Predator by Terri Blackstock Read Free Book Online Page A

known.
Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice, And be gracious to me and answer me.
    She heard the man moving past the log, heard the crackle of brush and the whisper of leaves. Was he going back to his car?
    She waited, listening, heard nothing. She wanted to crawl out of the log, but knew the silence could be a trap. Where was he?
    Moments dragged by, moments that seemed like an eternity, moments that gave way to deeper night. She went through the Psalm again, focusing her thoughts, trying not to think about what awaited her. That shovel…that hole. That gun. That darkness.
    Finally, when she thought she could bear it no longer, she heard the sound of his engine starting up, heard the car pulling away, heard it passing this place on the road, distancing itself from here.
    Was he really gone?
    She crawled out, looked around, saw only what the moonlight illuminated through the trees. He wasn’t here.
    She got to her feet, feeling weaker than she had before. Blood pooled in her mouth. She spat it out and stumbled through the brush and trees, trying to reach the road. There had been no lights down this long, barren road. Maybe if she went the other way, farther down, she would find help.
    She made her way to the road and looked to see if headlights searched the trees. She saw nothing. Staying close to the trees, she limped down the road, praying for rescue.

Eleven
    M egan limped for what seemed like a mile and still saw no lights. Maybe she should go back in the other direction. Her phone had been thrown out the window somewhere along that road. Maybe she would hear it ringing or see it lighting up in the darkness. Then she could call for help.
    She turned and went back that way, her feet slogging in mud. When she saw headlights coming, she thought of running out into the road and waving the car down. But something told her that it was her assailant, coming back to look for her. Knowing she could be passing up her only chance for help, she slipped behind the trees and hid as the person drove by. The car drove too slowly. Yes, it was him, all right.
    Had anyone missed her yet? She was due back at herapartment hours ago. Maybe someone had called the police. Maybe someone would come.
    As she walked back along the tree line toward civilization, she spat out more blood. She couldn’t move her jaw, and the pain of broken bones racked through her sides. Her weight on her knee ripped tissue with each step. What if she dropped right here in the dirt? How long would it take for someone to find her?
    She kept going, not able to give up, walking what seemed like miles until the rain stopped and the clouds split, constellations marking the passage of time. She heard movement, the breaking of twigs, breath coming just on the other side of the trees. Could he have found a way to come at her from inside the forest? Or was something else stalking her?
    And then she saw it. A deer, stepping gingerly out of the trees a few yards ahead of her. He grazed in the grass, then heard her and started. He peered at her through the darkness, his eyes locking with hers. Then he ran back into the woods, as if she were something to fear.
    The knowledge of such gentleness just inside the trees gave her the feeling that all along that path was not evil. Maybe it was a sign.
    Finally, she saw lights up ahead. A house, far back from the road behind acres of land—a house she hadn’t seen as they’d driven past earlier. One lamp burned in some room in the house. She caught her breath, thanking God, and dragged toward it, each landing on her right leg shooting anguish up her leg. She ducked under a fence and stumbled across damp earth until she reached a dirt driveway. Dizziness threatened to drop her as she got to the front door.
    She reached the stairs and wobbled up them, banged on the door. What time was it? Was it the middle of the night? Would she wake someone from a sound sleep? Was anyone even home?
    She saw a light come on upstairs, heard footsteps