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  “Thanks.”

  She hung up and looked outside again. No more barking. She was being paranoid. Ever since she’d arrived here, she’d been hearing footsteps and jumping at shadows.

  Kelsey stared down at her throwaway cell phone. She was tempted to make one more call, but she probably shouldn’t.

  On the other hand, how was she going to get herself out of this mess if she didn’t track down some critical information?

  She took a deep breath and dialed a number she knew by heart.

  “Travis County Medical Examiner’s Office.”

  “Dr. Froehler, please.”

  She held her breath and waited, hoping he was there. He worked a lot of late hours.

  “George Froehler.”

  “Hi, it’s Kelsey.”

  “Well, well. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  It was a loaded statement, and she tried to interpret it. Did he know she’d left town? Were people looking for her? Would he call the FBI the second he hung up?

  But she and Froehler went way back. She’d interned in his office one summer during grad school, and she happened to know the deputy medical examiner was fond of her. His drawn-out silence told her two things: First, he knew she was in trouble. Second, he wasn’t going to ask questions.

  “I understand you performed the Reid autopsy,” she said, although this was a guess. Froehler was the workhorse at TCMEO, while the ME was more of a figurehead. “I had a quick question.”

  “The official report hasn’t been released yet.” His voice was guarded. She needed to tread carefully.

  “Manner of death?”

  “Homicide.”

  She waited, hoping he’d elaborate. From what she’d witnessed, she thought the weapon was either a knife or that gun with the silencer. But even with a silencer, guns weren’t really silent, and Kelsey was pretty sure she would have heard a noise. She was almost certain Blake had been killed with a knife.

  “I assume nail clippings were collected from the victim autopsy,” she said. “Any blood or skin cells present? Any signs of struggle?”

  “None.”

  Kelsey’s heart sank.

  “What about trace evidence?” she asked. “Hair, fiber, that sort of thing?”

  Another pause, probably as he debated the wisdom of sharing anything with her. “We found one hair, on the back of the victim’s shirt. It’s inconsistent with the victim, so there’s a strong chance it came from his attacker.”

  A breath of relief whooshed out. Physical evidence.

  “The FBI was here today, taking custody of everything,” Froehler said. “I assume it’s at Quantico by now.”

  “I see.”

  “Anything else you needed, Doctor?”

  Another bark, and she peered through the window. Still, she saw nothing.

  “Kelsey?”

  She heard the concern in his voice. In his guarded way, he was offering to help. Kelsey felt a twinge of guilt. This man had always been kind to her. He’d always been a mentor. But the sort of trouble she was in now was way, way beyond his ability to fix.

  “I’m fine.”

  Silence.

  “Thanks for the info,” she added. “I appreciate it.”

  She hung up before he could say anything else. She’d involved him enough, and she didn’t want to get him in trouble.

  Kelsey stood in the darkened kitchen, thinking about what she’d learned. The FBI had a hair, which was good. Trent had been in Blake’s apartment countless times, so fingerprints alone would do nothing to connect him to the murder.

  Then again, the hair might not, either.

  Next to bone and teeth, hair was one of the most durable elements of the human body. Kelsey worked with it all the time. But unlike DNA or fingerprint evidence, it wasn’t unique to an individual. It was considered class evidence, which was much less useful for investigators.

  Still, it was something.

  And then there was Ben’s information about the phone calls. Berkeley. Provo. She had been working on a timeline of Blake’s activities, but she had no idea how phone calls to either of those places might relate to his murder.

  Kelsey reached for an apple and nibbled on it, waiting for some sort of epiphany. Nothing came to her. The most perplexing question of all was why? What on earth had made someone who’d acted like one of Blake’s closest friends decide to kill him?

  Maybe the motive was personal, some sort of rivalry. Maybe Blake was having an affair with Trent’s wife. Given Blake’s penchant for womanizing, Kelsey figured it was possible. But what about the plainclothes cop who’d tried to kill her? If this was a crime of passion, why was he involved? The image of that man flashing a badge was keeping Kelsey up at night. It had shaken her faith in something she’d always taken for granted.

  Maybe the whole thing had to do with one of Blake and Trent’s cases. Or the bones Kelsey had recovered in the Philippines. Blake had told her he’d consulted Trent about that case, and that Trent had contacted someone in the Bureau who specialized in facial recognition software. But why would Trent be interested in some dead terrorist halfway around the world? More likely the motive was something much closer to home.

  Unfortunately, none of the pieces fit together. Kelsey couldn’t even envision the puzzle.

  She finished the apple and tossed the core in the trash. The cabin was silent. Now that the phone calls were over, she was acutely aware of how alone she was. She stared down at her dirty jeans, which she’d been wearing since Monday when she’d fled Blake’s condo. She couldn’t run forever. She knew that. She didn’t have the skills or the funds. Or the capacity for lying. Luckily, Kelsey’s mom, a high-school French teacher, was in Paris with a group of students, so she wasn’t likely to be contacted by the FBI right now. But her trip ended next week, and Kelsey didn’t relish the thought of her mother returning home to find a couple of somber-faced agents waiting to question her about her daughter’s whereabouts.

