One By One by Freida McFadden(53)

“No.” He grabs my arm firmly. “Come on. You have to see this.”

I feel uneasy, but on the other hand, I don’t think Jack means me any harm. And I have to admit, I’m curious what it is he wants to show me so badly.

I follow him, but my misgivings multiply as we get to the edge of the woods to a small, dark path. A few minutes ago, I was swearing to myself I would never go in there again. I haven’t changed my mind. The whole time we were in the woods, I had this horrible sense something was hunting us. And that feeling hasn’t entirely gone away.

“Jack…”

“Please, Claire.” He turns his brown, bloodshot eyes on me. “You need to see this.”

Without waiting for my answer, he takes my arm again and drags me along beside him. I’m about to protest, but then he stretches out his arm and shows me something that makes my heart stop in my chest.





Chapter 33


CLAIRE



It’s a truck. A big green pick-up truck, badly rusted in the back, with a big dent in the left fender.

“I knew there had to be a vehicle around here somewhere.” He nods in the direction of the truck. “It didn’t take me long to find it.”

“Why is it parked out here?”

“Come on.” Jack takes my arm again. “I’ll show you.”

I don’t know if I want to know anymore, but I dutifully follow Jack to the truck. Maybe this is a way out of here. If we’ve got a vehicle, we can make it to the main road, hopefully.

As we get closer to the truck, it becomes obvious it’s about as beat up as everything else in the cabin. Clearly, the big guy with the Bible gun is the owner. But why did he abandon the truck in the middle of the forest?

“Look at the driver’s window,” Jack says.

I creep closer, holding onto the side of the truck so I don’t lose my balance. Before I even get to the window, I realize the truck isn’t empty. There’s a man in the driver’s seat. A big man with a thick, matted beard and a tangle of graying hair. I take another step closer and I see the vacant look in the large man’s dark eyes.

And I scream.

“Shh!” Jack hisses at me. “Keep it down!”

“But…” I lift my eyes again and see the blood all over his chest. Oh God. “He’s dead!”

“Right.” Jack heaves a sigh. “I found him like this. I think he’s got a stab wound on his chest.”

Before this week, I’d never been anywhere near a dead person before, and now this is the second one after Lindsay. A wave of nausea comes over me, and this time I’ve got food in my belly. I have to fight to keep it down. I hold onto the side of the truck, my legs jello beneath me.

“Claire,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Tears spring to my eyes. How did this become my life? A week ago, I was enjoying a nice evening with my family in my comfortable home. Now I’m out in the middle of nowhere, staring at a dead body. I’m never going to make it back home—I know it. “No, I’m not okay! How did…”

Jack’s expression is grim. “The blood on his chest is dry,” he says. “This didn’t just happen.”

I frown at him. “Wait, were you inside the truck?”

“I had to go inside. I wanted to see if the keys were in there.”

“And?”

He shakes his head. “Couldn’t find them anywhere. Even looked in the guy’s pockets.”

I’m impressed he had the nerve. You couldn’t get me in a truck with a dead guy if you paid me a million bucks.

“But it hasn’t been that long since he was killed.” He glances back in the direction of the cabin. “That sandwich on the table wasn’t rotting or anything.”

The wheels are turning in my head. The man has a stab wound in his chest. That means the animal that made the claw marks didn’t kill him. Whoever killed him had opposable thumbs capable of holding a knife.

He was killed by a human being.

“Do you think…” I take a deep breath, barely even able to get out the words. “Do you think whoever killed him will be back?”

“Well,” Jack says thoughtfully, “it depends why they killed him, doesn’t it?”

I take a step away from the truck. “We’ve got to tell Noah about this.”

“No!” Jack’s tone is sharp. “I don’t think we should tell Noah what we know.”

“Why on earth not?”

He shuffles between his feet, looking down into the dirt. “It’s all kind of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Coincidence?”

“Your minivan,” he says. “That van is practically new. Why would it just suddenly break down?”

I blink at him. “The battery died.”

“I don’t know a lot about cars, but I know a little something.” He lifts his eyes to look straight into mine. “The battery in your car looked older than all the other stuff under the hood.”

I snort. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He raises an eyebrow. “I told you how my compass was giving me wrong directions. I thought it was Warner throwing it off, but I checked the compass again after he disappeared. It was still wrong.”