Page 107 of Hunter or Hunted

So we painted the inside walls—all drywalled and insulated to prevent noise from escaping—a cozy shade of yellow. We bought a queen-sized air mattress that fit nicely back there. Against the walls, we custom-made some wooden drawers and sealed them with locks. There, our belongings stayed put.

Into the floor, over the sheet vinyl, we mounted some heavy-duty hooks. If questioned, we’d say they were to secure our stuff while on the road. But that’s not why we put them there.

They’d serve as our victim’s seatbelts.

Couldn’t have them flying around like groceries.

In the little bit of free time I had between my many jobs and hobbies, I’d cyberstalked Evan and Ava.

My speech I’d given her accomplished nothing. They’d gone Facebook official on Valentine’s Day.

Which only proved why I had to do this.

He’d already killed Allie. I wouldn’t let Ava succumb to the same fate. Whether she liked it or not.

April marked an official six months with Sebastian. Given how busy our lives had been, we casually mentioned to all our friends and family how desperate we were to get away together for a few days. No one suspected a thing when we announced our first trip in the camper van.

To their knowledge, our destination was the glorious Ferne Clyffe State Park in Illinois. Which wasn’t entirely false. We headed there first.

We went on a few hours’ hike and had sex beneath a waterfall. Afterward, we camped out under the stars with Honey.

But we only stayed for one night. By noon the next day, we secured our belongings in the boxes and got back on the road.

On our way to the destination, we stopped in a small Missouri town. We didn’t stay in the sweet old lady’s bed-and-breakfast this time. We parked at that park near Evan’s house, and we waited.

I changed my clothes. Black sweatpants, black hoodie, hair tucked in a bun, covered by a hairnet, then all pulled together with a ski mask.

Beneath the glow of streetlights and the moon overhead, Sebastian parked at the quiet playground. I stepped from the passenger seat and began my trek through the woods.

The clock on my watch read 11 P.M. when Evan’s home became visible. I hunkered down in the brush, only a dozen or so yards from his driveway, and I waited.

Silently, peacefully, waited.

Considering the spiral I had gone in when I killed David, I expected anxiety to prickle my fingertips. Maybe my heart would pound and my thoughts would race.

Nothing like that happened.

Sitting in the soil, watching the driveway, was almost meditative. Relaxing.

It didn’t feel like the buildup to an action-packed finale. It felt inevitable. One of those climaxes that didn’t feel much like a climax at all, but more like the simple end to a series of causes and effects.

At 11:14, headlights shone down the road.

From stalking Ava’s social media, I had a decent understanding of hers and Evan’s routine. He dropped her off by 11 P.M. on school nights. Had to adhere to her parents’ rigid rules.

As the truck headlights drew closer, I rose to my feet and darted to the side of his house. Bushes on the left disguised my body from any onlookers. Given the poor lighting, Evan wouldn’t see me as he exited his vehicle either.

But I saw him.

When the engine lulled to silence, the cabin light turned on beyond the windshield. Evan sat in the driver’s seat, blue light from his phone casting a shadow on his face. His smiling face. His stupid, smug, smiling face.

He stepped from the truck, headlights still illuminating the driveway. They lit his path all the way to the porch. The one I had entered when I broke in before.

Through the scope on the dart gun, I fixed on an exact point. Right in front of the door.

I wasn’t a great shot. I was working on it, but it would take time before I consistently had any luck hitting a moving target.

Sebastian suggested I do it this way. It was how Rhiannon relocated animals she didn’t want on the ranch. Lay out bait, then sit and wait, with the tranquilizer dart aimed at the bait.