  Kelsey had to come up with some answers soon and she had to contact the police. But she wasn’t ready to step forward with her account of what happened until she knew which people she could trust. At the moment, anyone with a badge was off that list.

  The back of Kelsey’s neck tingled. She glanced at the door. Was that—?

  Creak.

  A cold burst of adrenaline flooded her veins. Someone was on the porch. For a moment she stood motionless, not breathing. Then she crept to the other side of the kitchen and took her purse from the counter. She’d bought a tube of Mace several days ago and she slipped it into her hand as she stared at the door.

  A shift in the light—barely perceptible, but Kelsey caught it. Her pulse quickened. She wasn’t imagining it. Someone was definitely out there. She glanced around, grateful for the darkness of the cabin, which would enable her to see someone before they saw her. But the cabin was tiny. How could she sneak out the back without someone in front noticing? What had once felt like a refuge now felt like a trap.

  She slid the car keys from her purse. She eyed the phone across the kitchen and debated whether she could get to it without making a sound.

  Creak.

  All her blood seemed to drain into her toes. She reached for the back door and fumbled with the latch.

  Thud.

  Kelsey wrenched open the door. She jumped down the steps and raced around the side of the house, toward her car.

  Suddenly she was scooped off her feet and jerked back against something hard. A hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Don’t scream.”

  The arm tightened, and Kelsey’s heart did a flip.

  Gage.

  There was no mistaking the arm, the voice, the firm wall of muscle now pressed against her back. He loosened his hold and she sagged against him with relief.

  “Someone’s there!” she hissed.

  “It’s a woman.”

  His voice sounded low, warm—the way she remembered from so many dark encounters.

  Kelsey pulled
out of his grip. She peered over the bushes and saw a short, plump figure tromping down the dirt road.

  The caretaker’s wife. Not a homicidal maniac.

  Gage took her by the shoulders and slowly turned her around to face him. In the dimness she saw those blue eyes gazing down at her and the hard angles of the face she knew so well. The familiar scent of him flooded her and she wanted to bury her head against his chest.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was serious—as serious as she’d ever heard it.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  His jaw tightened. Instead of answering, he took her hand and led her around the back of the cabin and up the steps. The door still stood open. He pulled her inside and crossed the cabin in a few strides.

  Kelsey shoved the Mace in her pocket and switched on a lamp as Gage opened the front door and picked up something from the porch.

  “Boysenberry preserves.” He glanced at her as he shut the door. “‘Welcome to Piney Creek, from Joyce.’”

  Kelsey pressed her hand to her chest. “God, she scared me to death! Why didn’t she just knock?”

  He plunked the jar on the kitchen table. “You didn’t have any lights on. Maybe she thought you were asleep.”

  He leaned against the wall now and folded his arms over his chest. Kelsey’s heart lodged in her throat as she took her first good look at him. With his broad shoulders and powerful build, he’d always looked to her like he might be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. But her favorite feature was his penetrating blue eyes—which were fixed on her right now. He wore a desert-brown T-shirt that stretched taut over his chest, faded jeans, and sneakers. This was the closest he ever came to looking like a civilian, but it didn’t really work because everything about him screamed warrior. Disapproval emanated from him, and she felt the need to explain herself—which was ironic considering that he was the one who’d been skulking around her cabin late at night.

  She took a deep breath. “You heard about Blake.”

  He gave a slight nod. “Lot of people looking for you.”

  “I know, I just—” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I had to get away.”

  “You’re running.”

  She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain. She didn’t want to involve him in this. She wanted him to walk right out that door and stay out of it.

  At the same time, she felt impossibly grateful that he was here. Just seeing him, hearing him, being in the same room with him made her feel as if she hadn’t completely lost her grip on the normal life she’d had only a few days ago.

  His expression hardened. She recognized the look. He didn’t like to be stonewalled, which was funny given that he was one of the least communicative men she’d ever met.

  “Forget it. You can tell me later.” He pushed off from the wall. “Right now we need to get you out of here.” He walked around the room and picked up her phone from the counter. “You got a bag or something? Anything besides the purse?” He held the phone out to her.

  She gaped at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Rule number one, Kelsey. Never, ever go where the enemy might expect you to be.”

  “But nobody knows I’m here.”

  “I know you’re here. Joyce knows you’re here.”

  “But—”

  “Save the argument. We need to—”

  Glass shattered. Gage launched himself across the room and tackled her. They crashed to the floor and she smacked the side of her head.

  He pushed up on his hands. “You okay?”

  She managed a nod. “What—”

  “Rifle.” He glanced over his shoulder. A pistol seemed to have materialized out of nowhere and he gripped it in his hand. He turned around and must have seen her look of horror.

  “Don’t worry, all the shades are down—he’s shooting at shadows.” Gage reached across her to yank the lamp cord from the wall and the cabin went black. “We need to get out of here.”

  Kelsey’s heart hammered. Her lungs didn’t seem to want to work. Someone was shooting at them.

