Page 101 of The Search

“Go.” She spurted ahead and out on the concrete tarmac. A car she recognized was parked beside the building. Henry Smith’s car, and he was sitting behind the wheel.

Thank God.

She glanced over her shoulder as she ran toward Smith’s car.

No one.

But someone was there. She knew it. She could feel it.

She pounded on the window of the car as Monty bounded excitedly around her.

Smith didn’t look at her. Why the hell didn’t he—

Because there was a small round hole in his temple.

She backed away from the car.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Smith dead. Chavez dead.

And someone was back there in the woods, watching, coming closer.

“Sarah.”

She whirled and threw her flashlight at the man coming toward her.

Logan grunted as the flashlight struck him in the chest. “Dammit, that hurt. Why couldn’t you—”

“Logan.” She threw herself into his arms. “Dead. They’re all—” She couldn’t stop shaking. “And he’s out there. He was running after—” She tore out of his arms. “We have to get out of the light. I thought I was safe. He has a knife. . . . But Smith was shot. He must have a gun too.”

“Easy,” Logan said. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“The hell they’re not.” Logan. No one must hurt Logan. She couldn’t bear it if— She pulled him toward the building. “Get inside.”

He only moved to stand in front of her. “It’s safe.” His gaze raked the woods surrounding them. “Look up the road.”

Headlights. Two Sheriff’s Department patrol cars were coming toward them.

She went limp with relief.

“I called them when I started down that screwed-up road. I wanted to be able to find you without scouring the entire lake area. They said they’d meet me here.” He turned to face her. “Now talk to me. Slowly and clearly. Who’s dead?”

Her knees felt as if they wouldn’t hold her. She leaned back against the fender of the car. “Chavez. And Smith. He’s in the car. I thought he was the one following me. He said no one but him had followed me from the ranch, but there must have been—”

“Shh, just a minute.” He went around the car, took out a handkerchief, then carefully opened the driver’s door and looked inside. “Christ.” He slammed the door and turned back to her. “And Chavez?”

“In the woods. Behind some boulders. My fault. I sent him out there alone.”

“Show me.”

“I don’t know if I can find it.” She rubbed her temple. “But Monty can.” Poor Monty, he would hate going back to Chavez’s body. She had promised him life and brought him only more death. “If it’s safe for him. I’m not going to have some crazy loon shooting at my dog.”

“He’s not crazy. And when he sees all those troopers, he’ll leave as quickly as he can.”

“How do you know? You think it’s Rudzak, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?”