CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"If we find out Jenkins is just sending us on a wild goose chase," Finn said as Sheila drove along the dark, winding road, "I'm going to have words with her."

You and I both, Sheila thought. She hated putting so much stock in Cassandra Jenkins, a woman who had not only lied to them about her knowledge of the crimes but also tried to kill them. Still, Jenkins' little show with the whiteboard had been convincing, even if Sheila had had a hard time following along. This lead might not pan out, but then again, if it did…

This case would be over in a hurry.

"The way I see it," she said, "we find one of two things: Either there's a body, or the place is deserted. If there's a body, we know Jenkins' theory is correct and we can have her predict the next location. If there's no body, we set up surveillance and see if the killer shows."

"And what if the place is deserted and the killer never shows?" Finn asked.

Sheila gave a shrug, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Then we know Jenkins was wrong and we're back to square one."

Silence fell between them. The night swallowed everything beyond the car's headlights, leaving their world narrowed down to the stretch of gravel beneath their tires and the sinister forest leering in on them from both sides.

Finn's fingers drummed again on his leg, a nervous habit that Sheila had come to recognize. His gaze was fixed out the window, scanning the darkness with a vigilant intensity.

Just as they rounded a sharp curve, Sheila slammed on the brakes. A figure darted out in the glow of their headlights, narrowly missing the front of their vehicle. The silhouette of what appeared to be a deer disappeared into the woods.

"Friggin' wildlife," Finn muttered, shaking his head.

"Sorry," Sheila said, feeling her heart pound in her chest. "I didn't see it soon enough."

Forcing herself to breathe slowly and evenly, she resumed driving, this time keeping a wary eye on their surroundings, watching for any signs of movement. The Slick River camping area came into sight, an unnaturally peaceful sanctuary under the glow of the half-moon.

"Kill the headlights," Finn said. Sheila did as he instructed, and they approached the entrance to the campground in darkness.

The place was a ghost town. Empty benches, abandoned fire pits, discarded beer cans littering the ground—but no bodies, no killer in sight.

Sheila parked the car behind a dense thicket so it wouldn't be easily spotted from the road. They got out, moving quietly through the deserted campsite toward the river. The moon cast long shadows on the ground, making everything look eerie in the soft silver light. The rustling of leaves and the distant hooting of an owl were the only sounds that dared to crash the foreboding silence draped around the woodland.

Sheila gripped her Glock, her other hand clasped around her flashlight. They moved closer toward the riverbank, and she swept her flashlight over the area. Nothing but untouched wilderness met their gaze.

"Think we're early?" Finn asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Could be," Sheila whispered back. "Then again, we don't know exactly where to search. It's a large campground—the body could be anywhere."

"If there is a body," Finn added grimly.

As they headed deeper into the campsite, Sheila's chest tightened, a cold sweat trickling down her spine despite the cool night. It felt like they were being watched, as though eyes were on them from all directions, unseen and silent.

Sheila spotted a cluster of tents further up ahead and motioned to Finn. They approached the tents and found them empty, just like the rest of the campground. The smell of damp earth hung heavy in the air, a warning of an impending storm. Clouds had obscured the moon, shrouding them in darkness, making the forest even more foreboding.

"Wait," she whispered, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She caught a fleeting movement from the corner of her eyes—something or someone at the riverbank.

Sheila and Finn shared a look before moving cautiously toward the river, navigating through undergrowth that was thick with shadows. As they came closer to the riverbank, Sheila's heart pounded in sync with the rushing river. A figure lay at the water's edge .

"Shit," Finn muttered under his breath.

It was the body of a young woman, her red hair curled around her head like a pool of fire. Nothing about the way she'd been left, however, resembled the victims from the other crime scenes. Her limbs were straight at her sides, and there were no symbols drawn on the ground around her. There were no herbs on her body, either.

"We interrupted him," Sheila whispered as a lump formed in her throat. "He's still here, nearby."

Finn's gaze darted toward the surrounding forest, his hand tightening around his weapon. The river rushed along, oblivious to their grim discovery, while an impending sense of danger electrified the air around them.

