Hunter/Prey

Chapter 3

The truck was big and black and shiny. The front grill was outfitted to take on lesser-size vehicles, and although her back bumper was a twisted wreck, there was barely any noticeable damage on his hood. Staring at it (was something like this even legal?), she thought it was a minor miracle she had managed to stay on the road and drag the chase out for as long as she had.

The driver-side door had been left open, and inside she found an empty can of Red Bull in the cup holder. The key was nowhere to be found and the ceiling light had turned off, so she had to use the Maglite to sift through the glove compartment. There was a roll of paper towels inside, an unopened pack of gum, and a pair of brand new black leather gloves. There was no insurance paper or ID, nothing that would tell her who he was.

Not that it mattered. She knew exactly who he was even if she didn’t know his name. That was superfluous information she could find out after he was dead and she had finished hauling his lifeless corpse to the nearest police station.

She crawled out of the truck. The vehicle was buried deep enough in the woods that it was hidden from the highway nearby. The black paint would help to keep it mostly invisible for the rest of the night and early morning, though an alert passerby would easily spot it in the morning.

Have to finish it before then.

That was always the plan, anyway. She had always given herself one night to do everything she needed to do. After that, it might be difficult to keep the authorities at bay even in this part of the country.

Now all she had to do was find him, and then she could go back to her life. Or what passed for one. She was being overly generous calling it a life. Most of the past decade had been consumed with finding him, luring him, and killing him. After that…

Well, she’d figure that one out later.

Right now, there was just the hunt, and she swore she could smell his blood in the air. Was this what it was like for him when he stalked his prey? Was she slipping into his skin without realizing it?

That thought should have terrified her, but instead it gave her a surge of renewed energy.

She went back to her car and pulled the gym bag out of the backseat. She leaned the shotgun against the Ford and took out the black cargo pants and gray T-shirt and put them on. The black wool-knitted sweater finished off her wardrobe change, and she shoved the jeans and blouse into the bag. Finally, she swapped the leather loafers for a pair of black Nike sneakers.

She closed the car door and locked it back up, which made her smile when she saw the broken driver-side window.

The shotgun had six spare rounds in the shell carrier along its side, and she reloaded the weapon now. Then she swapped her large Maglite for a more portable version and grabbed a roll of duct tape from the bag. She fastened the flashlight against the barrel of the shotgun and wrapped it into place, then flicked it on.

One night to finish this.

Get it done!

It didn’t take very long to pick up his bloody trail. The Maglite was ridiculously bright, and she shone it across the woods just in case he had retraced his steps and attempted a full-frontal attack to reclaim the upper hand. That was unlikely, though; he was hurt and bleeding and was probably only armed with the knife, or otherwise he would have stayed and fought her if he had a gun on him. But it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially when she was dealing with a man who was more beast than human.

She started off, moving as quietly as she could while still picking up her pace with each step.

The world around her got darker the further she journeyed away from the highway. Without any source of light other than the moonlight and her LED beam to guide her, she became quickly aware of every sound around her, including the ones she made. She was at least comforted by the fact that she had it better than him. He hadn’t been carrying a flashlight when he made his escape, or at least none that she had seen.

And besides, she had the shotgun. It didn’t matter how big or fast or tough you were. Everyone was reduced to dead against a loaded shotgun. It was the reason she had chosen it instead of a handgun. Up close and personal, there was nothing more devastating.

She glanced at her watch: 9:16 P.M.

The loud rumbling of a vehicle behind her made her freeze in place and look over her shoulder. Bright lights flashed by along the road — just for a split second before the semitrailer disappeared up the state highway, taking its lights with it. She stayed still until the vehicle was little more than a slight hum in the universe…then it was gone, and she was once again alone with the woods and her slightly elevated breathing to keep her company.

She faced forward again and changed up her grip on the Remington. It was a heavy gun — almost eight pounds and eighteen inches long. The matted black color made it ideal for night hunting, and you wouldn’t know it existed until it started spitting fire. Dragon breath, the ex-cop who had trained her on the weapon called it. The most difficult part of firing a shotgun was the recoil. Learning how to quickly and efficiently rack it using the forend also took some effort. In the end, it was all about repetition and determination. Luckily, she had the time and willpower to commit both.

The blood splatter had no real trajectory, so she guessed he was just stumbling his way through the woods. Which made sense. Not allowing him to force her off the road two miles back had pulled him away from whatever plan he had set up. Maybe he had even picked out a place and gotten familiar with it.

That was the point, after all. They were both in unknown territory now, so that made them even.

Well, not really, because she had the shotgun.

She stopped again. The bloody drops had gotten smaller and were appearing at longer intervals. They had also started to take a noticeably right angle. She stood perfectly still and listened, trying to pick up any noise besides the chirping of birds above her and the scurrying of animals along the branches and among the bushes, reacting to her and his presence.

Nothing. There was nothing.

So where was he going?

Then she heard something that made her turn her head slightly.

It sounded like a laugh.

Or a chuckle.

A trick? Was he was lying in wait for her somewhere out there, hoping to draw her over?

He wasn’t stupid. Careless and too sure of himself, yes, but then she had gone to great lengths to put him into that state of mind. But most of it was probably his own doing: All those victims, all those times he had gotten away with it, no doubt played a heavy part in his overconfidence.

She had to be even more careful from this moment on. She had been operating on automatic pilot for the last few minutes, filled with bravado and thinking she was the hunter and not the prey. He could change all that in a heartbeat.

Besides, she could afford to be deliberate. She had a whole night to finish him off. How far could he go in his current state? He was a wounded animal, and from all the evidence she’d seen so far, she had gotten him pretty good. A hospital was out of the question. Gunshot wounds were reported to the police, and as much as she didn’t need the authorities out here screwing things up, he wanted that even less. Questions always led to more questions, and once the cops looked into his past, it would be game over regardless of how careful he had been over the last ten years.

No. This was going to end with one of them dead at the other’s hands. She knew that without a single doubt in her mind.

She started off again, this time at a slower pace, keeping her eyes moving and never on one spot for more than a second each time. Her ears were attuned to any and every noise around and above and to the sides of her.

He was out there, somewhere, and she would find him.

One night.

One night to finish this…