Jaime Hardee pelted through Beacon Hills Preserve, continually risking glances over his shoulder. In between \u201844 is too old for this\u2019 and \u2018I\u2019m too young to die\u2019, he tried to figure out if he was being chased for some personal reason or just because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was just starting down the list of people he might have offended, throwing another glance over his shoulder, when his time ran out.<\/p>\n
~~~<\/p>\n
Summer Rainault crouched by the side of the massive stump, sleeves shoved up her arms. The wind blew a strand of red hair into her face, and absently she stripped it back behind one ear. The body was laid across the wood in a way that was clearly deliberate, the wide-legged \u2018Vitruvian Man\u2019 pose, eerily reminiscent of crucifixion.<\/p>\n
She swallowed hard, trying to breathe carefully. It wasn\u2019t the scent \u2014 there was very little of that \u2014 so much as the lingering aura of absolute terror. She pulled the camera from its slung position behind her back and focused in on the slit wrists \u2014 cuts that were utterly clean of blood, yet ran nearly the length of the forearm. She had to steel herself for a long minute before she could snap any shots of the face.<\/p>\n
The man\u2019s face was seamed with wrinkles, the skin age-soft and hair nearly pure white. Every visible joint was knobby with arthritis. Except for the cuts, and the positioning of the body, he could easily have died of old age.<\/p>\n
“I don\u2019t think you did,” she muttered to the body. “Something killed you. What was it?”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Jaime Hardee pelted through Beacon Hills Preserve, continually risking glances over his shoulder. In between \u201844 is too old for this\u2019 and \u2018I\u2019m too young to die\u2019, he tried to figure out if he was being chased for some personal reason or just because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong … Continue reading <\/span>