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There was so little she could get from the first glimpse. She pushed herself to see as much as she could. Concentrate, Stella. The woman’s backpack. His. Their hiking shoes. He had a watch on his wrist— she didn’t. They both wore puffy jackets. His was expensive, a good outdoor brand. Her jacket wasn’t a brand she recognized. Maybe one of her friends might know. Someone might recognize her, or him.

She sketched the two people in relation to their height and weight, trying to guess as accurately as possible given their bulky clothing and surroundings. Then she sketched the very little she could make out of the campsite, her impression of water in the distance behind them, the trees and colors, the leaves on the uneven ground. There wasn’t much. When she finally lifted her head, she realized that Sam was back in the room with her, looking at the drawing over her shoulder, and the hot chocolate was in her favorite to-go mug sitting on her nightstand.

He studied the sketches in silence for a while. “I don’t recognize that campsite, but I’m not a backpacker. You and Raine tend to backpack more than anyone else of our group.”

She’d never heard him include himself in their group. It was true. Raine tended to be the one to backpack with her, especially if the hike was a long one. The two of them liked to go on one-or two-week hikes into the mountains and forest and camp. Sometimes, if they could get off work, they would go for longer stretches.

“I’ve looked at it over and over, especially the large impression of water in the background, but I just come up blank. I thought I could show it to Raine, see if she recognizes it.” She pushed back her hair and then reached for the chocolate. “It’s incredibly frustrating to see so little, Sam. It’s next to impossible to identify a place with no real identifying markers.” She rubbed her forehead. “That’s nothing. This is the Sierras, with thousands of miles of trails and so many campsites.”

“At least you have somewhat of a warning. That’s something. If it wasn’t for you, we’d probably never know this killer was at work here. Who knows how many murders he would get away with?” Sam sounded the way he always did. Calm. Steady. A rock.

She took a deep breath. “You’re right, I have to look at things from a different perspective if we’re going to catch this man.”

Sam paced across the floor restlessly, when he wasn’t a restless man. She observed him carefully over the top of her mug. “What is it?”

“I get that you have to talk to Zahra, but, sweetheart, you can’t forget for one minute that this man is a murderer. If he knows that you’re a threat to him, he’s going to set his sights on you. That’s the last thing we want. You aren’t going to be of any use to anyone if you’re dead.”

“I’m not likely to forget what I’m dealing with,” she assured. “I’ve had dealings with serial killers twice before and that was already enough for me. I don’t want to get anywhere near one. Zahra won’t say anything, Sam. I’m more worried about telling Griffen than Zahra. He’ll have no choice but to tell his boss, who would call in the FBI. Then it’s a circus.”

“We don’t exactly have anything to share with Griffen at this point.” He hesitated. “It’s possible I can use a couple of my contacts to help us.”

She looked up quickly. Her nightmare had woken her in the middle of the night, and if it hadn’t been for the moonlight streaming through the window, she wouldn’t have been able to see his face from where she sat. As it was, most of his features were in the shadows, giving him a predatory appearance. She almost wished Denver and Raine had never said anything to her. Already, with her nightmares and the memories of her past so close, she was edgy, and she didn’t ever want to see Sam as the “ghost” one had called him and the other had implied.

If what her friends said about his career was true, then Sam would have relentless enemies tracking him. Harlow had told her that men in the DEA who had gone undercover and shut down rings were hunted, as were their families. If that was the case, she could imagine that someone like Denver and Raine described would be pursued to the ends of the earth. He shut down terrorist cells. Drug cartels. Getting in touch with his friends in order to help her would be a huge risk to him— a sacrifice he would make for her. He didn’t put it to her that way, of course, because he downplayed his past, but she was fairly certain she wasn’t far off.


Tags: Christine Feehan Suspense