Page 98 of The Hunted

The Reaper watched the local PD scurry around trying to secure the scene from the on-lookers. They kept pushing people back even as the crowd continued to grow. Humans had such a morbid curiosity. Everyone around the Reaper seemed to want to catch a glimpse of the corpse. They wanted an intimate peek at what death looked like on a stranger. It was intriguing considering everyone the Reaper ever came in contact with had a fear of death. It was really the fear of the unknown but gawking at a white sheet in hopes of getting a glimpse of what was left behind wouldn’t give them any answers either.

The local PD and FBI wouldn’t find answers to their own questions. Santino Alvarez didn’t leave anything behind.

Except a note.

Sarah Brown’s body was displayed at the fair just like Denise Miller’s body. It was a risky move to prop the body up here. It was predictable and an easy way to get caught.

But he wanted to get caught.

Not by the local PD or the FBI.

But by the Reaper.

He’d figured out who they were, and there was no mistaking it—their game was about to come to a head.

Which was fine. It was time to end this anyway. Peel off the masks and let the world see who they really were.

Saint Alonso and Shea Moore. Better known to the world as Santino Alvarez and Silva Hunt.

You think you’re so clever.

Hiding in plain sight.

I give you your props

You fooled them all,

Even me.

I thought you were something else.

Something that could be more

Turns out,

You’re just like the rest.

Let’s turn this game around

I’ll give you a head start.

Run rabbit, run.

ChapterThirty-Seven

He pointed toward the fair, a smile tugging at his lips. He’d never been to one before. He’d never been in a foster home with so many other children his age that actually talked to him, either. The last couple of homes he’d been in, they were all scared of him, but not here. They all seemed to stick together, especially him and Shea.

She’d taken to him immediately. Her different color eyes were wild and mesmerizing to look at. Her mass of brown hair was never done and stuck out around her round face, unless she was going out on a trip. She had frequent trips, her and the other girls that were there. Occasionally one of the boys would tag along, but it was mostly girls and she was always sad when she came back.

But he thought she looked pretty in her dresses and with her hair done up in pigtails or two braids he liked to tug on to get her attention.

She was his favorite person.

She gave him her extra sunflower seeds because she figured out that he liked them. She didn’t shy away when she caught him killing the small animals that snuck into the basement. She showed him a better way to deliver the death blow. She held him tight when his nightmares woke him up from his sleep and knew how to communicate with him even though he hated talking.

Shea was his best friend.

“The fair isn’t for us, Saint.” She looked so sad, and all he wanted to do was make her smile. “At least not like the rest of the kids that can come here.” She grabbed his hand. “Maybe one day they’ll let us come here for fun, but it’s never fun for us. I’m sorry.”