Chapter Thirty-Nine

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That Night in August: Chapter Thirty-Nine

That Night in August: Chapter Thirty-Nine

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September 26th

Z A C H A R Y

The rain hits my visor hard as I race across the poorly lit roads.

I maintain a fair distance from Jamie, but stay close enough to keep the fucker in my line of vision. We've been on the road for ten minutes and every turn takes us nearer to where the dog walker found Cory Ellis' body.

It's enough to make my gut clench.

He makes a sharp right and I follow, ready to continue the chase for as long as it takes. But rather than accelerating or maintaining his speed, he slows down and pulls over to the roadside before killing the engine. I shut off all my lights and stop further up the road than him, being careful to stay quiet and not catch his attention.

I see no movement inside his car through the back window right away, so I take this time to yank my helmet from my head and hang it over one of my bike's handlebars. Eventually, the bastard flings his driver-side door open and heads for his boot. He lifts it open and rummages around for a few seconds.

And retrieves a shovel from inside.

"Fucking hell," I mutter, swallowing the lump in my throat. "This is fucked."

Jamie stands still for a moment, fist visibly tightening around the shovel. He fishes his phone from his pocket and switches the flashlight on before he stomps off like a man on a mission.

However, he does not head toward the river. Instead, he heads into the woodland opposite.

I allow him to walk a few metres ahead before I dismount my bike and follow him on foot. I'm aware of every step I take, wincing at each squelch of my shoes on the muddy floor and every snap of a broken twig underfoot. One wrong move, and the bastard will catch me, and fuck knows what he's capable of.

Heinous things, clearly, if he's responsible for Cory Ellis' death.

Jamie walks for about five minutes, swearing under his breath several times along the way. I follow several feet behind, making sure not to breathe too loudly. We eventually halt in a muddy section of the woods, encircled by trees. I stop behind a tree branch thick enough to hide behind and look around the side of it, watching his every move.

He fiddles around with his phone for a moment before bringing it to his ear. "I'm here," he spits, clearly on the phone to somebody. "And you'd better fucking hope that phone is, too."

Phone.

Does he mean the burner phone Cory Ellis had?

Why the fuck would the bastard need that?

Jamie presses his phone between his left ear and his shoulder and starts digging a hole. He's hacking at a patch of ground that seems like it's been disturbed before, but it's difficult to see from far away in the dark. After going down about three feet, he bends down and retrieves something from the hole that makes my eyes bulge in disbelief.

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