When Jenna made it into the kitchen, she was surprised Scot wasn’t there. The door to the bedroom was open, and she could see the room was empty. Had he gone somewhere without even leaving her a note? That didn’t seem very likely. She glanced out the big living room window and saw both her car and his truck still parked in front of the cabin. Maybe he’d gone for a run. She’d learned through Grey that the majority of men who had been in the service liked to keep in shape after they got out. Grey himself got up at five-thirty every morning to run five miles before heading to the office.

Oh, well, he’d turn up soon. She knew she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him. Scot’s ground rules.

With a mental shrug, she set about fixing a mug of coffee. She had just taken her first sip when the front door opened and the man himself walked in. It was hard for her not to notice the way his faded jeans clung to his legs and hips or how the long-sleeved T-shirt fit snugly over his well-muscled torso.

The minute they locked gazes, an electric charge sizzled through the room. Her body seemed to be disconnected from her brain because her nipples hardened and a pulse low in her body set up a silent drumbeat.

She wondered if Scot would say anything about what a hot mess she was last night. Or mention the kiss. The damn kiss. For an unbelievable moment, she was sure she could still taste his mouth on hers. How absurd was that, anyway? This wasn’t a movie where the handsome prince swoops in to save the beautiful princess by vanquishing the evil monster. There was no royalty in this room, and it was far from a movie. All it took was one look at Scot Nolan to blow that out of her brain. Whatever sizzle there was, either he wasn’t feeling it or he was ignoring it.

His features were set in that same implacable look she’d noticed the first time she saw him yesterday, and his eyes had the same flinty look. Last night’s version of Scot Nolan might as well not have existed.

Okay, then. That would make it a lot easier. She hoped.

“Out seeing the countryside?” she asked, just to make conversation.

“Checking something out.” He headed for the coffee machine.

“Checking what?”

She waited for more of an explanation and had to bite her tongue until he had filled his mug and turned back to her.

“Don’t freak out, but I think someone was watching this cabin last night.”

Don’t freak? Was he kidding?

“What makes you think that?” She was proud her voice was so steady and the hands cradling her mug didn’t shake.

“I’ve learned to trust my senses. I didn’t want to bring it up last night, what with…the situation.”

She was sure her freak out and the kiss were what he referred to. She took a sip of coffee.

“I can understand that.”

“So, this morning I just took a little stroll down the road to see if another cabin had a view of us, maybe where the road curves behind us. But whoever built these cabins did a great job. Each one sits in its own little isolated pocket.”

“So, then where? Who?”

“As to where, I think from one of the narrow road cut into the particular mountain in our view. As to who, I’d be damn surprised if it was anyone but the object of your investigation.”

For a moment, she was afraid the coffee she’d drunk would come right back up, so she swallowed hard, determined not to embarrass herself any more than she already had.

“So you think he knows I’m here?” Yes, dummy. Otherwise why spy on you? “I haven’t broadcast it around. The only person I’ve spoken to is Sheriff Bartell.” Then she shook her head. “No, the word must be out somehow. Becca Reiter wants to meet me at eleven about something she doesn’t want others to know. I’ll bet my next royalty check it’s about this.”

“And if she knows, others probably do,” Scot pointed out.

“So what do I do?”

“You do exactly what you came here to do. I’m going to call Hank and have him do some nosing around in a way that won’t trip any switches.”

Jenna’s stomach knotted. She had been so sure she could come in here and fly under the radar. She knew whoever this was had to be very rich and very powerful. If not for Scot, she was sure he could make her disappear without a trace. For the first time, she realized how right Grey had been to set this up for her. What she was setting out to do was personal for the man who had raped her and the others, and he’d do whatever it took to stop her.

“So, now what?” she asked.

“So, now we eat something, go see the sheriff and then have your meeting with Becca.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t think I could swallow food.”

“You have to eat something. You can’t fight stress on an empty stomach.”

“Toast.” She blew out a breath. “I can eat some toast. And I am more than capable of making it. But thank you.”

While she munched on a solitary slice of toast, Scot wolfed down two muffins with his coffee.

“The shape you’re in, I’d think muffins were off your food list.”

He grinned. An actual smile. “They’re my weakness. I just work out an extra hour and run an extra five miles.”

It tired her just thinking about it. She rinsed out her coffee mug, set it on the countertop, and picked up her purse and her tablet. “Ready whenever you are.”

He nodded.

As they rode into town, Jenna wondered if Scot was aware of the sexual tension riding in the cab with them. They might both have their reasons for vowing to ignore last night’s episode, especially that damn kiss. But if they were both honest, there was definitely something there, and it wasn’t going away just because they declared it would.

