Page 64 of Temptation
His head swiveled toward her.
“We got away.” Fear shone in her dark eyes. “But I think he decided to take someone else in our place.”
The woods weren’t quiet. Insects buzzed. Voices rose. Yellow police tape flapped in the wind even as thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming in. Fast. Preston could smell the impending storm on the wind.
He approached the grave slowly, his gaze sweeping over the piles of dirt. He’d been buried in that dirt. He’d crawled out of that grave. Now he was back. This time, looking for clues. Clues that might help them find the perp. And the new victim that he’d taken.
I think he decided to take someone else in our place.
They’d left the parking lot behind the ambulance company. They’d gone straight to their crime scene. Sloane had been tense and edgy, and he understood.
Bridget Russell could be in the ground right now. Every moment that passed was one less breath that she could have. They needed to find her. Time was running out.
“Y-you can’t go past the yellow tape!” Eugene’s cracking voice. The deputy wasn’t alone at the site. A tech was there, too. And a female deputy. Lucinda Chambers.
Preston pretty much knew all the deputies by sight.
“The sheriff told me you could look around, but you aren’t supposed to get too close.” Eugene wore a bright yellow raincoat. Even though no rain had fallen. Not yet. A brown deputy’s hat with a wide brim covered his head. “She thinks…thinks that the FBI will be here in the morning. We’re supposed to preserve things as much as possible for them.”
Lightning streaked across the sky.
Moments later…
Boom.
“Not gonna be much preserving with the storm coming,” Sloane murmured.
No, there wouldn’t be. Lucinda was trying to pull out a blue tarp from the back of her patrol car.
Sloane edged right up to the yellow tape. She peered over the tape. Down into the giant hole. So did Preston.
Broken boards. Light brown wood. A handmade coffin. Dirt. Hell.
“We didn’t find anything useful here,” Lucinda said as she came forward. Her hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck. The style she typically preferred. “No tire tracks. No tools.” Her stare shifted to Sloane. “Heard you saw a delivery van at Preston’s house, right before he was taken.”
Sloane nodded. “Any lead on that vehicle?”
“Not yet.” Her lips thinned. “Priority is currently on finding our missing woman. Our department is small. We are stretched thin as paper.”
Yes, they were.
He looked back at the grave.
“It’s a secluded spot.” Sloane almost touched the flapping tape. “Not a trail that tourists would take. Hidden. Private.”
More lightning flashed.
The scent of the approaching storm grew stronger.
“Why did he pick it? How did he pick it?” Sloane walked away. Stared at some of the nearby trees. Her gaze had turned considering.
He eased away from the hole in the ground. His eyes narrowed on her.
Sloane had begun to weave between the trees. Where in the world was she going? “Sloane!”
A boom of thunder.
He’d lost sight of her. Too many trees. Too many bushes. The location was isolated. “Sloane!”
