<< Go Back

Hunter Hunted

By Jennifer Haynie

Order Now!

Prologue


July 2008

It was a beautiful night for a sailing trip. And a beautiful night to die. The thought twisted Emily Barstow’s lips.
The small sailboat slewed to the left and the right in heavy swells remaining from an earlier storm. The sea was still choppy, making piloting it a difficult task even for seasoned sailors. Hank and Vicky? They barely had it under control.
All the better for what she needed to do.
A gust hit the sails, and the boat shuddered.
“Hey, Em!” Vicky Meadows called. “Get that line there. Hold it tight since Hank’s going to shift the spinnaker.”
“Aye, aye!” Emily called back.
Mark, her date for the evening, crawled forward on all fours—because of the drinks he’d had or the fact he’d never been on a boat, she didn’t know—to help Hank.
Emily tied her line onto a cleat. Then she ducked as the vessel wheeled around so they rode with the wind. The boom snapped hard overhead and once more strained against the gale. She sought out the lighthouse. It winked at her as if taunting her for thinking she was where she needed to be. It was only a matter of time.
She swallowed hard.
Now, the sailboat gently rose and fell as it skimmed along the top of the water. She lifted her chin, and the wind pulled through the wisps of dark auburn hair that had fallen from her ponytail.
Emily leaned against the railing and peered down at the water. It was murky. Roiling. She shuddered before raising her gaze to the night sky. The sliver of moon only offered a weak glow. The stars twinkled with cold light, and she shivered in the chilly wind.
“You scared, babe?”
Emily jumped and whipped around. “Uh, no. Not at all.”
“You know how to swim, right?” His voice had the singsong of someone who wasn’t com-pletely sober.
She almost laughed. “I spent my teenage years on the coast.”
They yawed back toward port. Emily tensed, just waiting for what she’d always called the tipping point where the wind would shift, causing the boom to snap around with amazing force. But they weren’t where she needed to be yet.
They shifted back starboard.
“Hey, Emily, want to take the wheel for a while?” Vicky called.
Emily pasted on her warmest smile. “I’m fine here. Mark, go ahead.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okey doke.” Mark stumbled toward the cockpit.
Emily glanced at them as Vicky laughed and pointed toward the wheel. She demonstrated how to turn it, but she lost her balance and would have fallen had Mark not grabbed her. Mark took over, and Vicky lifted a bottle of beer to her lips.
Great.
Maybe no one but her would go into the drink. She searched for the beacon of the lighthouse again. There. Almost straight off the starboard side.
Her stomach clinched.
It was time.
Now, Mark seemed a wee bit sober as he held the boat on a steady course. Giggling reached her ears, and since the boom was on the port side straining against the wind, she noticed how Hank and Vicky had stretched out together on a blanket near the bow.
Nausea tinged her stomach, and she put her hand to her mouth as she thought about Eric and what they could have had together. Then she steeled herself. She couldn’t think like that, not now at least. Suddenly, she noticed how Mark had begun drifting starboard a bit.
Keep your focus. If not, that boom’s going to come around, hit you, and kill you. Be ready.
She blinked and steadied herself.
Toward the bow, Vicky kissed Hank.
It happened.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw the boom snapping around. It came at her fast, so fast she barely had a chance to get her hand up and tip over the railing. The boom clipped her on the temple. A bolt of pain shot through her head.
Emily plunged into the chilly water.
Now!
She forced herself to let enough air out of her lungs to sink. She waited as long as she could, then pushed a few seconds longer as her instincts fought her mind for more air. She kicked her legs and fled to the surface.
Emily sucked in a gasping breath.
The boat had sailed ahead. It faltered before commencing a tight turn to the left.
A flashlight’s beam cut across the black water.
Emily tugged the hood of her navy blue sweatshirt over her hair and part of her face. She darted back under and began swimming toward the lighthouse, only coming up for air when she had to.
Emily paused and treaded water as she turned to see where her friends were. They were close. Too close. Their frantic voices rose each second and reached her above the noise of the waves. Beams of light from their flashlights skittered across the surface. They would take the hit for her actions, but it was the only way. She swallowed hard.
