Page 41 of Once Hidden
Corey fought wildly, his training forgotten in the face of primal fear.His elbow shot backward, connecting with something solid.He heard a grunt of pain, felt the grip loosen fractionally.
That was all he needed.Corey twisted violently, tearing partially free from his attacker’s grasp.His fingers found the edge of the plastic, ripping it away from his face.Sweet air rushed into his lungs as he staggered forward, gasping and choking.
The gun.Where was his gun?
A dark shape lunged at him again.Corey caught the briefest glimpse—black clothes, a mask or balaclava hiding the face, average height but very strong.He dodged sideways, his back hitting the truck’s side panel with a metallic thud.
With his back to the truck, his flailing hand searched for a door handle.In the same moment, his attacker seemed to hesitate, perhaps realizing the element of surprise was lost.Corey saw the figure back away, then turn and sprint into the woods, disappearing between the trees with unnerving speed.
Corey fumbled for his weapon, then realized it was gone—dropped in the struggle or taken by his attacker.His heart pounded against his ribs.
Get in the truck.Lock the doors.Go.
He stumbled around to the driver’s-side door yanked it open and threw himself inside, slamming it shut and hitting the lock button in one frantic motion.His hands shook so badly he dropped the keys twice before managing to jam them into the ignition.The engine roared to life, headlights cutting bright swathes through the gathering dusk.
It was only then, with all doors locked and the engine running, that Corey noticed it—a plain white business envelope sitting on the passenger seat.His delivery pouch was secured in the back; this hadn’t been there before.Across the front, written in bold black marker: “UNDELIVERABLE.”
Cold fear washed over him.Someone had been in his truck while he was in the woods.Had left this for him to find—or to be found by somebody else after he’d disappeared.
Corey threw the truck into drive and pulled onto the road, tires spraying gravel.He didn’t care about speed limits or safe driving practices now—he just needed distance between himself and whatever had happened back there.
With one hand on the wheel, he grabbed his phone and dialed 911, eyes constantly checking the mirrors for any sign of pursuit.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I was just attacked,” Corey said, his voice raspy from the plastic bag.“On Route 17, about fifteen miles east of Westminster.Someone tried to suffocate me with a plastic bag.I think...I think it might be connected to those other driver attacks.”
The dispatcher’s voice remained calm.“Are you injured, sir?Do you need medical assistance?”
“No, I got away.I’m driving now.”His eyes flicked to the envelope on the seat beside him.“There’s an envelope in my truck that wasn’t there before.Someone put it there while I was checking on something in the woods.”
“Don’t touch it, sir.It could be evidence.Can you tell me your exact location?”
Corey rattled off the mile marker he’d just passed, pushing the truck faster as the road straightened out.The envelope still sat there, innocent-looking and terrifying.“UNDELIVERABLE” stared back at him in those stark black letters.
Whatever it contained, he had no intention of finding out.Not alone, not now.Not after what had just happened.Corey pressed the accelerator harder as he sped toward safety.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the Bundydale Police Station meeting room, fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across scattered papers and coffee cups.Riley rubbed her temples, fighting off a dull throb behind her eyes.She knew it was just past seven in the evening, but this day felt endless—a sprawling investigation that kept unfolding new layers, each one more complex than the last.
On the other side of the rectangular table, Captain Travis Hodge and Chief Abel Peckham waited with the patience of seasoned law enforcement.Seated next to Riley, Ann Marie was working at her own tablet screen.
“Walk me through it again,” Hodge said to Riley.“Why do you think this Tony Bartlett is our unsub?”
Riley straightened, gathering her thoughts.This part was always hard—translating her intuitive leaps into logical steps that others could follow.How could she explain that she hadfeltthe killer’s connection to that burial site, had sensed the intimate familiarity with the place that went beyond it being a convenient location?
A short while ago, Peckham’s forensics team had exhumed the grave in the churchyard, reporting that the remains were indeed those of Cable Morris.Riley had also put in a phone call to Chief Rawley, who had confirmed what Riley had expected: the Bartlett twins had lived in Talomaska Crossing with their father for a couple of years, back when Tony and Jay were still in grade school.
Riley had also given Chief Rawley the coordinates that Timothy Lancaster had deciphered for her, coordinates she believed would lead to Amanda Lindeen’s grave.The police chief had agreed to take a team to check out that location, and those in the meeting room were all waiting for Rawley to report back about that.
But the two lawmen were also waiting for her to answer Hodge’s question.
“I suspect that these locations aren’t random,” Riley began.“As I’m sure you know, the way that killers leave their victims can send important signals.”
Hodge gestured for her to continue.
“Well,” Riley said, “if they don’t want their victims’ bodies to be found, they won’t be choosy about where to bury them, all they want is a place where nobody will look.”
