“They don’t.”
“What?” he asked, sure he must have heard wrong.
“You were right. Chance is the killer. Jonathon and Allina found proof at his house. He has a brain tumor, it must be affecting his behavior. They found a book of nursery rhymes. Chance had put smears of his victims’ blood in the book.”
For a moment he struggled to draw a breath. “Summer’s?”
“No.”
“Have they found him?”
“Not yet.”
“Summer and Hope?”
“I'm sorry, Luke, we still haven't found them. But we will. I promise you we will. Just come home.”
“I was coming anyway, but now that I know I'm no longer the number one suspect in five murders I feel a whole lot better about it.”
“I’ll meet you at the station.”
“I’ll be about an hour, two tops,” he informed his brother then hung up.
He didn’t like leaving to go back to the city. It felt like he was abandoning Summer, like he was going further away from her rather than getting closer to finding her. But maybe now that he was no longer a suspect, he and the detectives and the private investigation firm his brother worked for could put their heads together and figure this out before it was too late.
Luke hadn’t gone far when he heard something.
He stopped, looked around, but saw nothing.
It was probably just his imagination. Plus, he hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours, there was no way he could sleep while he knew Summer was in danger.
He noticed the tire iron swinging toward his head at the last second and dodged to the side, dissipating the majority of the impact, and receiving nothing more than a glancing blow to the head.
Although he had avoided being struck full-on in the head, Luke lost his balance, stumbling sideways and slipping on the slushy snow.
Taking advantage, the man above him swung the tire iron a second time.
This time it connected with the side of his head.
Unconsciousness came instantly.
* * * * *
4:59 P.M.
Summer was in so much pain she could barely think straight.
Hope was still out of it from whatever Chance had given her earlier, so there was no one to talk to. No one to help distract her from the pain and terror that flamed inside her.
Chance had also disappeared somewhere. She hoped he was gone for a long time. She didn’t think it would be long before he killed her and Hope, and she was terrified about how he would do it. Would he hack them to pieces while they were still alive to feel every blow like he had done to Henry? Or burn them alive, or poison them with some horrible spider, or throw them off a cliff, or something else equally as horrible.
She moaned and tried to shift into a more comfortable position, only there wasn't a more comfortable position. Shoved as she was inside the box, all she could do was lie on her side. It was approaching twenty-four hours that she had been stuck in here and her hip was aching horribly. Her broken arm was also pure agony. Part of her almost wished that Chance would come back and kill her so that at least she would be out of pain and at peace.
But if she died, she would never get to see Luke again.
He had never left her thoughts the entire time she had been here. He’d hovered at the edges of her mind, strengthening her when she wanted to give up. Comforting her when she was so scared, she couldn’t function. Keeping her sane when what she had witnessed had her wanting to let shock consume her and crawl inside her mind and shut down.
No, she couldn’t die like this.