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****
“This is stupid,” Cole muttered to himself.
What in hell was he doing following this woman? He’d left his county vehicle in the lot along with his uniform shirt and taken his truck when he left the office. Strictly by chance, he’d seen her coming out of Jane Milburn’s office and head for the Gas and Go. Now, he stayed far enough behind her, allowing two or three vehicles to ride in between, hoping he wouldn’t tease her antennae.
Where the hell was she going? She was heading for the west side of town, but what could she be looking for? There wasn’t all that much out that way. He muttered a curse when he saw her turn into the fairgrounds entrance. This was where the last two victims had been taken. Cole tried to remember if that tidbit had made it into the newspapers. Then he remembered she’d been going through old files this morning. Had she come to the last one already, the one about the little Nolan girls?
He watched her park her car near the concession stand, get out, and walk to the picnic area. She stood, nearly as still as a statue, just staring around her as if trying to visualize what had happened. How did she do what she did? Get inside the minds of dead people and killers to find answers that eluded everyone else.
He waited, wondering what she would do next. He was shocked at what he saw. She stumbled to a tree and vomited, then dropped onto one of the picnic benches and buried her head in her hands. From the way her shoulders shook, he knew she was crying and they weren’t any ladylike tears. So she wasn’t such a cold fish after all. Or was there something personal in all this? In the Marines, he’d learned to read people fast. Sometimes his very life depended on it. And his well-developed gut instinct told him. Something here just wasn’t adding up.
He’d do a little more digging on Miss Dana Moretti.
Eventually the tears must have dried up, because she dug a tissue out of her pocket, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, and walked slowly back to her car. She looked up, and for a moment, Cole thought she’d seen him. Then she climbed into the little car, cranked the engine, and tore out of the parking lot like every demon in the world was after her.
****
The headache gestating since Dana got on the plane the day before was threatening to emerge full blown. After the episode at the fairgrounds, she wanted only to curl up in a fetal position and shut out the world. But she hadn’t checked out her rental yet and she needed at least the minimum of groceries and supplies. Freddie’s Gas and Go seemed the quickest answer.
As she moved through the small convenience store, she had the sense that every pair of eyes was glued to her. Mulling over the presence of the “muckraker,” as she’d sometimes been called, and what it was going to mean to them and the county.
From what little she’d seen so far, it didn’t appear that High Ridge had experienced a population explosion since she left, so she supposed it was just that a strange face piqued everyone’s interest. She didn’t know if John Garrett had mentioned to anyone what she was doing here, but she was sure Marion Jordan had.
Did they react the same way Marion had? Did any of them read her books and recognize her? Did the killer? Was he here somewhere?
Dredging up her best professional smile for the clerk, she paid for her purchases and carried them to her car. By the time she found the address on the directions Jane Milburn had given her and brought everything inside, Dana’s head felt as if she’d stuck it in a vise. Digging two aspirins from her purse, she swallowed them with a glass of water at the sink, closed her eyes, and willed the pain in her head to subside.
The house was comfortably furnished and had obviously been recently cleaned, but it still had the stale, closed-in feeling that suddenly made her claustrophobic. Dana opened a couple of windows, welcoming the rush of air. She took time to put away her groceries, knowing she should put something in her empty stomach, but even thethoughtof food made her stomach heave again. What she needed first was something to ease the mental strain gripping her body. Something mindless to make her forget for a while why she was here.
When her nerves were strung this tight, physical exercise usually did it for her. Deciding to take a run through her new neighborhood, she changed into shorts and a T-shirt and laced up her jogging shoes. What better way to familiarize herself with the area?
She glanced around as she moved from the front porch to the wide sidewalk. A nice, neat neighborhood. Well kept. Quiet. Exactly the environment she needed.
Taking a deep breath, she headed off, setting her pace, lengthening her stride as her body fell into the familiar rhythm. As her muscles stretched, she felt the tension ease. The evening air had a fresh smell to it, and a soft breeze teased at the tendrils of curls escaping her ponytail.
In a moment it all changed, the breeze shifting to a freshening wind, heavy clouds moving in. She was ten blocks from the house when fat drops of rain began pelting her skin, and in seconds, she was soaked.
She sloshed through the rapidly accumulating puddles and was wishing she’d opted for wine and a hot bath when a large, black pickup pulled to the curb and the passenger side window slid down. Dana began running faster, her natural fear of strangers, especially men, kicking in.
“Hey!” The voice was deep, heavy, masculine. “Need a ride?”
She glanced sideways. It was the same truck she’d seen earlier, she was sure. She didn’t stop long enough to get more than a brief glimpse of the driver. Male, wearing the traditional Stetson. Was ithim? Had he already discovered her and identified the grown woman who was once the child? No, he’d be older than this man.
But just like that, the familiar panic threatened to swallow her up. The pounding of her heart and the sensation of air trapped in her lungs had little to do with her physical exertion. This was the same kind of paralyzing fear that wrapped its tentacles around her whenever she was confronted with an unknown, unexpected male presence.
Dana pushed harder, strides eating up the distance back the way she’d come.
Just let me get to the house. Please. Just let me get away from him.
“You’re soaked,” the voice called to her as the truck slowed. “You’ll catch pneumonia. Be sensible. I promise I’m harmless. Come on. Let me give you a ride.”
Yeah, right. God, make him get away from me.
The voice didn’t sound familiar, but that didn’t mean it wasn’thim. He’d have changed, gotten older like she had. She increased her speed, hoping that would be a signal to back off. Her heart was trip-hammering so hard she expected it to leap through her chest at any moment. She’d stupidly left her cell phone in her purse so she couldn’t even call the sheriff.
At the corner, the truck turned in front of her and she had a vague impression of a man at the wheel, but the rain made it impossible to see him clearly. There was a big dog, some kind of shepherd, sitting up in the back seat. When the truck stopped at the curb, literally in her path, the fear was so intense it choked her.
Get away! Get away!
