Page 51 of Nothing Hiding

Wyatt was closer to the door than she was, and he turned just as Juliette uttered the words. She followed him out, breaking into a run, knowing that they needed to catch this man, whose woods were his territory, who she suspected of committing these murders, and who was planning a terrible fate for the other women posted on his cabin's wall.

Doone had darted down a pathway that Juliette hadn't even noticed. The only reason she saw it now was that Wyatt, quick off the mark and able to see which way he'd turned, crashed through what seemed like a solid bush but wasn't. Its leafy fronds gave way to reveal a narrow track beyond.

She could hear Doone's footsteps ahead, his ragged breaths as he ran, his footsteps rustling the leaves on the forest floor.

The smell of pine needles filled the air, and the trees around them grew so thick that they had to dodge through the narrow spaces between them.

They couldn't let Doone get away now. Not when they were so close to catching him. But these woods were like a labyrinth—this was true, old forest that he'd made his own by terrifying the villagers into staying away, and he clearly knew all the shortcuts and bolt holes.

As the path twisted, she caught tantalizing glimpses of him ahead, powering through the deep overgrowth, his lean frame darting between the trees like a hunted animal.

The chase seemed never-ending, each step taking them farther into the dark and misty woods. Juliette could feel the sweat on her forehead and the burn in her legs as she pushed herself harder, determined not to let Doone slip away, hoping that Wyatt had him in sight.

Wyatt was a few feet ahead of Juliette, his long strides eating up the ground as he ran the twisting, turning route.

And then, disaster.

Wyatt stumbled, his foot twisting in a hole that was invisible, camouflaged by one of the tree roots. He tried his best to right himself but tumbled down, sprawling onto his side as Juliette skidded to a stop, breathing hard.

"You okay?" she asked as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’m okay, but where is he? Where the hell’s he gone?” Wyatt panted. “The reason I fell in the damned hole was because I was looking around and trying to spot him!”

The woods around them were quiet. No sign of movement, no sound of footsteps.

Doone had disappeared.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Disappeared? Juliette's heart was thudding hard. Where had he gone? She stared around in consternation, seeing Wyatt do the same. The trees were packed closely. There seemed to be no clear route through them. But this case was backlashing on them so badly that she could hardly be surprised if he had ended up vanishing into thin air.

Air?

That word gave her an insight as she remembered that rope he'd been clutching. What if he hadn't gone along? Or down? What if he'd gone up?

She raised her head, no longer peering at the ground for signs of footsteps or disturbance.

Up in the treetops, she saw, there was some light filtering through the canopy.

And there, she saw him.

At first it was nothing more than dark shape against the darkened branch of a tree. And then as her eyes adjusted, it became clearer. An actual person, holding on for dear life, propped against a branch.

She grabbed Wyatt’s arm, not wanting to sound the alarm out loud. Discreetly, she pointed in that direction and felt him tense as he saw their fugitive too.

And not just the fugitive himself, but the rope he’d been carrying.

The end was still dangling down. Now, in the semi dark, she could make it out.

It was formed into a noose. A large noose, almost invisible in the gloom, with a loop carefully positioned to be at the head height of a tall man.

He'd set a trap and had been waiting for Wyatt to run into it along the track. And then he would have tugged it up.

Wyatt's fall might have saved his life. Chills shivered down her spine as she saw that harshly crafted loop, almost invisible against the darkened path.

Angrily, hating this man and his killing instincts, Juliette tugged at it and was rewarded by a shower of bark, a harsh, despairing cry, and a flailing sound from above.

"Come down, Doone," she said. "Or I'll pull harder."

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