Unless there was more than one, she thought suddenly, with a flare of doubt, but then shook her head. There could not be more than one near here. She hadn't seen more than one.
Feeling more confident now, she moved forward, past the looming shape of the scarecrow, with his tilted head, black hat, and coat made ragged and threadbare by the endless assault of the blowing wind.
There was the path ahead, leading out of the corn. She could see a glimpse of darkening, grassy fields. She could see a road, and the faint shimmer of headlights as a car passed.
She could get help there. Someone would help her, she was sure.
Jenna raced past the scarecrow, speeding up now, wanting to be out of this field, out of the danger, out of the oppressive mass of leaves that was hot, airless, and felt like a prison.
But not her prison anymore, not for long. She was about to get out. She'd made it. She'd reached the field's edge. Now, she was just a few yards away.
And then, a dark shape loomed on a cross path and Jenna screamed in fear. He was there, the man with the scythe. He'd been waiting for her, knowing she'd choose this route. He'd anticipated which way her terrified flight would take her.
"Come here," he said to her, his voice strangely hollow, strangely empty.
"No!" she screamed. "No!" She turned, knowing her only chance was to run again, to rush blindly back into the corn and try to outpace him. She found a new surge of strength even in her exhaustion, the strength she knew she needed to save her own life.
But it was too late. His footsteps behind her were fast, heavy, and inexorable.
They were gaining. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him.
Jenna saw a flash of metal and she screamed again. The scythe came down, and this time, that wicked blade was coming directly for her. She felt a clean impact that knocked her right off her feet.
She sprawled in the corn, the blue sky telescoping in, fading to gray.
Darkness swiftly followed.
CHAPTER ONE
Deputy May Moore climbed out of her car, feeling expectant and excited as she stared at the building ahead of her. This was where, at last, she might find clues to her sister Lauren's disappearance.
Set in the industrial area of Chestnut Hill in Tamarack County, Minnesota, the storage locker facility looked old and run down.
"Don't go into the lockers themselves," Pete, the locksmith, had guided her. "If I recall, this safe was in the basement area of the storage facility, with a lot of junk around it. It was used by the owner twenty years ago, but the last time I spoke to him, he said he was going to rent it out, with the units, as he was selling the business."
Breathing in the cool, early morning air as she hurried to the facility's main entrance, May felt grateful for the locksmith's clear memories of these old-fashioned and uncommon safes. Without his personal recollection of this safe, she would never have known where to find it.
The early morning breeze ruffled her sandy-blond hair as she rushed to the entrance. She was already in her work uniform. She was going straight from here, to the police department in nearby Fairshore, to start her working day.
But first, May felt breathless with hope that she might learn more clues about her sister Lauren's disappearance ten years ago.
Her eighteen-year-old sister had last been seen storming out of the house after a fight with May. She'd taken the trail down to the lake. Someone had been watching and videoing her. This anonymous someone had recently warned May to back off ofreinvestigating the case and had broken into her house and left the video on her laptop as a threat.
But May had now found the two keys needed for access to this safe. One had been in Lauren's evidence box: a surprise item, undocumented and unrecorded. And the other had been found on the site of the old mill a couple of blocks away, where May realized that Lauren's watcher had been waiting.
The old mill was high-lying and the area where she'd found the key had given a good view of the surrounding neighborhood, which included her parents' house. May wondered if this anonymous criminal had made the mill his lookout point and had stood there waiting to spy on other women and film his videos.
She hoped that with both keys in her possession, she would get answers.
She hurried into the building. At six-thirty a.m., it had just opened its doors for the day. A tired-looking attendant in her late-forties was sitting behind the battered wooden counter.
"Help you?" she asked, slurping on a large cup of coffee.
"I'm here to get into a safe in the basement." May smiled at her, hoping she could win this woman over, because all she had were the keys. She had no other proof that she was entitled to access this safe and was anticipating there might be a problem.
Sure enough, the woman seemed unmoved by May's hopeful smile.
"Where's your proof of payment?" she questioned.