Brad paced the length of her kitchen. Trisha watched him from a chair in the corner, huddled under a pile of blankets he'd insisted she put on. His stride was tense, his hands fisted. He was worried. So was Nick. So was she.
Wayne and Nick were talking to each other on the other side of the room. Nick had thrown on a T-shirt over his jeans, but his feet were still bare. There was dried mud caked to the bottom of them as he left a trail through her kitchen. Nancy was going to be mad when she got back.
She couldn't get the ringing fear out of her head long enough to grasp what they were saying. Someone had been out in the woods. With a gun. In her demented nightmare, she wouldn't even have known if she'd been shot. Nick could've been killed. Brad, too.
It was all so crazy.
"Maybe it was
