Jaci couldn’t sit still when she was nervous.

So, leaving Rylan to study the security footage over and over, she grabbed her cleaning supplies and polished the house from top to bottom.

She’d just finished scrubbing the kitchen floor when Rylan strolled into the room, shoving his cell phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

A pang of regret twisted her heart. Just a couple hours ago Rylan had been warm and naked lying next to her. His golden hair had been mussed from her fingers and his eyes dark with hunger.

She wished they could go back to that time. She would have insisted they stay in bed.

It wouldn’t have solved her problems. But it would have been a lot more fun than worrying about what was going to happen when her mother discovered her son was a psychotic killer.

A shudder raced through her as she straightened and studied Rylan’s grim expression.

“That was O’Brien,” he said as she sent him a quizzical glance.

Dread lodged in the pit of her stomach. Had he arrested Christopher?

“What does he want?”

“He asked us to meet him at his office. He wants to go through the video from last night.”

She frowned. Mike had spent over an hour watching the security tape earlier in the day. It seemed impossible to believe he’d missed anything.

“Again?”

“Yep.”

Jaci narrowed her gaze. He’d been edgy since they’d found the locket. Now he was nearly vibrating with tension.

“Did he say why?” she asked.

His hands clenched at his sides. “He claimed the figure we caught on camera isn’t your brother.”

Jaci jerked in surprise. She’d spent the past hours trying to reconcile herself to the thought that her half brother was not only a cold-blooded killer, but that he’d harbored some sick obsession with her.

“I don’t understand.” She gave a slow shake of her head. “How does he know it wasn’t Christopher?”

“Your stepfather had him committed to a rehab facility in St. Louis.”

“Rehab? You mean for drugs?”

Rylan nodded. “Yeah. And it’s not the first time he’s been committed.”

She leaned against the edge of the counter. It was a lot easier to see her brother as a drug addict than a serial killer. He’d been partying since he was in junior high. In fact, he’d gotten thrown out of school for hiding beer in his locker when he was just fourteen.

“When?” she asked.

“Yesterday.”

Which proved he couldn’t have been sneaking up her drive to leave behind the bloody locket.

“But that had to be his car,” she said. “Who else in town can afford a Jaguar?”

“Your stepfather told the sheriff that it was at the auto shop in town.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Anyone could have stolen it.”

Jaci tapped her fingers against the side of her leg, trying to imagine the killer stealing a car so he could deliver his gruesome necklace. Why choose a vehicle that would be so easily noticed? Then, she abruptly remembered Rylan’s confusion about the killer parking so close to the house.

He’d wanted them to catch the car on camera.

“Someone deliberately tried to pin the crimes on Christopher.”

“It seems so.”

Jaci rubbed her aching temples. The killer had been so cautious until now. He hadn’t left the smallest clue. Now he was stealing expensive sports cars and making sure he was seen on security cameras?

It didn’t make sense.

“But why?” she demanded.

“Another way to taunt me.” Rylan’s voice was edged with a lethal fury. “He likes to prove how smart he is.”

She understood his anger. If her half brother wasn’t the serial killer, then he was still out there. Waiting to strike again.

“I didn’t want it to be Christopher,” she said. “I might not get along with my family, but I would never wish for them to go through something like that.” She was fairly sure that the humiliation of a trial, let alone the potential death sentence for her only son, would have sent Loreen Hamilton over the edge. “Still . . .” Her words trailed away as a shudder raced through her.

Rylan moved across the kitchen, pulling her into his arms. “You want this to be over.”

“Yes.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “No one could blame you, Jaci.”

She heaved a rueful sigh. “Then why do I feel guilty?”

“Because you’re a kind, gentle woman who cares about others. Even when they don’t deserve it.”

He made her sound like a saint. A very boring saint.

“I’m not always kind,” she protested. “Or gentle.”

He chuckled, easily picking up on her annoyance. “True.” He lifted his head to reveal a wicked smile playing around his lips. “I have scratch marks on my back that prove you have violent tendencies when properly motivated.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. She had a vivid memory of making those scratch marks. And an equally vivid fantasy of making more of them.

But not until they’d taken the security tapes to Mike. If there was the slightest possibility the tapes could help track down the killer, they couldn’t afford to waste any time.

“We should go,” she said.

His arms tightened around her. “I don’t like you leaving the house.”

“I can’t stay locked in here forever.”

“Why not?” He lowered his head to brush his lips over her brow. “We could order our food and have it delivered. I could work from my computer, and you could have your customers drive out here to pick up their usual orders.” He pressed a lingering kiss on her lips. “A perfect solution.”

It did sound perfect.

