“Come on now, Ms. Maxwell. It doesn’t have to be like this. Just come on out. I don’t have to kill you.”
What was the killer talking about? He’d already tried to kill her twice. Did he really think she’d turn around and walk into his clutches? Either he wasn’t giving her any credit at all or else she was giving him way too much credit. Somehow, Caitlin didn’t expect a killer to be that stupid.
“This can go any way you want it, Ms. Maxwell. You can walk out of here and go with me. I’ll guarantee your safety. On the other hand, you can force me to hunt you down in which case I’ll just have to kill you.”
Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light filtering through the branches. The branches thinned nearer the ground. She’d make better time crawling. She eased forward, still moving directly away from the street and the sound of the killer’s voice. “My patience is wearing thin, Ms. Maxwell. If you want to live, you’re going to have to come out in the next thirty seconds.”
Caitlin’s purse strap caught on a branch and for a moment she considering leaving it, but it held everything, her money, her cellular, her credit cards, her computer ... all the things she’d need if she escaped this maniac. She pulled it free and slipped its strap tighter against her.
“Twenty seconds.” His voice came from slightly to her left now. What was he doing? Looking for a way through the oleander?
Caitlin crawled two, then three more feet, and stopped. Right in front of her, a tiny path, a game trail, cut through the brush. She’d seen enough of them in her childhood to recognize it. What kind of animals did they have in the park? She wasn’t sure, but it may have been a rabbit path. Regardless, it was big enough to follow.
She turned toward the right, away from the killer’s voice. She crawled faster now, but still moved the brush around her as gently as possible.
“Five seconds.”
His voice was farther away, but it didn’t sound as if he was still on the sidewalk. Had he found a path around the undergrowth? Her breathing came faster. Her pulse quickened. Caitlin knew she was in danger of losing it. That might get her killed. She had to remain calm. She must maintain control. Control was crucial. Panic and you die. Panic and you die.
She drummed the phrase repeatedly into her mind until it obscured all else. Her breathing steadied. Her pulse slowed. Although she continued to crawl as fast as she dared, her breathing and pulse now matched her exertion level, rather than her level of fear.
The last five seconds ticked by, but the killer remained quiet. Caitlin wished he’d keep talking. It gave her his position and improved her chances of not coming out from under the oleander right in front of him.
She paused for a second, listening, straining to hear over the sound of her own breathing. Nothing. Either he had moved farther away, or he was standing still waiting for some sound that would reveal her position.
Caitlin moved again. A few feet farther and she pulled free of the brush.
She faced a small walkway. Although it was brighter than the rabbit trail, fog still draped the walk, and the nearest light shone vaguely off to her right. She hesitated, looking for motion and listening for any sound.
Nothing.
Caitlin eased out onto the path and got her feet under her, but she remained crouched. The last time she’d heard from the killer, he’d been moving downhill, away from her. She turned uphill and moved toward the light.
She wanted to run, but her shoes made a slight sound against the pavement no matter how carefully she walked. Running would surely bring the killer.
Her thoughts turned to the future for the first time since she’d seen the killer in the back seat of the cab. The police would listen to her now. Assuming she lived long enough to reach them. That Ferguson woman would believe her this time too. With the cabby murdered, everything changed. None of them could ignore her. She’d have the police back in her room. They’d do a thorough investigation this time. The killer must have left some evidence of his break-in. The police could track him down. They would. They must. Then she would be on the next plane out of San Francisco, and back to Albuquerque. Home. Where she was safe.
Her thoughts came back to the here and now as she neared the light. Thirty feet from the light she stopped. The curvy rabbit trail had tricked her. She was back on the street near where she had started.
She saw a tiny movement at the point that the path and sidewalk met. She prayed that it was just the wind moving the brush, but the wind, while still moving the treetops, moved nothing beneath the canopy.
Caitlin felt her pulse leap again. She eased carefully to the side of the path and willed herself to vanish into the thick leaves of the oleander, pressing back against them as if they would part to allow her through.
Panic and you die. Panic and you die.
Caitlin watched the spot where the movement had occurred. Was that spot of brush darker than the rest? Maybe it was just a dog. Yeah, it might be just a dog.
She heard the sound of a car engine coming slowly up the hill. Headlights illuminated the fog with a ghostly glow and beams of light danced around the brush until one struck the shadows at the end of the trail.
The killer rose into the light like some creature rising out of the depths. The long barreled handgun was in his right hand.
Caitlin pressed tighter into the
