The darkness gave Maggie an advantage. Down here the moonlight broke through in rare streaks which Maggie tried to avoid. Her eyes had adjusted but some parts of the forest floor remained too dark to see. She still had to depend on her other senses, feeling her way as much as seeing.
When had it gotten so cold? It seeped beneath her shirt. And why had she worn shorts? Her knees were scraped raw, her legs scratched and bleeding. She heard her teeth chattering. She needed to keep moving.
The ache had not left her chest, but the night sounds worked to her advantage as well. The constant chirp of cicadas covered her raspy breathing and the crackling of dried leaves underfoot. She felt like someone was watching her. Stalking her. It couldn’t be Griffin. She could still see the jumps of the flashlight beam shooting over the ridge. He hadn’t come down, instead trying to find her from above.
At first he called her name. Made promises that quickly turned to taunts. Then he cursed her. But he didn’t venture down the steep slope. She wasn’t na?ve enough to think that she had an edge on him. He knew this forest. He would know a shortcut, guess her direction.
She had recognized the goggles in the back of the SUV—infrared night vision. Could he see her? Was it that easy to track her movement? Maybe he was simply waiting for the right time to pounce. Perhaps he was letting her run out of energy. She’d put up less of a fight. She expected him at every turn. Thought she saw a shadow standing behind trees. Swore she could hear his footsteps catching up with her.
She wanted to hide, find someplace she could curl into a tight ball. Bury herself under branches and leaves. Keep herself warm with pine needles. Wait until morning. Her muscles screamed at her to do just that. The pain in her shoulder had taken on a life of its own. She tried to block it out.
Breathe. Keep moving. Listen. It became her mantra.
When she came out into a clearing she skidded to a stop. She saw a building, but no movement. No lights. She moved back into the forest, hid behind a tree, and stared at the corrugated metal. It was like a mirage. She wondered if she might be seeing things.
Then she remembered—there was a nursery out here. And a field house. Lucy had told her about it. She couldn’t remember what it was. The Taser had blocked off portions of her memory.
She tried to concentrate. Griffin had said something about the field house. That he wanted to keep the teenagers away from it. Why? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. He had a connection to this place. He had to know she would stumble across it. That she’d be tempted to consider it as a shelter. In fact, he probably counted on it.
And yet, she had to believe there would be something inside she could use to cut her wrists free. And warmth. If only for a few minutes.
CHAPTER 65
NEBRASKA
The darkness gave Maggie an advantage. Down here the moonlight broke through in rare streaks which Maggie tried to avoid. Her eyes had adjusted but some parts of the forest floor remained too dark to see. She still had to depend on her other senses, feeling her way as much as seeing.
When had it gotten so cold? It seeped beneath her shirt. And why had she worn shorts? Her knees were scraped raw, her legs scratched and bleeding. She heard her teeth chattering. She needed to keep moving.
The ache had not left her chest, but the night sounds worked to her advantage as well. The constant chirp of cicadas covered her raspy breathing and the crackling of dried leaves underfoot. She felt like someone was watching her. Stalking her. It couldn’t be Griffin. She could still see the jumps of the flashlight beam shooting over the ridge. He hadn’t come down, instead trying to find her from above.
At first he called her name. Made promises that quickly turned to taunts. Then he cursed her. But he didn’t venture down the steep slope. She wasn’t na?ve enough to think that she had an edge on him. He knew this forest. He would know a shortcut, guess her direction.
She had recognized the goggles in the back of the SUV—infrared night vision. Could he see her? Was it that easy to track her movement? Maybe he was simply waiting for the right time to pounce. Perhaps he was letting her run out of energy. She’d put up less of a fight. She expected him at every turn. Thought she saw a shadow standing behind trees. Swore she could hear his footsteps catching up with her.
She wanted to hide, find someplace she could curl into a tight ball. Bury herself under branches and leaves. Keep herself warm with pine needles. Wait until morning. Her muscles screamed at her to do just that. The pain in her shoulder had taken on a life of its own. She tried to block it out.