Emily turned and began a strong, steady crawl stroke back toward shore, which looked a mile away, further than she’d remembered. Her swim through the choppy seas drained her strength.
Her muscles burned. Her side cramped. Tears seeped from her eyes, and she wondered if all of this would be worth it.
Finally, after several minutes of pushing her body to its limits, Emily felt herself in the gentle tug of the breakers. The lighthouse was to her right. Before her, the beach stretched wide and long. Too far to the left, and she’d miss the park where she’d left her vehicle. Too far to the right, and she’d be noticed by anyone still at the lighthouse.
Like a kid, she stretched and rode the waves closer to shore. But the one she’d picked to de-liver her onto the sand rose up higher than she’d expected. It sent her tumbling head over heels in a frothy mess. She grunted as her elbow scraped sand.
Suddenly, she was free—for the moment.
She scrambled further out of the surf and collapsed onto all fours at first, then fell into the sand, her limbs folded beneath her. Her chest heaved, and her fingers clinched the soft sand. She raised her head and gazed around her.
Seeing no one, Emily scrambled to her feet and dashed toward the walkway through the dunes. She fell to her knees and pawed at the sand until she pulled out the dry bag stuffed with a clean outfit. She exchanged the heavy, wet clothes pulling at her body for a soft T-shirt and jeans.
The sound of a boat engine distracted her.
Emily ducked into the shadows of the walkway. Running lights crossed from right to left, obviously a Coast Guard boat going out to search for her. Tears filled her eyes, and she bit her lip.
This is wrong. I can’t do this! But I need to do this.
It had taken three years of planning. Three years of scrimping and doing her best to prepare and somewhere along the way making compromises she had never dreamed of making, like set-ting her friends up to take the fall for her actions.
Grasping the warm boards of the walkway above, Emily pulled herself first to her knees and then to her feet.
She snatched up her bag and dashed across the walkway and to the parking lot where she’d stashed the car earlier that day before hiking the five miles back to where they were staying. The car she’d chosen for her new life wasn’t the faithful one from her past. Instead, she’d driven an old Corolla, perfectly good for going from Point A to B. Emily knew she’d better leave soon be-fore more searchers arrived. She needed to be long gone before the search expanded to include volunteers scouring nearby beaches.
Emily pulled her wet hair back into a loose ponytail. Then she climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine. As she began her journey, the road widened, first to a two-lane road and then to four lanes before turning into US 50 and I-95. She turned south.
Just to Richmond tonight. Then I’ll rest.
Hot tears burned her eyes as she thought about what she’d done. Emily pretended they were from the salt water. She reached for the radio and blasted away her concerns with some techno music.
Two hours later, she pulled into the parking lot at the cheap motel where she had stayed the year before when planning this venture. It wasn’t much. Wasn’t expected to be much. But hope-fully, it was so nondescript she wouldn’t stand out in her new black jeans and sweatshirt. She pulled to a stop at the end unit of the one-story structure.
Emily hesitated, and her hand shot up to grasp the locket around her neck. She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes. From somewhere in the back of her mind, “Jesus Loves Me” echoed.
“Time to go.”
Those words fortified her, and she tucked her hair underneath the back of her new hat before heading inside.
“I, um, wanted to see if you had a room,” she mumbled, averting her eyes. She kept her gaze on the counter and threaded her keys through her fingers.
“How many nights?” the clerk asked. She yawned, her eyes fixated on The Tonight Show blaring from the television. The studio audience clapped.
“One.”
With a huffy sigh, the clerk flipped through the huge book on the desk.
Emily already knew, judging by the amount of cars in the lot, that they were wide open. “Room Twelve is open.” The woman scrawled something on the page. “You want it?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Okay. Your name?”
Emily’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Jenna. Jenna Knight. K-n-i-g-h-t.”

Order Now!

<< Go Back