It was a matching bracelet. Trevor stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, his mind reeling with possibilities.

“If you didn’t give these to me, who did?” Lara asked.

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t me. I wish it had been.”

She ran her fingers along the gold band around her throat, her mouth slightly open.

Something was wrong. “Get back in my truck, lock the doors, and stay down.” He hadn’t meant to shout, but his body shot into police mode the moment he sensed danger. No argument rolled off her lips, thank God.

Someone was stalking Lara, and he’d be damned if he let anyone near her. Gun drawn, he searched the street for either a person waiting in a car or someone standing around. No one was there—not even a dog walker or a kid on a skateboard. Only one beat-to-shit Ford Mustang sat empty in a driveway halfway down the block.

“I’ll be right back.”

He checked behind her house to look for some kind of evidence—a footprint, something dropped, a broken window, or anything out of place. There were no running feet or fast breaths of a person trying to escape.

He returned to the driveway and motioned she roll down the window. Lara peered up at him with big, brown eyes, appearing lost and vulnerable. He refused to address what her appearance did to the tension building in his body. He’d give anything to know who the hell was doing this to her.

“Did you find anything?” Her voice cracked.

“No.” He nodded toward her house. “Let’s get inside and plan our next move.” He wasn’t comfortable driving in a truck with her. They’d be an easy target.

She stepped from the truck and scanned the neighborhood, her mouth pinched with worry.

Sheltering her body with his, they made it up the porch steps and slipped inside. “Stay here. Let me check out the place.”

“You think he’s still here?”

He sniffed the air. “Given it’s rather musty, and I don’t see anything disturbed, I figure whoever is delivering these gifts didn’t come inside, but I want to be sure.” Moments later, he returned. “It’s clear.” He motioned for Lara to sit at the table.

Instead of doing as he’d asked, she disappeared down the hall, and the air conditioner clicked on a second later.

She returned, more pale than before. “You want some coffee? I hope instant is okay.”

“Anything.” As she busied herself in the kitchen, Trevor slid next to her at the microwave. “Whoever gave you the necklace and the bracelet knows you’ve been staying at my apartment as well as living here.” Her gaze dropped to her hands.

He pulled out his cell. Not wanting Lara to overhear, he moved to the porch, keeping an eye out for anyone who could be Lara’s stalker. After checking his voice mail, he received the call he’d been waiting for then headed back inside ready for the fight. “It’s all set.”

“What is?”

“I’ve found a place for you to stay.”

Her lips quivered. “My admirer only gave me two pieces of jewelry. I hardly call that serial killer potential.” Her laugh came out fake.

“I can’t chance you’re wrong.”

She fiddled with her blouse buttons. “What about Butch?” He recognized the stall tactic for what it was. No way she’d give in so easily.

“I’ll check with the family.” He wasn’t sure if she could bring an animal to the house because the baby might have allergies. “If that doesn’t work out, and you can’t get anyone to watch the cat, I’ll keep him. Butch didn’t seem to hate me.”

A small smile lifted her lips. “Thank you.”

Score one for him.

The microwave dinged and Lara removed two thin, white cups, not the sturdy mugs she’d used before. “Black, right?”

“Yes.” She remembered. He took the too-delicate cup over the table, mentally wording the next request. “While you’re stashed away, I’ll make sure a new security system is installed, and I’ll check daily for anyone hanging around.”

Her hand trembled. “Will I see you again?”

He couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad. “I’m not sure. On Monday, Dennis and his wife will return home from visiting her parents. Until then, I won’t let you out of my sight.”

She bit her lower lip. “How long do you think I’m going to have to stay hidden? I do plan to go to work you know.”

“That’s not a good idea in light of what’s happened.”

“What has happened? I received a note and two gifts. For all we know, my father sent the jewelry to me.” She sniffled. “And we can’t ask him.”

She lived in denial. “Your father would have had the gifts delivered to your house, not to my apartment or to the hood of your car.”

A tear formed on her lower lid. “Fine. He didn’t send them and you didn’t give them to me. I admit some weirdo is stalking me, but I can’t hide forever in some safe house.” She gripped her cup so hard, he feared the china would shatter. “In fact, I refuse to hide.”

Trevor shoved his clenched fists under the table. “This guy knows where you live and possibly where you work. The note he left in your house was threatening, even if you don’t think so.” He swiped a hand down his face, recognizing he needed a shave—bad.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She wasn’t thinking rationally. “We’ve been through this before. It isn’t about your ability to care for yourself. We’re talking about someone who might be a killer. Someone who could harm you next time.”