And completely unrealistic.

“I’d give you twenty-four hours before you were pacing the floor,” she said. Rylan had a restless energy that would be stifled by being stuck in the house. “Besides, Mike is waiting for us.”

He traced the curve of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “Let him wait.”

It was a temptation. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t prefer to lock the doors and spend the next few weeks in the arms of Rylan?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just her life that was in danger.

“The sooner we find the killer, the sooner we can go to the beach,” she reminded her companion.

He arched a brow. “Blackmail?”

She shrugged. “Incentive.”

Rylan heaved a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mike had been prepared for the worst when he’d gone to Carol’s tiny house. As much as he told himself not to leap to conclusions, he couldn’t help but consider the fact that his administrative assistant had failed to show up for work the morning after Jaci had received a locket.

It could be a thousand other reasons.

Well, maybe not a thousand, but certain three or four.

Larry could have turned out to be Mr. Right and they were on their way to Vegas. There could have been a family emergency and she forgot to call him. She could have told one of the deputies that she was sick, and they hadn’t passed along the message.

But he was already preparing to discover she was simply gone.

Vanished into thin air like Anne Dixon. And Angel Harper.

Arriving at her house, he’d found the front door unlocked and had done a quick search. She wasn’t there. And her bed hadn’t been slept in. His fear had only deepened.

While he was checking with the local hospital to make sure she hadn’t been in an accident, he’d called in his deputies. Even Sid. He wanted all hands on deck to start searching the area for Carol.

He was watching the last two squad cars squeal out of the lot to head toward their search area when the Jeep pulled in. With an effort, he forced himself to wait for Rylan and Jaci to jump out of the vehicle and walk toward him.

He wanted to be out on the hunt. Carol was like family to him. The thought of staying in his office while everyone else was searching for her was making his gut twist into painful knots.

It was only the knowledge that they didn’t have any clue where she might be hidden that kept him from leaping in his truck. What was the point in dashing around like a madman?

It made far more sense to devote his energies to discovering who was responsible for taking her.

That was the only way they were going to be able to bring her home safely. God willing, let it be safely.

Rylan stopped next to him, a laptop in his hands. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s go inside,” he said, aware that several locals had already noticed the unusual activity around the courthouse and were gathering on the corner to watch him with curious gazes.

Rylan glanced toward the small crowd. “Good idea.”

The three of them entered Mike’s office and he firmly closed the door behind them.

“Carol is missing,” he told them, instantly regretting his blunt confession when Jaci swayed in shock.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, leaning against Rylan as the man wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders. “Do you think she was taken by the killer?”

Mike moved to lean against the edge of the desk. He was tired, frustrated, and acutely afraid for his friend. It all combined to make it difficult to think clearly.

“I’m trying not to jump to conclusions,” he told Jaci.

She visibly shivered. “We should be looking for her.”

“I have everyone I could call in trying to find her.”

“How long has she been missing?” Rylan demanded.

“She didn’t show up for her shift this morning,” Mike said, glancing toward the wall clock. One o’clock. Damn. The day was slipping away. “She should have been here by eight.”

Rylan’s expression was grim. “I’m assuming you checked her house.”

Mike glared in his direction. “You assume right.”

“When was the last time her family saw her?”

“She lives alone. She doesn’t have any children and her mother is in the local nursing home. She’s suffered from Alzheimer’s for years.”

Rylan easily realized what the lack of relatives would mean. “So no one would notice if she was taken?”

“Exactly.” Mike grimaced. “She went to Quincy with her current boyfriend last night. I called him as soon as I realized she was missing. He says he brought her home around midnight.”

“Do you believe him?” Rylan asked.

Mike had grilled Larry until the man had broken down in tears. It wasn’t that he’d suspected the man as Jaci’s stalker. A quick background check had revealed that he’d been living in Tennessee until two years ago. But he knew it would be a mistake to simply assume that Carol’s disappearance was connected to the serial killer.

After all, bad things happened to women all the time. And usually it could be blamed on the man in their lives.

He had to eliminate the most obvious person first.

“He claims he has a credit card receipt from a quickie mart in West Quincy,” Mike said. “He stopped on his way home to buy a pack of cigarettes. I sent Hal to check the video, but for now I’m going to assume he’s telling the truth.”

Rylan moved to set the laptop he was holding on the desk. Almost as if sensing that Mike needed a minute to regain the leash on his temper.

The truth was that Mike was furious with himself.

He’d known there was a killer in the area, but he hadn’t insisted that Carol stay with him until the danger had passed. Hell, he hadn’t even considered the fact that she might be a target.