They were almost to town when Scot broke the silence.

“If you’re meeting your friend at eleven, will that give you enough time with the sheriff?”

“I’m pretty sure it will. I’ll want to go through all the reports and then talk to him again.”

“I don’t think the sheriff is going to give me more than the bare minimum of time it takes to get rid of me.”

“You think he’s trying to hide something?”

She’d had that thought and hoped that wasn’t the truth. Owen Bartell had been sheriff since before her mother had married Roger Holden and they’d moved to this area. From everything she’d checked into, he had a reputation as a good lawman and was well respected. Of course, from the many stories she’d written, she knew that didn’t always mean anything.

“Jenna?” Scot’s voice pierced her thoughts.

She gave herself a mental shake. “No. Well, maybe, but not for himself. He might know who it is. Or think he does.”

“He could be sanitizing those reports to protect whoever it is,” Scot pointed out.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. Anyway, here we are.”

The office of the county sheriff was a squat stone building that took up half of the block where it sat.

“Lot of room for an office,” Scot commented as they climbed out of his truck.

“That’s because the jail is attached to it. I guess when they built it they figured it was cheaper to do it all in one.” She stopped for a moment, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Again he checked the area, keeping her behind him, before he stepped aside so she could move forward.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You think he’d try to get me at the sheriff’s office?”

“Just not taking any chances, remember?

They stepped through the front door into a small reception area. Jenna tapped on the window to let the woman behind it know she was there.

“Jenna Donovan to see Sheriff Bartell. He’s expecting me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here.” She frowned. “You look a little familiar to me. Didn’t you used to live somewhere around here a long time ago?”

“Yes. I did.” She stepped away from the window before the woman could ask her any more questions.

“She must have a sharp eye,” Scot murmured in a low voice. “You haven’t been back here in fourteen years.

“I know. And when Becca came over to our booth last night, I was startled that she recognized me.”

“I’ll go back to something I said last night. I wonder how many other people around here have read either of your books?”

Before she could answer him, the inner door opened and Jeff Bartell’s big body filled the space.

“Come in, Jenna. Let’s get this over with.”

After acknowledging Scot with a brief nod, he stood aside so they could walk inside. As they followed the sheriff to his office in a far corner, Jenna noticed a small office on the right shared by the secretary and a man she thought might be the undersheriff. To the right, a larger office was filled with desks, about half of them currently occupied by deputies. Beyond that, an open space with more desks, a setup for dispatch and, on the far wall, doors leading to a couple of other rooms.

Jeff Bartell held the door to his office open so they could precede him then closed it and moved to sit behind his desk. He gestured Jenna and Scot to the two wooden chairs opposite it then picked up a folder on his desk and placed it in front of him.

“I want you to know right off the bat that the only thing I can give you is a copy of the press release we issued. Nothing else. These are all still open cases.”

Jenna crossed her legs and sat up straight in the chair. “I’ll take whatever you can give me. And I’d hoped you might answer just a question or two for me.”

“Why are you so interested in this particular situation? We’re pretty isolated out here, not a lot of traffic, not a lot of media interest. I’d like to know what turned you onto this case—or cases—and brought you all the way out here from the other side of the country. Or what made you even look for them. I read the two books you wrote as well as a couple of your more well-known stories. Usually you focus on crime in the major cities, so what caught your attention? We’re not exactly a thriving population center here, nor is it like we hit the big time news outlets.”

Jenna worded her response very carefully.

“Every so often I scan the Internet for little tidbits.” She wasn’t going to tell him about the email. “Natural reporter’s curiosity. And sometimes I’ll plug in the name of this county. When the items about the murders popped up, and there were so many of them, of course I was interested. I lived here for four years. Remember?”

”Of course I remember.” He scowled at her. “But I also recall you didn’t exactly make yourself a member of the community.”

“That doesn’t mean my interest isn’t piqued about this whole thing. A string of unsolved murders would juice up any reporter’s curiosity. I’m hoping you can at least answer a few questions for me. I mean, over and above the press release.”

He didn’t return her smile, just studied her again for a very long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he liked her answer.

“I’m sure you know that’s not how it goes,” he told her. “We have to proceed very carefully with these cases. Besides, we don’t even know if these deaths are connected. They span a few years.”

“I’m going to assume you did your job and checked all likely suspects, so I ask you. Is there any reason for you to think they’re not connected? I read that they were all murdered the same way and found in similar situations.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, “but I’d hate for you to take anything I say, jump to a wrong conclusion, and throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing.”