As the beam of Finn's flashlight swept across the far bank, it suddenly illuminated a figure standing among the trees.

"There!" Finn shouted, his voice sharp with surprise.

As soon as the light hit it, the figure turned and disappeared into the dense foliage.

"Come on!" Sheila yelled, already running toward the river. Without hesitation, she plunged into the cool water, which immediately fought to pull her downstream. She sank deeper, the water rising all the way up to her armpits…

And then she stepped forward and felt nothing beneath her. She sank beneath the water and felt herself being carried away by the current. Panic clawed at her as she kicked desperately, fighting to resurface.

A hand grabbed her arm, and for a moment she was in a tug-of-war: the river pulling her one way, the hand on her arm pulling her another. Then she found solid footing and pushed herself upward, breaking the surface. Eyes stinging, breath sputtering, she found herself back on the riverbank in Finn's grasp.

"Easy," Finn said. "You're okay."

"We have to go after him," Sheila insisted between gasps. "We have to catch him."

"Easy," Finn said again, tightening his grip on her. "He's gone."

Sheila shook her head, struggling to break free from Finn's grasp. "No, we can't just let him—"

"It's too late," Finn said. He stepped back and let Sheila go. "We need to call for backup. We can't swim this river in the dark, and even if we could, it doesn't make sense to chase him around in the dark woods by ourselves. "

Sheila took a moment to steady herself, her adrenaline-fueled nerves slowly calming down. Finn was right, though she hated to admit it. They had not been prepared for this. They needed more manpower.

"Okay," she said, swallowing hard. "But I want roadblocks set up right away. We need to get as many people out here as we can, set up a manhunt through these woods. It's about time we became the hunters."

***

"It's a big forest," the ranger said, scratching his forehead with a thumbnail. "He could hit a logging trail and take it back to a road, maybe hitchhike. Not many vehicles this time of night, but he could get lucky."

The three of them—Sheila, Finn, and a ranger named Otis Leary, who had been stationed in a lodge nearby and had responded when the call went out to form a search party, were gathered around the hood of Leary's truck, across which he had spread a weathered map. Finn was shining a flashlight on the map while Sheila clutched a blanket around herself and shivered, trying to get warm. A number of searchers, including local police and volunteers, were on their way to help with the manhunt, but for now it was just the three of them.

"What's the best place to cross the river?" Finn asked.

"There's a footbridge about half a mile upstream," Leary replied, pointing at the map. "Next bridge is about five miles."

"So we cross there," Finn said, nodding. "We'll get patrols on those roads, keep watch on the logging trails, and hunt him down. He's got nowhere to run."

Sheila said nothing, troubled.

"Alright," Leary said, rolling up the map. "You want me to join you?"

Finn shook his head. "You stay here, start gathering a search party as people come in. We'll head to the footbridge and wait for backup. And keep an eye on that body—we don't need anybody mucking up the crime scene."

"Sounds like a plan," Leary said, tipping his hat. "Be careful out there."

As Leary climbed back into his truck to drive to the entrance of the campground, Sheila stared down at the river below and chewed her lip.

"What's wrong?" Finn asked.

"I don't know. I just feel like we're missing something. "

"I'm telling you, he's in that forest. He's reliant on the cover of trees and darkness. He won't try to make a run for it on foot across open roads, not until he's desperate."

Sheila went on chewing her lip, saying nothing.

"The best way to get him out of there is to trap him," Finn continued. "We'll corner him from all sides: search parties from the north and south, patrols on the roads and logging trails. We've got the bastard, Sheila. We've got him."

"Why was he just standing there on the bank of the river, watching us?"

Finn frowned. "Probably trying to figure out who we were. What else would he be doing?"

"I don't know," Sheila murmured. "It almost seems like he was…luring us. Trying to get us to go into that forest."

"Why would he want to do that? If he thinks he can pick us off, he's got another thing coming."

Sheila crossed her arms against her chest, her face scrunching in thought. "I don't know. It's just a feeling."

"Well, stop second-guessing yourself. We're going to get him."

"Okay," Sheila said, doing her best to put on a brave face. But inwardly, she wondered if they weren't making a terrible mistake.