Blake ran a comforting palm down her back.
“Can we be sure I’m the only one under surveillance?” she asked. “Is there a chance it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity with the other jogger?”
The more Blake learned about Nash, the less mistakes seemed like his thing, but anything was possible. “We’ll know soon.”
“How?” Her voice ratcheted up, drawing the attention of several men and women in quiet discussion. “When someone else is dead?”
“No.” West shook his head. “We’ve got no evidence to suggest he’s out randomly hunting women. He’s taken six in total. He’s practiced. Patient and methodical. Right now, I think he’s acting out on his weird cops-and-robbers fantasy with Blake.”
Marissa’s gaze darted up to meet Blake’s.
“Nash stopped killing while I was hunting him. I lost focus on him, and he started again. I think that’s why.”
Marissa’s heart ached. Blaming himself wasn’t helping anything, but she certainly understood the inclination for self-blame. After all, she was the crowned queen of that response.
“We found the other victims,” West said. “That was a huge move in the right direction, and the ME will have more details for us to go on soon.” He cast a promising look at Marissa. “We’re going to get Nash before he takes anyone else.”
The room grunted in agreement around them.
She moved back to her place on the couch, stomach sinking further at the memory of the photos’ invasive content. Marissa on a jog. Marissa at a stoplight. Buying groceries. Pumping gas. Hanging clothes on a line. She’d been so naive and vulnerable at home, rocking on the back porch while being spied on by a serial killer. Why hadn’t he just taken her then? Why hadn’t she sensed him there? Watching her. Be aware. Know who’s near. Look for danger. Her dad had spent twenty-six years drilling those lessons into her head, but she’d learned nothing.
Images of the attack screamed to mind, as bright and vivid as the moments they’d happened. He’d stalked her for months, but he’d stood out like a grizzly bear that morning. He’d dressed in the wrong clothes. Smelled like cigarettes and even spoken to her. “He made sure I saw him.” Her hands grew clammy with the thought. “He could’ve sneaked up on me, but he made me uncomfortable on purpose.” He’d wanted her to be afraid. He’d probably even counted on her not going straight to her car. If he’d followed her all those months, he had to have known she wouldn’t leave the forest without a moment of reflection. She was so predictable.
Moments later, the group seemed to stand in unison and the little room bustled to life as men and women sprang toward the door with purpose.
Blake headed for her room with the little black duffel West had given him. He returned several minutes later in a T-shirt announcing Property of Cade County Sheriff’s Department across the chest.
West snickered. “Looking good, Garrett.”
Blake dropped his beaded chain and FBI badge over his head and screwed a black ball cap over damp, mussed hair. “No sense in aiming for sheriff, that was always in your cards.”
“What I heard was that you couldn’t compete.”
Blake smiled at his brother with warmth and pride. The quick shower had done him well.
Marissa’s earlier shower had only reminded her how sore her muscles were from yesterday’s fight.
Blake braced broad hands over narrow hips and locked sharp blue eyes on her. “Ready?”
“What?” She stood, unsure why. What had she missed?
Worry etched through his brow. “I want to make another pass by Kara’s place. I’d actually like to have a look inside this time. I don’t suppose you or your parents have a spare key?”
“I do. At home.” Her tummy bottomed out at the thought of returning to her home at night.
Blake grabbed his truck keys from the table. “We’ll pick up the key on our way to Kara’s. West and Cole will talk to any of her neighbors who weren’t home when Cole made his rounds earlier.”
“Okay.” Marissa forced her body forward, collecting her phone and a light jacket from the bedroom before heading for the door.
With any luck, they’d find Kara’s home just as they left it. Safe and secure. No signs of invasion. With lots of luck, they’d find Kara asleep on the couch, wiped out after a long hike and hot shower. Marissa would be content to find her at the local hospital with a twisted ankle or some other non-life-threatening injury.
Marissa strode through the hotel door with renewed hope and purpose. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding with Kara. Maybe she’d lost her phone or the battery was dead. “Here.” She placed her house key in Blake’s hand. “I assume you plan to go in first.”
“I do.” He opened his passenger door and helped her inside.
“Kara’s key is on the rack in the kitchen. It’s the one with the four-leaf-clover chain.” She tapped the dome on his ceiling with two fingers. “Your interior light’s broken.”
“Disabled.” He shifted into Reverse and headed away from the hotel.
“Why?”
“Stealth. Vehicles are big and loud enough without flashing a light every time I climb in or out after nightfall.”
Marissa pulled her attention back to the road, unsure if the explanation was frightening or genius, and hoping there would be no need for stealth tonight.
Chapter Ten
Things were profoundly quiet outside Marissa’s home. The view was exactly as she’d expected, the same one she’d enjoyed most nights for many years. An owl cocked its head at the truck as Blake eased it onto the end of her driveway. Behind the owl, soft gray clouds raced past the harvest moon, driven by the gentle breeze that worked the trees along her property line. Her fingers stretched and curled on her lap, eager to capture the shot on film, and missing her camera more than ever. A rush of fallen leaves tumbled across her lawn and adhered themselves to the narrow