She chose her next words with great care, but she wanted to see what kind of reaction she could shock out of him. “The wrong conclusion being that all of these girls were raped, probably by the same man? And murdered after they filed a complaint?”

“Rape?” The sheriff’s face paled. “What the fuck? How did you— Who told you that?”

“A little birdie. But I’m right, aren’t I.”

A muscle worked in Bartell’s jaw. “Maybe I won’t be giving you a copy of the press release after all. Can’t have you stirring up this town with lies.”

She leaned forward. “They aren’t lies, and I’m sure you damn well know that. Someone’s getting away with a heinous crime here, Sheriff, over and over again. And how many girls do you think were raped who’ve never come forward?”

He leaned forward. “We worked damn fucking hard to keep those complaints under the table. I wanted to be sure we did a thorough investigation before we accused someone of such a heinous crime.”

Jenna gave a ladylike snort. “And how’s that working out for you? Got any clues? Did you just think it was a coincidence that soon after a girl filed a report with you, she was killed?”

“Of course I didn’t.” He slammed his fist on the desk. “I’ve been working the murders hoping they would let me backtrack to who the killer is.”

“And ultimately the rapist? But you’ve got nothing so far, right?” She blew out a breath. “Look, Sheriff. I’m not going away. This story is important to me for personal reasons. I really don’t want to butt heads with you over this if I don’t have to. I’ve done this enough before that I know how to be discreet and when to keep my mouth shut.”

“I checked you out with the news services and your publisher. They all gave you high marks for discretion, so I’m going to break my own rule here.” He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know how you came to know about the rapes, but I’m asking you to give me your word that you won’t go blabbing about it to anyone while you’re out asking your questions. I want your word on that.”

She nodded. “You have it.”

“Okay.” He blew out a breath. “One of the reasons we haven’t moved forward more on the rape charges is the girls were unable to give much of a description of the guy. They didn’t lay eyes on him. All they could tell me was he was a big man. That could fit a hundred men around here.”

“I’m planning to talk to the parents,” Jenna told him. “See if maybe any of the girls said something that’s lodged in their memories.”

He scowled at her. “You really think it’s a good idea to dredge all that up with these poor people? Isn’t what they have to live with bad enough?”

Jenna bit back the retort that threatened to pop out of her mouth.

“I assure you, I can be very discreet and sensitive. And I certainly won’t do anything to impede your investigation.” She emphasized the last word.

Anger sparked in his eyes. “Are you implying that I’m not doing my job?”

“I’m not implying anything. But it seems a little baffling that nine murders that are exact duplicates of each other haven’t been solved in all these years, and that it’s highly likely whoever this is continues to commit rape unheeded.”

Bartell leaned forward, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You’d best be very careful what you do out there, missy. You’re right. This is a dangerous man. You don’t want to poke him too hard.”

“Are you worried I might uncover something while I work on this story?”

“If you do,” he said in a hard, uninflected voice, “I expect you to bring it to me at once and not share it with anyone.” He narrowed his eyes at Scot. “And what’s with him?”

“Scot and I are a couple.” She was proud she didn’t stumble over the words. “I trust him with anything and everything.” With my life, she thought. “And he’ll make sure nothing happens to me.”

Bartell studied both of them for a long moment.

“Fine.” He slid a sheet of paper from the folder and handed it across the desk to her.

Jenna studied it. There wasn’t much more than he’d already told her, and certainly no mention of the rape. There was, however, a very brief description of the condition of the bodies when they were discovered. Jenna made a mental note to study that later. She slid the sheet of paper into her messenger bag and rose from the chair.

“Thank you.” She held out her hand. “I appreciate the time.”

The sheriff stood, also. His handshake was firm.

“Don’t make me regret it, okay? I’d hate to ask you to leave town because you said or did the wrong thing.”

What a jackass.

“I can promise you that won’t happen. And if I learn anything, I’ll bring it right to you.”

“Fine.”

The two men shook hands then Jenna followed Scot through the offices and out to the parking lot. It wasn’t until they were out on the street and headed away from the building that she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well! That was some meeting.”

“Sheriff Bartell is so uptight he almost vibrates,” Scot commented.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I wish I knew whether it’s because he has nine unsolved homicides on his desk and people probably screaming for his head. Or because he’s somehow involved and worried I’ll ferret it out. I have the feeling he’s protecting someone, don’t you?”

“Yes. Probably whoever quietly bankrolls his elections and keeps him in office. Let’s go see what your friend Becca has to say. Maybe she can shed some light on this.”

“Maybe. Let’s hope so. Otherwise, I’ve got a long haul to dig anything out.”