Her chin notched up. “What convinced you the same person who gave me the jewelry also wrote the supposed threat?”

“There was nothing supposed about the note. Someone is stalking you. Call it a cop’s gut instinct. We know there is a killer on the loose. Look what happened to Larry Jumper, Tanya Dansler, and maybe Mary Reed. Not to mention seven other men who are missing and possibly dead.” He prayed the woman behind the hotel had no connection to Lara’s stalker.

“I don’t see how their deaths and my jewelry are related.” She sucked in a big breath as her eyes turned the size of two harvest moons. “You think because the note called me his Indian Princess and this piece of jewelry is Indian that they are related?”

“Bingo. Finally, she sees the light. Don’t forget to add my missing Native Americans to the mix.”

“Okay, okay. I understand.”

He slapped the table and Lara jerked. “What I want to know is how the hell did he know we’d come back to your place and pick up your car?”

She shivered. “Is he watching me? Do you think he plant a listening device on me?” Her jaw clenched.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew when I left the apartment this morning, which was how he knew you’d be the one to find the jewelry and not me. We’ll need to check your clothing and your purse to make sure there’s nothing hidden in the lining or in the pockets. I’ll check my truck too.”

Her shoulders bunched forward. “Bugs are so invasive.” She looked him in the eye. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this guy doesn’t follow me again.” Her mouth formed a perfect circle and her eyes didn’t blink. “The blue car.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “What blue car?”

“The night I received the threat, I told you I went out running.”

“Yes. And a car hit you.”

“There was also a blue car traveling down the street real slow. Twice. I figured the driver was looking for an address, but now I’m thinking maybe he was following me, watching me.”

His body shot into cop mode. “Did you see the person’s face?”

She took a sip from her drink. This time her fingers weren’t squeezing the cup as hard. “No. It was dark, and I didn’t pay attention to someone who appeared lost.” Her expression remained intense and focused.

“Did you catch the make of the car?” She was observant and might have taken note.

“No. But it was a sedan or maybe a station wagon, not an SUV or a pickup truck.” Her shoulders slumped as she slid down in her chair. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. We can’t expect you to notice everything.”

She sat back up. “Do you think the driver of the blue car left me the note?”

Sunlight shot through the window and speared his eye. He shifted to the side. “Anything’s possible.”

“What would be his motive?” Her voice escalated with each question, closer to frustration than panic.

Now she sounded like a cop or else was addicted to crime shows on TV. “I couldn’t say.”

She shook her head over and over as if to make the reality disappear. “I think Bernie left the jewelry and wrote the note, and he’s no killer.” She seemed to find comfort playing with the bones on the gold band.

He forced his voice to sound calm, not that it would do much good, as she only read facial features. “He had an alibi the night your intruder showed up.” Trevor stood and peered out the window.

“Alibis can be rigged, especially at three in the morning,” she said.

He turned back around. “True. Why are you so sure it was Bernie who is behind this mess?” A car drove down the street, but the driver was an older woman.

He prayed she was right. A menace like Bernie could be located and tossed into jail with relative ease. Finding an elusive serial killer was much more difficult. When he didn’t spot anyone tampering with either car, he returned to the table.

“Bernie is always calling me his Indian Princess. When he saw the necklace I was wearing, he made a super big deal out it. I find it odd that a guy would know so much about a piece of jewelry, don’t you?”

“I guess, unless he really did know about the culture.”

“I thought that might be the case so I asked him if he had any Native American heritage. He looked offended and told me his father’s family dated back to the Pilgrims, acting as if his family lines were far superior to the Native Americans.”

“Which implies he might not care for them.”

“Yes, but if that’s true why does he affectionately call me an Indian Princess?”

“He is an enigma. Your necklace and bracelet look expensive. I’ve only seen pieces like that at museum stores.” He leaned closer, not daring to touch her throat for fear of wanting more. “Maybe the seller gave the buyer a history of the piece.”

“That makes sense if Bernie was the buyer.”

“Has Bernie ever been to your house, like to a party or anything?”

“No-o.” She cast her gaze downward before looking up. “I could ask Phil if Bernie inquired about me or had access to my personnel file.” She shivered and reached around to unhook her necklace. “I don’t want to wear this.” She dropped the jewelry on the table.

“Let me take care of contacting Phil.”

“No problem.” She took another sip of her coffee and held the cup close to her face for long after she swallowed. Lara lowered the cup. “What confuses me is why did Bernie even mention the necklace when he came to my lab? He could have told me about Tanya’s parents’ DNA being a match and left it at that. Instead, he gave me a detailed description of the origin of the jewelry.”