  Gage moved into a crouch beside her. “Stay down. Grab your purse and anything else you need. And here, give me your keys.”

  Dazed, she fumbled around in the darkness and followed his commands. Then he folded her hand around something metal—a key.

  “I’m parked two lots down, at an empty cabin. You’re going to make a run for my truck.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll create a diversion.”

  Before she could voice any of her objections, he reached up and opened the back door. He went perfectly still as he peered into the darkness. When he seemed satisfied it was safe, he slipped out the door, ducking low and towing her behind him. Together, they eased down the steps.

  Kelsey gripped the keys in one hand and Gage’s arm in the other.

  “Come with me,” she whispered. “Let’s stay together.”

  He shook his head. Then he pointed her shoulders toward the woods.

  “Just over there, all right?” His voice was warm against her ear, but barely audible over the frenzied beating of her heart. “Count to five, then run like hell. Get in on the driver’s side, then move over for me.”

  He gave her arm a squeeze and disappeared into the shadows.

  Kelsey stood motionless. She felt a swoosh of wind, heard the rustle of bushes. A loud squeak as he yanked open the door to her car.

  She’d forgotten to count!

  The car sputtered to life. Kelsey glanced around, then darted for the nearest spruce. She felt like a cartoon character running from tree to tree, trying to make herself invisible. Her breath came in shallow pants. She scanned the area, but it was nearly impossible to see anything in the dimness. She sprinted for the next tree and the next.

  Crack.

  The sound was unmistakable this time, and her heart skittered. Gage! She wanted to scream at him. What kind of crazy plan was this?

  Through the gloom, she saw the outline of another cabin. A black pickup sat out front. Kelsey made a mad dash, trying so hard to stay low that she tripped to her knees right beside the truck. She wrenched open the door and scrambled across the seat and over the gear shift. She huddled on the floor.

  God, where were the keys? She groped around. Her hand encountered a soft-drink can, a hat. Her fingers closed around the key chain. She shoved the key in the ignition as Gage leaped behind the wheel.

  “Go!” she yelped.

  He started the truck and thrust it into gear. “Get down!”

  She crouched into a ball on the floor as he shot backward, jerking his door shut as he went. He hunched low over the wheel, but his bulk was an inviting target, and Kelsey held her breath as they roared down the dirt road. The tires hit asphalt and he stomped on the gas.

  Kelsey gazed up at him, unable to speak or breathe or even formulate a thought.

  “You all right?” He glanced down at her.

  She nodded.

  “Stay down,” he said, but even as he said it, he was straightening up to check his mirrors and switch on the headlights.

  The car vibrated under her and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was happening again. She couldn’t get away from it. And now Gage was involved.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. His jaw was set, his lips pressed together in a grim line. He looked fierce, determined.

  “Are they following?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. He checked the mirrors again. Kelsey waited, sure that at any moment the windshield would explode.

  “Gage?”

  “We’re good for now.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come on.”

  Her arms quivered as she pulled herself into the seat. She dragged the seat belt over her body and it took two tries to get it buckled because her hands were shaking. She looked at Gage. Then she looked out the window at the woods rushing by in a blur.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I’ll put some dis
tance between us.” He shot her a look. “Then we’ll stop and you can tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Elizabeth glanced around the dark motel parking lot as she gathered files from the backseat. It wasn’t the best neighborhood she’d ever been in, but it wasn’t the worst, either. Still, she didn’t think it wise to leave anything in the rental car overnight. She hitched her computer bag onto her shoulder, grabbed her purse, and balanced a few more files against her hip as she slammed the door. She strode across the pitted asphalt, darting her gaze around.

  “Need a hand?”

  She whirled around as a figure emerged from the shadow between two cars.

  Derek Vaughn.

  The man was, quite possibly, the last person she wanted to see tonight.

  “Are you lost?” she asked.

  “Nope.” He reached over and took the stack of files.

  “Hey!”

  “Let me give you a little tourist tip.” He spoke in that lazy Southern drawl as he smiled down at her. “This isn’t a great part of town. Not a good idea to walk through dark parking lots with your hands full. Makes that Glock you’re packing next to useless.” He tugged the computer bag from her shoulder and transferred it to his own. “Damn, you got encyclopedias in here?”

  Rather than engage in a wrestling match over her stuff, she crossed her arms.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Vaughn?”

  “It’s Derek.” The side of his mouth curled up. “And you can let me walk you to your room. This way?”

  He started off in the direction she’d been walking. Elizabeth watched his back. He’d changed clothes since before, when he’d been dressed as Gage Brewer’s twin. Now he wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt that fit snugly over his muscular build. Now that he wasn’t wearing the Bears cap, she got her first look at the thick brown hair that curled slightly at the back of his neck.

  “What are you, 103?” He glanced back at her.

  Elizabeth huffed out a breath and followed him. They reached the concrete walkway in front of the rooms, and she sidestepped him to take the lead. She halted in front of 103 and flicked him a glance.

  “How did you know?”