Read Scattered Graves for Free Online Page B

couldn’t stop herself. She was going to fall. This was it.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. It was so quick, it made her reel. She grabbed at him with both hands. He laughed.
‘‘Oops, almost fell. Be careful,’’ he said. His voice dripped with mock concern.
He pushed again. And again pulled her back.
‘‘Uh-oh, you’re going to fall.’’
Again his shove pitched Diane out over the chasm with only her feet on the edge and his hand around her wrist, her other hand grabbing on to his arm. He pulled her back.
‘‘It’s a long drop down. Sure you’re up to it?’’ He laughed.
It was clear he intended to torture her with fear. But one of these times he was going to let go or mis calculate, and she would be gone.
Diane had an idea, but she had to put it in motion before he tired of his game. If he pushed hard enough and she couldn’t grab on to him or on to something, she would die. No chance of catching hold of some thing on the way down. What would make him con tinue the game?
Ross Kingsley, her FBI profiler friend, said positive reinforcement—a reward—will continue a behavior. But the catch is, what does the perp consider positive reinforcement? She knew immediately what Delamore wanted, and she loathed the thought of giving it to him. Harve Delamore wanted to hear fear, to hear her begging. That would be his reinforcer.
‘‘Look, please stop this,’’ she said. ‘‘Please.’’
It rather shocked Diane that she was having a hard time pleading, even for her life. What on earth did that say about her priorities? She inched to her left and pleaded again.
‘‘Not such a big deal now, are you?’’ he said.
He pushed her again and pulled her back. This time Diane dropped to her knees.
‘‘Better watch out,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s a long, long way down.’’ He laughed.
‘‘Please stop this. Please, you’re scaring me,’’ she said.
Diane had seen a possible weapon on the ground, and now it was under her hand while she was on her knees begging for her life. A hard piece of quartzite. Jagged edges. He pulled her to her feet.
‘‘Please, please, please,’’ he mocked her. ‘‘Come on, beg me, you damn bitch. I want to hear you beg some more.’’
Diane struck his gun hand as hard as she could with the jagged rock. She struck and struck again and slashed in quick succession—three times before the gun slipped out of his hand, bounced off his foot, and dis appeared over the edge and into the gorge.

Chapter 5
    The gun was gone, but Harve Delamore still held her arm tight in his grip. He was stunned and in pain, and he was furious. Diane was quick. Before he could hit her with his free hand, she slammed the rock down on the wrist of the hand that held her arm. He yelled and let go of her, but pushed her backward in anger. She had expected that, though; she fell to her knees immediately to keep herself upright as she slid over the edge of the cliff.
    She dropped in a free fall through the air, preparing herself for what she knew was below. Eight feet or more down the side of the cliff, she landed solidly on a sloped ledge where the rock protruded from the sheer face of the cliff. The momentum caused by Harve’s push sent her scrambling to find purchase. She shifted her weight forward and fell to her hands, not hard, but enough to let her grab the rock and stop her descent as she slid toward the edge.
    ‘‘I guess you’re in trouble now, bitch. That’ll teach you to mess with me,’’ Harve yelled down at her. ‘‘What’s going to happen to you now, huh? There’s nobody gonna come to your rescue.’’
    Diane ignored him. She pulled herself back on the ledge and took the time to scuff the soles of her shoes on the rock to dislodge any detritus and loose pebbles that had accumulated from her trek through the woods. Thank God she didn’t have on heels or leather-bottom shoes. She rubbed her hands on the surface of the rock and then on her clothes, trying to remove