Page 129 of Fragile Sanctuary

His face was a mask of barely restrained fury. “We’re ending this. Now. If we wait for the cops to come, he’ll probably be long gone. Stay here, keep the windows covered.”

“Anson…”

He tugged me toward him, kissing me fast and hard. “I’ll be back.”

My stomach dropped as he stalked silently toward the front door. He locked it behind him, leaving me alone except for Biscuit. I quickly tapped my phone screen, hitting Trace’s contact. He answered on the second ring.

“You all right?”

I could hear voices in the background and wondered if he was still at the crime scene. “Anson saw someone on the cameras outside my house. He went after them. He said to call you and tell you he was in pursuit and has a gun.”

Trace cursed. “Idiot. Should’ve waited for backup.”

“He’s out there, Trace,” I croaked.

“I’m on my way. I’ll inform dispatch,” Trace said. “Rho, stay where you are.”

“I will. I?—”

A crack pierced the air. Like a clap of thunder but fainter. A gun. A bullet.

I was already running, promises be damned.

42

ANSON

I racedthrough the field behind Rho’s house, the figure in front of me nothing but a dark outline in his hoodie and jeans. “Stop!” I barked.

The figure didn’t listen; he kept right on running. It was a damn good thing I’d been running out my demons on the trails near my cabin; otherwise, this guy would’ve easily left me in the dust.

That in and of itself gave me information. Young. Able-bodied. Likely an athlete or at least someone who stayed in shape.

A list of suspects began building in my mind. I hadn’t wanted to ask Rho about any of the people on my short list because I hadn’t wanted to put doubts in her mind about people she knew. Not when the unsub could’ve just as easily been someone she’d never even talked to.

People could fixate without any true relationship. They would build something out of nothing in their mind. And it could so easily be twisted.

The figure in front of me caught his footon a log and cursed.

More information. Definitely male. Not that my half-completed profile suggested anything else.

I gained on him, my muscles burning as I pushed harder.

Something flew in my direction as I ran. I ducked just in time as a rock whizzed past me, grazing my cheek. I couldn’t help the curse I spat.

How the hell had he managed to get his hands on a rock? When he tripped?

At least that told me he likely didn’t have a weapon. But he was also desperate, so who knew what he’d do?

My mind moved through countless psychological equations. A million different possible outcomes based on the circumstances. There was no way I could know for sure how he’d react to any given stimuli. I just had to take my best guess.

We were fifty yards from the tree line, give or take. It was now or never because he’d soon have coverage.

I stopped dead in my tracks and lifted my weapon. I aimed at the tree ahead of the figure and squeezed the trigger. The release of the bullet sent a crack through the air.

The recoil was familiar, the bite into my muscles.

The man spat a slew of curses but didn’t stop. He only ran faster.

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