The Inner Sanctum by Stephen Frey Page B

shrubs, guided only by moonlight, spurred on by the sound of gunshots from the house. The foliage tore at her face, arms, and clothing as she stumbled through the blackness, avoiding the sharp branches as best she could. She had sensed the predator as he had peered through the window, though she was still not certain exactly how. Perhaps her ears had picked up a foreign sound or her nose an unfamiliar scent. Whatever it was, she had known instantly she must leave and that the front door was not an option.
    Her shoulder suddenly clipped a thin sapling obscured by the darkness and she fell heavily to the leaf-covered ground. The file from Robinson's desk slipped from her hand and its contents spilled to the ground. A sharp pain shot from her shoulder to her fingertips, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She lay on the ground for a moment rubbing the shoulder, then picked herself up, took off her gloves and stuffed them in her pants pocket, retrieved the papers lying strewn about the dry leaves and kept going. She had to keep going. The predator was back there in the darkness. She could feel him.
    Her plan was to move quickly through the forest forty yards in from the road, using the trees as cover, until she reached a spot close to where she had parked her car. Then she would cross the road, find the car in the grove of trees, and escape. It would have been much easier to simply race down the asphalt, but her instincts told her she would have been too obvious on the road, too vulnerable. There was a strong possibility the intruder wasn't working alone, and she was much safer in the cover of the woods even though it was slower going.
    Be careful. God, if she had only known how serious Robinson's message had been. And in the next instant the ground fell suddenly away, and she tumbled down a ravine, screaming as the darkness enveloped her.
    Roth's head snapped to the right. A scream, a terrified scream, human not animal. Female, judging by the pitch, and it was close. Closer than he could have hoped. Relief rushed through his body as he bolted toward the line of trees at the edge of the neatly trimmed lawn. The odds were suddenly back in his favor.
    Jesse stood up, water dripping from her clothes, and moved out of the stream. She picked up the file, which had fallen on the bank. She checked it. It hadn't been damaged. Then she heard the footsteps crashing over dry oak leaves.
    For a moment Jesse stood still, uncertain of whether to run or hide. Finally she turned, waded through the water, and began struggling up the other side of the ravine. But the moist ground gave way maddeningly in her fingers, and after climbing only a few feet she slid back to the bottom.
    Leaning on the bank, she hesitated for a moment to listen, trying to discern sounds other than the pounding of her heart. The footsteps were still coming fast. She glanced quickly to the left and right, then headed upstream, toward Gull Road.
    She tried to stay on the bank, out of the water, but the stream took a sudden curve, and in the darkness she stumbled into a shallow pool and splashed into the icy, spring-fed water again.
    Roth heard the splash and altered his path toward it as he dodged trees. The prey was close. He gripped the Magnum tightly and pressed forward. Then suddenly he too slipped down the steep ravine, tumbling over and over until finally he fell into the stream at the bottom. But he was up quickly, shaking himself, listening for sounds that would lead him to the quarry. He was disoriented from the fall and uncertain whether the splash he had heard was upstream or down from his position. Seconds were passing. The prey was moving away. He had to make a decision.
    Jesse heard Roth fall, and against every instinct she didn't run wildly away. Instead she moved more slowly than she had before, careful not to tumble into the water again. Careful to be as quiet as possible. Careful not to give away her position, because there was no longer any