Read Chasing Evil (Circle of Evil) for Free Online Page B

disappear around the front. Taking the corner wide, Cam slid on the loose gravel, went down to one knee. Muttering an obscenity, he righted himself and drew his weapon, sidling along the back of the leaning structure.
    As he’d guessed, there was no door, just a yawning expanse of darkness that had swallowed Price. The wood slats that framed the entrance were rotted and broken, poking out at jagged angles like broken teeth. Cam could see nothing in the interior shadows. “You’ve got no way out of this, Price,” he called, his eyes straining to make out a shape inside the darkness. “Don’t make it harder yourself.”
    “Going in,” he heard Beckett say.
    It was on the tip of Cam’s tongue to shout a warning. Right now they had the man contained but once the sheriff entered there would be virtually no way for Cam to distinguish between two struggling shapes in the shadows inside.
    But before he could say a word he saw a figure move in the darkness. There was a sickening crack of wood splintering against something solid. He swung around the corner, weapon trained, eyes straining in the darkness. “Maxwell?”
    A shadowy figure leaped over a crumpled heap at the other end of the structure and streaked outside.
    “Fuck.” The sheriff’s voice was slurred as he got to his feet. Swayed. “He’s loose.”
    Cam spun on his heel and raced out of the building, around the corner. He saw Price run past the next decrepit building, get lost behind it. Putting on a burst of speed he sped by it, too. Caught sight of the man disappearing into the thick line of firs marking the perimeter of the property.
    Gray shadows melded with black. In the twilight before full night, the moon wasn’t yet out. There was just a sprinkling of stars to light the area. Cam tried to recall what was beyond the tree line. More fields, probably. Which would be a wide-open space, a blessing for a foot pursuit.
    His breathing settled into the practiced rhythm used when he jogged most nights. The dog’s barks were growing more infrequent and they were now behind him. Maybe the animal was giving up the chase. Cam raised his hands to protect his face as he burst into the grove. Needled branches clawed at his arms, his head. Ahead he could hear someone panting and knew it was Price. The man was tiring.
    He burst from the trees and could make out the fleeing man fifteen yards ahead of him. Ten. Filled with a renewed spurt of adrenaline, Cam picked up speed.
    The figure ahead of him leaped through the air. It took a moment for comprehension to filter through. When it did, Cam tried to halt his forward impetus, slowing, but not managing to completely stop before slamming into the barbed wire fencing delineating the property from the adjoining field.
    Brilliant explosions of pain radiated from a dozen different spots. Cursing vividly, he heard the wild cackle of laughter ahead of him as he paused to extricate himself from the wire. The sound torched something inside him. Solidified purpose. Gritting his teeth, he backed up several feet then ran forward, placing his bloody palm on a metal fence post to stabilize him as he vaulted over it.
    Had Price chosen to lie motionless in the field he would have been nearly impossible to see in the darkness, at least from a distance. But the sound of his progress across the planted field was as good as a spotlight.
    Cam had never been a sprinter. He ran for fitness only, and he’d never developed a runner’s love for the act. But right now his routine served him well as muscles pumped in familiar response, despite the stinging pain and the blood he could feel trickling down his skin in multiple spots.
    Headlights speared the darkness to the left, a vehicle moving fast down the gravel road. It swung around the corner, the slash of light spotlighting the area and the man Cam was pursuing. He was closer than Cam had thought. About thirty yards separated them. Price was half stumbling with exhaustion, but he was still