Mason shook his head. “I hate to break it to you, but your mother was a liar. That may have happened with another cop or two, but I sure didn’t do it. I didn’t give her the chance. I was out of there the minute I saw what she was about. She used you—she kept you in the mentoring program to get close to cops.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!” Scott shrieked at the lying cop. Liars! Every last one of them. How dare he blame my mother! “You did this!”

“We have a name for women like your mother—badge bunnies.” Mason smirked.

Scott scrambled to his feet, ready to throw the man over the edge. Anger focused his vision. “You—”

Explosions cut off his words and the forest lit up like a fireworks display.

39

Ava didn’t wait for her backup. She’d counted four explosions coming from the woods. Fire licked the trees and the happy shouts had turned into screams of fear. After reporting the fire to 911, she dashed through a garden plot and between shrubs and trees, keeping one eye on the flickering flames that lit up the sky ahead of her. She entered the dense forest and the light from the flames was nearly blocked out. She turned on her camera’s flashlight and pointed it at the ground as she ran.

Who is screaming?

A figure dashed across her path, and she gasped at the sight of his bloody face.

A zombie costume. The man stopped and she saw a dozen more similarly made-up people catch up with him. “What happened?” she shouted.

“Is this part of it?” he asked her. “Did they add explosions?” The other zombies shouted similar questions. “Where’s the hayride?” one asked. They physically shook, looking over their shoulders, their attention going in a hundred directions.

Understanding hit her. She’d stumbled into some sort of Halloween-themed party.

“I don’t think that was supposed to happen,” said the first zombie, panting heavily.

“Is anyone hurt?” Ava hollered, waving her arms for their attention.

“No,” said several zombies. Several of them pointed at the growing fire in the distance. “We can’t go back that way.”

Ava gestured behind her. “Head that way. There’s a white farmhouse and the police should be there any minute. Fire trucks, too.”

“What about the graveyard crew?” asked one.

“The what?” Ava asked.

“The graveyard. There’re another dozen actors over there waiting to scare the hayride.”

“Which way?”

All the zombies pointed toward the fire. It’d diminished after the initial explosions, but grown again as it caught hold of the dry firs. She estimated it was a good hundred yards away.

“I’ll go,” she said. “Tell the police where I am.”

The actors took off in the direction she’d come from. The first zombie paused. “You don’t know the way. I know this set inside and out.”

She agreed. “Let’s go.”

He turned and started to jog. “Follow the hayride tracks.” Ava followed and realized she no longer needed her phone light to see between the trees. The fires lit up the sky and filtered down between the branches. She was too far away to feel the heat, but the smell of the smoke was almost nauseating.

The tracks led to a clearing in the woods, and she stumbled as she spotted a body hanging from a tree. “Jesus Christ.”

Her zombie partner didn’t even glance at the body, and she noticed there were a half-dozen more in the trees ahead.

She jogged on, shaking her head. As a kid she’d hated haunted houses and they still held no appeal. This setup would give her nightmares for months. She took a close look at a body as she ran by. The creator had perfectly imitated the gray skin and slack facial expression of death.

A shudder ran up her spine, and she ran into her zombie partner, who’d stopped on the path.

“What the hell?” he said.

She looked past him. Two fake gallows lined the hayride’s tracks. On top of one, two men struggled. Scott Heuser kicked the other man in the gut.

Scott Nickle.

Heidi Nickle’s son is Scott Heuser.

Her legs shook as she made the connection. The task force had been so close.

Scott Heuser had killed the cops.

The other man up there had a noose around his neck and was about to be shoved off the platform.

Mason?

Mason blindly kicked with his feet, not caring where they landed on Scott’s body. Satisfaction rolled through him as he saw the stun gun skitter off the edge of the platform. After a long pause, he heard it hit the ground with a thump. It’s a far drop.

He kicked and kicked, scooting himself to the safety of the center of the platform. He dug his chin into his chest, trying to get it under the noose, but Heuser had looped it tightly about his neck. Without the use of his hands, it wasn’t coming off.

Scott swore at him and scrambled to his feet.

Get him over the edge.

Mason attacked with his legs, feeling splinters from the platform slide into his shirt and pants. His upper arm throbbed where Scott had buried the point of his knife. The knife reappeared in Scott’s hand, triggering another round of two-legged kicks from Mason. Sweat ran down his face and his energy dropped to running on fumes. Scott launched himself and leaped over Mason’s legs. From the other side, he threw himself at Mason’s back and shoved.

Mason shot across the platform, unable to stop Scott’s momentum. His head dangled over the edge and he stared down at dirt and pine needles. One more shove sent his body flying off the platform.