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By Dean Koontz

Rachael Leben's request for a fast and fresh divorce left her winning husband, Eric, enraged and humiliated. Seething with anger, he stormed off, instantly into the trail of an oncoming automobile.

Eric is stated lifeless on the scene, yet Rachael understands the secrets and techniques he is left at the back of. And while his physique disappears from the morgue, she is aware that her turbulent marriage is much from over...

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She stayed shut in the back of him. Sparse brown grass, crisp as paper, evenly stroked their legs. that they had to take care to prevent stepping on a few free stones deposited by means of final spring’s runoff of melting snow, yet they made just a little larger development than that they had open air the wash. The flanking partitions of brush offered the one challenge to the simpler new path. the expansion was once thick, a few dry and brown, a few darkish eco-friendly, and it pressed in at either side of the shallow wash, with just a couple of commonly separated gaps wherein Benny and Rachael may possibly check out the woods past. She part anticipated Eric to jump in the course of the trees and set upon them. She used to be inspired purely by means of the brambles tangled via many of the brush and via the depraved thorns she observed on a few of the trees themselves, which would provide a would-be attacker moment recommendations approximately amazing from that path. however, having already again from the useless, may Eric be anxious approximately such minor hindrances as thorns? They went basically ten or fifteen yards, prior to Benny iced up back, part crouching to give a smaller objective, and raised the shotgun. This time, Rachael heard it, too: a clatter of dislodged pebbles. Reeeeee, reeeeee . . . A delicate scrape as of shoe leather-based on stone. She seemed left and correct, then up the slope, then down, yet she observed no circulation linked to the noise. A whisper of whatever relocating via brush extra functional than mere wind. not anything extra. Ten seconds handed uneventfully. Twenty. As Benny scanned the timber round them, he now not retained any vestige of that misleading I’m-just-an-ordinary-everyday-real-estate-salesman glance. His friendly yet unexceptional face used to be now an arresting sight: The depth of his focus introduced a brand new sharpness to his forehead, cheekbones, and jaws; an instinctive experience of chance and an animal choice to outlive have been obtrusive in his squint, within the flaring of his nostrils, and within the approach his lips pulled again in a humorless, feral grin. He used to be spring-tense, conscious about each nuance of the wooded area, and simply by him, Rachael may perhaps inform that he had hair-trigger reflexes. This used to be the paintings he were knowledgeable for—hunting and being hunted. His declare to being principally a past-focused guy appeared like pretense or self-delusion, for there has been without doubt whatever that he possessed an uncanny skill to concentration fullyyt and powerfully at the current, which he used to be doing now. The cicadas. The wind within the attic of the wooded area. The occasional trilling of chook. not anything else. Thirty seconds. In those woods, at the very least, they have been presupposed to be the hunters, yet unexpectedly they looked to be the prey, and this reversal of roles pissed off Rachael up to it apprehensive her. the necessity to stay silent used to be nerve-shredding, for she desired to curse out loud, shout at Eric, problem him. She desired to scream. 40 seconds. carefully Benny and Rachael all started relocating uphill back. They rotated the massive cabin till they got here to the sting of the woodland on the rear of it, and each step of how they have been stalked—or believed themselves to be stalked.

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