The whisper seemed to ring through the leaves and become part of the rustle of the forest.
“Come out, Amy, come out. Come and see, come and see!”
Anger overrode fear.
She wanted very much to smack Ethan Morrison in his smug face, and tell him that his interpretation of the Bible was skewed, at best.
And she was furious with herself. Sure, she’d downed Zeke Morrison, but he was just sad, so sad. For a fleeting moment, she wondered about using the man’s son against him, shouting out that she had Zeke, what did he think of that?
Nothing, she knew. A man like Morrison might let his son die in his quest to achieve his own agenda.
And did she have Zeke?
She was back at the tree where she’d left Billie, and to have reached that spot, she’d passed the trail where she’d taken Zeke down with the hook.
Carefully, she moved back, following her footsteps, finding that place where she had hidden before, waiting for Zeke.
He wasn’t there.
Squatting down, she discovered blood drops on the trees and blood saturating part of the ground.
Zeke was gone.
Morrison had taken Billie; he had her for sure. That was why he could be so mocking in his whisper.
He had to know by now that officers and agents would be searching for her.
Did he care? Did he have an escape plan, and had he set another in motion for all those who had followed him to die, either through a gun battle or suicide?
“Come out, Amy. Come and see!”
She could follow the sound of the whisper. And walk right into someone waiting for her along the way.
But if other agents were in the forest as she suspected, they would be following the sound of the whisper, as well.
She waited, dead still, listening.
“I’m going to start cutting Billie very soon, Amy. Or you can be the very special ‘special’ agent you’re supposed to be and give me your life for hers!”
Amy began to move in the direction from which she thought the whisper was coming.
Slowly. So slowly. Carefully, looking ahead with every step—and then behind her, as well.
She knew it was coming; she was prepared when a young man stepped out in front of her, grinning, a shotgun aimed at her chest.
It was Jayden Colby.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” she told him calmly.
“No?” he demanded, but a frown furrowed his brow. “You—you’re coming with me. I am going to shoot you if you don’t get right in front of me and walk.”
“No.”
“I will kill you!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t test me!” he said, swearing softly.
“You’re not a murderer,” she told him.
“Get in front of me—and walk.”
He waved the gun in front of her. Amy shrugged and slowly turned her back to him. And then she spun as quickly as she could, slamming the shotgun hard against him.
He fell back; the shotgun fell.
Amy lunged for the gun, grabbing it up as Jayden staggered forward, and she slammed the stock against his skull.
He fell flat on the forest floor without so much as a whimper.
“Amy!”
She heard her name called again. She picked up the shotgun and started forward.
* * *
The whisper was eerie; Hunter didn’t have to wonder from what direction it was coming.
He did wonder if the man knew—he had to suspect, at the least—that law enforcement was in the forest.
But he didn’t have Amy. If he did, he wouldn’t be calling out to her.
He did, apparently, have the missing Billie.
Whispering softly himself, he hit speed dial to reach Garza.
“I’ll have men positioned,” Garza said wearily. “I fear a bloodbath.”
“I will do everything in my power, sir, to see that such a thing doesn’t happen. But we need to move into the clearing. Whatever he’s planning, it’s about to happen. He might not have committed any of the murders thus far, but he plans on killing now. And, I believe, to be as open as he is now, he thinks he has an escape plan.”
“Do you think Amy will go after the voice?” Garza asked.
“Yes. She’ll try to save Billie,” Hunter said. “Even if she knows that he’ll kill them both, she’ll follow that whisper.”
“I figured as much.”
“I’m moving back there now,” Hunter told him. “Most of the people aren’t armed, but he does have that contingent around the trees.”
“I’ve ordered a circular route, a man for a man,” Garza told him.
“Try to take them out before all hell breaks loose.”
He ended the call and began his careful walk back to the clearing. There would be guards along the way; if they hadn’t been there before, they’d be there now.
Morrison really wanted Amy dead.
Ahead, Hunter saw movement. Slight. He stilled. It could have been a possum or raccoon or other denizen of the forest.
It could have been.
But it was not.
An armed man was waiting by the tree, possibly growing bored of being a sentinel. Hunter watched as he shifted his weight back and forth, back and forth. He was armed with an assault rifle.
Hunter slipped off the trail. The going was rough; he couldn’t make any noise, and the way was strewn with roots and vegetation.
But neither could he take what was more than a trail; he’d be seen far too easily.
Finally, he was almost within arm’s length of the man.
He waited, he watched, for the bored swinging motion the man was making on his feet, to the left, to the right, to the left, to the right...
To the left.
Hunter sprang forward, strategically slamming the man hard on the head.
The assault rifle fell just seconds before the man collapsed without a sound.
Collecting the rifle, Hunter moved forward again.
* * *
The woods were large and thick—larger and thicker, Amy thought, than what Morrison’s population were capable of managing.
She reached the outskirts of the clearing and made a careful observation.
The clearing was almost a perfect circle. If it hadn’t been by nature, it had been made so by man.