He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Are you okay?” she asked, recalling his expression at the sight of the women being extracted from the lake.
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes. He’d aged in those last few minutes by the lake.
She’d watched him as a gauge. Was this normal to him? To the other officials? It wasn’t. Everyone had looked the way she felt. Some of the divers were physically sick while being interviewed. This thing that was happening in her town was absolutely sinister, and she was caught in the center of it.
Marissa leaned against a tree to tie her shoe and pull herself together. “Maybe you should get some sleep when we get back to the hotel.”
“I’m fine.” The words were resolute, from the mouth of a man who’d clearly repeated them a thousand times.
“Your eyes are rimmed in red. I doubt you slept at all last night, and I know you haven’t eaten today.” West had made a similar assessment when Blake arrived at the sheriff’s department yesterday. So his poor self-care wasn’t just about the last twenty-four hours. It was something more. How long had he been this way?
He turned his suddenly heated gaze on her.
“Don’t say you’re fine,” she warned.
“I am.”
She snorted. “You’re predictable. I’ll give you that.” She pushed off the tree and continued down the path toward the parking lot, in no hurry to get back to her new reality.
Blake fell into step, easily matching his long stride to her much shorter one. “I’m sorry you had to see that. No one should have.”
“Do you think that he was dragging me toward the lake yesterday?” she asked. “That he had his gear ready to go? Was that why we found the scuba weights in the grass?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do you think he gets the dresses?”
Blake didn’t answer. “There’s a lot I don’t know these days.”
The trail ended too soon, dumping them back at the crowded lot. Official vehicles peppered the space between those she presumed belonged to the divers.
Blake’s truck was still sandwiched between coroner’s vans. Marissa marched to the passenger door, careful not to think too long about what she’d seen at the lake.
Blake leaned over his hood and plucked a sheet of paper from beneath his windshield wiper. A slew of curses poured from his lips, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Get in.” He unlocked the truck doors and pointed at Marissa. “West?” he barked into the phone. “I’ve got contact.” He pressed the paper facedown on the window and turned in a small circle, examining the quiet forest around him. “There was a picture on my truck. Probably the next victim. We need a name and address. We’ve got to get to her before he does.”
Marissa climbed inside and locked her door. Her gaze swept to the photo staring at her through the arching glass. A boulder of fear landed on her chest, obstructing her airways and aching in her throat. “Blake!”
The driver’s door jerked open. “What?” He leaned over the seat, eyes wide. “What happened?”
She fumbled for her phone with weak, uncoordinated hands. Her tear-blurred gaze jumped to the photo on his windshield. “That’s my sister.”
Chapter Six
Marissa worked her fingers over the phone screen, dialing Kara as quickly as possible with shaking hands. Blake’s voice boomed beside her in the truck cab as he contacted West and his team. His words were lost as Marissa counted the rings. Had they always been so long and far between? “Voice mail,” she whispered.
The truck rumbled to life and reversed through the grass and gravel with a loud roar. Stones blew out behind them, clanging and rattling against the fenders and undercarriage as they spun for the gate.
Marissa’s ears rang. “She didn’t pick up.” Why didn’t she pick up? Marissa dialed again.
The truck jumped between a tree and the guard gate, not bothering to stick to the road or wait for the removal of the barricade. “There’s a deputy en route to Kara’s house,” Blake said, tearing up the road at nearly double the posted thirty-five miles per hour speed limit. He pressed a button on his dash and a red glow flashed over his windshield, presumably from the unit on the truck’s roof.
“Voice mail.” Marissa hung up and dialed again.
A news van gave chase in Marissa’s side view mirror. It was no wonder with the exit they’d made.
Blake cursed and jammed his finger against the touchscreen on his dash. “Dial West,” he ordered.
Marissa’s head swam and her tummy churned. Blake’s voice became the backdrop to her fear as he explained the new situation to West and set plans to beat Nash to Kara. Assuming he didn’t already have her.
Nash Barclay could have anything he wanted, except Kara. Marissa would trade anything she had for her sister. Including herself. The voice mail picked up again, and Marissa slammed the phone onto the bench beside her.
“Hey.” Blake lowered a hand over hers, trapping her shaky fingers in his steel grip. “Breathe.”
Marissa pulled in a long, shuddered breath and released it. Blake’s presence was a tonic to her nerves, but his touch was so much more. She gripped his strong fingers, allowing them to syphon her fear and stall the erratic pounding in her chest. His broad palm engulfed her small hand, covering it with his protection and sending sparks of electricity over her skin. She refocused on the road. “Turn right on Main and head for Blue Grass Run. She’s the yellow one-story at the top of the hill. There’s a tree in the yard with a swing and window boxes on the sills.” Marissa’s voice cracked. Her sister was too sweet and kind to fall victim to a monster.
“Got it.” He released her hand to jam the horn on his steering wheel before running a red light.
Cool air rushed over her fingers in the absence of his grip, and immediate disappointment set in. “I know Blue
