John was on spring break, he’d have to go to the store himself.

But driving without a license wasn’t what worried him about Holly Sparks spying into his garage.

At the start of the school year, he and his teacher had connected over their shared love of classic literature, but she’d been the one to come on to him.

After that, things had heated up fast. While John knew it was wrong, he’d let the affair continue.

But he needed to put a stop to it before someone found out.

From a young age, his father had instilled in him the belief that cops could not be trusted. But he should’ve taught John not to trust women either.

John started the Ford Fairmont’s engine and threw it into reverse. It had been a mistake letting his teacher come here. He couldn’t take the risk of someone seeing her again. Especially Holly Sparks.

When John got to the end of his street, he spotted Holly’s station wagon peeling out of their gated neighborhood onto the main road.

Where is she going in such a hurry? Wherever it is, it can’t be good, he thought as the station wagon disappeared from his view.

He eased his foot off the gas pedal, wanting to keep a good distance between his car and the crime writer’s. Rain splattered against the windshield as he drove through the opened gate.

As he drove toward Albertson’s, John tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, coming up with a plan to get Holly Sparks away from his dad for good.