He’d definitely check out this guy. “Assuming he gave you the necklace, it might be his way of expressing he’s interested in you. Perhaps he wanted to see if you really liked the gift, wanted to hear you gush about it. Guys like him don’t have the courage to ask out a beautiful woman.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that must be it.” She put her cup down and fixed him with a stare. “Which brings us back to the conflicted note writer. Bernie isn’t dangerous. If he is our man, how could I help a lab tech rise to fame like he mentioned in the note?”

“Could the Tanya Dansler case give him any notoriety?”

Lara leaned back. “I don’t see how.”

Something had been bothering him from the beginning. “Let me ask you something. Why did you think the present was from me?”

Lara stilled, her gaze searching his face, and her cheeks colored.

When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Wouldn’t I have left it on the dining room table or on the kitchen counter for you to find first thing in the morning? Leaving a present on a doorstep is asking a thief to steal it.”

“The note said—”

He straightened. “There was a note?” Adrenaline shot through his system.

“Yes, didn’t I tell you? That’s why I thought the present was from you.”

He didn’t know whether to hug her or yell at her. Dribbling out all these pieces of information was driving him crazy. “Do you have the note? There might be fingerprints on the paper.”

“It’s at your apartment.”

Trevor stood. “Let’s go.”

Lara hadn’t intended to be at HOPEFAL on a Saturday night, but here they were in the cramped fingerprinting lab. The space consisted of one large table in the middle of the room and two smaller ones in opposite corners. On the center table sat two computers, a scanner, a cup of coffee, and a stack of printouts.

She’d dragged Nathan Kilpatrick from a party to fingerprint the incriminating evidence—the note left on her doorstep. To her surprise, he wasn’t angry.

“I love when I can help solve a crime.” Nathan had dusted the card, both boxes the jewelry had come in, and the pieces themselves. “There are prints here, but some will be yours or Detective Kinsey’s, which I will eliminate.” He turned to Trevor. “We have the prints of all our employees on file.”

She cut a quick glance at Trevor. Bernie’s prints would be on file too. Would he be the one incriminated?

Nathan stepped to the computer and scanned in the prints found on all five objects. He then placed the images side-by-side to her prints as well as to Trevor’s. She paced while Trevor hovered around the computer.

After what seemed forever, Nathan leaned back and blew out a breath. “Other than both of yours, I found no one’s.” He waved a finger in the air. “But don’t despair. I’ll put the box and the note in the superglue chamber. If there are any latent prints, this puppy will show them.”

The whole process would take over an hour, especially if he had to look for a match in the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Oh, how she wished for those mythical machines she saw on TV that would spit out a photo of the offender. Maybe someday that would happen.

She wanted to return upstairs to her lab and double check a marking she’d found on Tanya Dansler. After her discussion with Trevor, she had an idea what the small hole might be.

“I’ll leave you two boys to do your thing. I need to check something in my lab.” Good thing she’d had the foresight to ask the guard at the front desk if Bernie Laxman was working late. He was the last person she wanted to run into.

Trevor turned. “I’ll come with you. Nathan, let us know as soon as you have something.”

“Will do.”

Trevor placed his hand on her lower back and warm tingles caressed her spine. She had to stop reacting to his every touch. Yes, he had consoled her when her parents died, but she was certain his actions were out of pity. They had to be, or he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to dump her at a safe house or desert her in the morning, case or no case. She didn’t have to hear well to figure out he wanted to move on. After all, he wasn’t getting paid to be her bodyguard. Not to mention he had a day job.

It didn’t matter. She’d been on her own her whole life and could take care of herself.

They took the elevator to her second floor lab. Once inside, she brought Tanya Dansler out of the cooler. Eric had learned everything he could from the organs and soft tissue. Now, Tanya was in a state Lara could understand.

Trevor leaned over the table. “They’re just bones.”

She smiled. “That’s what I do for a living.”

He chuckled. “Smart ass.” He tapped the end of her nose.

She refused to read anything onto his action. “Look at the small hole in her hip bone.”

Trevor squinted. “You call that a hole? It looks like pitting to me.”

“Tanya Dansler had a tranquilizer/paralytic in her body.”

“And it got into her system via a needle that hit the bone and made a mark?”

“It’s a guess. I’m allowed gut theories too. I want to check if either Larry Jumper or John Doe #1 had similar needle holes.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Remember I was gone early this morning?”

How could she forget? “Yes.”

“The case involved a woman, Diana Gladstone, who was found behind a hotel in downtown.” He turned around and paced. “The killer made a mistake—a really big mistake.”

Lara grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. “Tell me.”