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ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR

He wanted to kill the bitch right here and now. Leave her bloody body on the ground with the fed.

But the sound of a car engine and tires skating over gravel told him he had to get the hell out of here. That she must have called for back-up.

No time to kill her and escape without getting caught.

He threw her body over his shoulder and ran back toward the van he’d stashed in the woods so it wasn’t visible from the road. Although she was a pint-sized woman, her dead weight slowed him, but he managed to make it into the woods. He threw her in the back, grabbed her weapon and slammed and locked the door, then ran to the driver’s seat, jumped in and took off.

Gravel and dirt spewed from his tires as he careened down the road.

The dark clouds burst open and unleashed a deluge of rain, slowing him slightly. But it might provide cover if the police were looking for him.

Rain pelted the windshield, coming down in a blinding haze. Mixed with fog and the black storm clouds, the road was difficult to see. Good thing he knew the area well.

He veered onto a side road and pulled beneath some trees, waiting. Seconds ticked by. His heart pounded. The blood roared in his ears drowning out the sound of thunder.

The sound of the oncoming car engine broke through the thunder as it raced by. He counted the seconds. Thunder popped. Lightning zigzagged across the sky in jagged streaks.

The car finally passed, its noise fading as it churned up the graveled road. He waited a few more seconds, then shifted back into Drive and headed back down the mountain.

Adrenaline pumped through him wild and fast. Rain poured. Headlights from another vehicle bled through the downpour. He sped on.

Nothing would slow him down.

A clunking sound came from the back of the van as he hit a pothole. He pictured the cop being thrown across the floor and smiled.

Ten minutes later, he spun onto the road leading to his uncle’s abandoned chicken farm. He threw the van into park near the chicken house where he’d left the girls, then tugged his raincoat up to cover his head and raced around the van to unlock the back.

As soon as he opened the door, she lunged at him with a wild ass scream like a banshee. The impact knocked him down and she jumped on him, fists flying, the two of them rolling in the mud.

He cursed, grabbed her hair and yanked her hard. As small as she was, she packed a hard punch. He threw her onto her back and tried to pin her down, but she kicked and bucked and scratched at his face.

Rage boiled inside him. The bitch would not win this fight.

He punched her so hard this time she collapsed, face first in the mud.

Heart hammering, anger fueled him and he flipped her over. The blow had rendered her unconscious, but she was still alive.

Not for long.

He could end her now.

Pure rage tore at his gut.

No… that would be too easy.

His breath huffed out as he scooped her up. His boots squished with mud and rainwater as he hauled her inside.

He’d seen her damn face on the TV too many times the past two years. She’d become infamous for solving crimes and arresting serial killers.

Even if he escaped, she wouldn’t stop until she found him. He didn’t intend to be looking over his shoulder the rest of his life. He’d end Barbara and the girls, then get as far away from this god-awful place and Coal Mountain as he could.

Pride puffed his chest. Then he’d be famous as the one who finally took down Detective Reeves.