Don't Look Back [antikvár]

PrologueTerror came as a vibration, a plucked-wire note more felt than heard, primary to the deadening heat, to the flick of unseen insects against her face, to the oppressive night humidity that pressed into her pores. There was excitement, too, the familiar stomach-flipping rush of the 'get' and the piano-trill naughtiness of being where she knew she shouldn't be. But terror was paramount.As Theresa stole along the trail leading upslope from the river into the jungle, mud caked the soles of her sneakers, making her legs wobbly with a sensation like floating. It wasn't surreal so much as real. Dewy orchids wet-kissed her legs, calves, and arms as she brushed through, her silver digital camera in hand, set to night-vision mode.Appropriate, since she was on a night hunt of sorts.She broke into the clearing. At the far edge, a fallen tree trunk lay like a parapet. Beyond, the earth dipped sharply into a canyon.Breathing hard, she dropped to her stomach and army-crawled across the clearing, coarse stalks tickling her chin, insects stirring, dampness pressing through the knees of her hiking pants. But she couldn't take any chances.She reached the log and rested for a moment, hiding behind it. She thought of Grady as she most often did -laughing the belly laugh he'd had even as a baby, the one