Now she was gone and he had no one to blame but himself.

He sucked in a deep, steadying breath. The only way to help her was to keep his shit together and concentrate on figuring out who the hell was responsible.

“Was there any sign of struggle at her house?” Rylan asked as he moved back to stand next to Jaci.

“No, but when I got there the front door was unlocked and the lights in the kitchen were on.”

Jaci bit her bottom lip. “Can you use her cell phone to track her?”

Mike shook his head. That’d been his first thought. Until he’d caught sight of the bag carelessly tossed on the table.

“I found her phone and her purse in the kitchen.”

“It sounds like someone was waiting when she got home,” Rylan said.

“Yeah.” Mike had done a sweep of her small yard, finding a set of footprints that went from the side of the house to the front porch. “It would have been easy to stay hidden in the bushes and follow her through the door. Or even for him to have popped the lock and waited inside.”

Jaci made a sound of distress. Her face was pale, her body rigid as she anxiously clenched and unclenched her hands.

“What can we do?”

Understanding her need to help, Mike moved to take a seat at his desk, flipping open the laptop.

“I want to look at the video. There has to be a clue to who is responsible.”

“Let me,” Rylan said, crossing to stand at Mike’s side. He reached down to tap on the keyboard, bringing up the video.

“If it wasn’t Christopher at my house last night, how did someone get his car?” Jaci asked.

Mike leaned toward the computer screen. The man was average height. Average weight. Wearing average clothing.

Average, average, average. It could be anyone, dammit.

“Someone obviously stole it from Lowe’s lot. It was parked near the back alley,” he answered in distracted tones. “It would have been easy to take it for a few hours and return it without anyone knowing.”

“Was it hot-wired?” Rylan demanded. “That’s not as easy as they make it look on TV. Someone would have to know what he was doing.”

Mike gave a short, humorless laugh. “The keys were left under the front seat.”

Rylan muttered a low curse. “Of course they were.”

“It’s a small town,” Mike said.

It was the neighborly sense of trust that made it so easy for a serial killer to move unseen through the town. There were no security cameras. People left their keys in their cars and their doors unlocked. And they didn’t hesitate to walk alone at night.

And while a part of Mike was frustrated by the thought that they were all more or less sitting ducks, a greater part of him was saddened by the thought that their innocence was going to be stripped away.

Even if they caught the bastard who was terrorizing Jaci, things in Heron would never be the same.

Rewinding the video to watch it again, Mike was interrupted when Jaci made a strangled sound, her head turned toward the window.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “It’s Carol.”

“What?” Mike jumped to his feet, heading toward his private door to wrench it open.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of the woman stumbling across the nearby park that he finally accepted the she truly was alive.

God. He’d tried desperately to hold on to hope, but he’d known deep in his heart that the likelihood of her being alive was almost nonexistent.

The killer had slaughtered at least three other women, and probably many, many more.

Plus, Jaci had received another bloody locket.

Why offer his gruesome tribute if he hadn’t killed his victim?

Unless Carol had managed to escape.

Shaking off his weird sense of disbelief, Mike forced his heavy feet to move forward. He met Carol as she reached the edge of the parking lot, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her directly into his office.

The crowd was still gathered at the corner. The sooner he got her away from prying eyes, the better.

Rylan was waiting as Mike led Carol over the threshold, firmly closing the door behind them. At the same time, Jaci was moving his chair away from the desk and swiveling it so Mike could ease his companion onto the worn leather cushion.

He crouched directly in front of the shivering woman, his worried gaze skimming over her.

Her white slacks were grubby, as if she’d been rolling in dust, and a couple of cobwebs were clinging to her cherry-red sweater. Her face was the shade of paste and a trickle of blood ran from her temple down her cheek. Her lower face was red and chapped, as if she’d been rubbing it against something rough.

Or as if she’d just ripped off duct tape.

His gaze skimmed down to her throat where dark bruises that looked like fingerprints stained her pale skin.

A combination of relief, anger, and unease churned through Mike as he reached to brush away a cobweb.

“We should get you to the hospital,” he said.

Carol shuddered, her expression dazed. “I’m fine.”

“I prefer a doctor tell me that,” he informed her.

A fleeting smile touched her lips. “I promise I’ll go get myself checked out later. First I want to make my report.”

He scowled. “Stubborn.”

“I was born and bred in Missouri,” Carol said, a bit of color returning to her cheeks. “Stubborn is what we do.”

“Here.” Jaci suddenly appeared at Carol’s side with a glass of water.

The older woman grabbed the glass and drank deeply. Using her momentary distraction, Mike nodded toward Rylan. He knew Carol well enough to accept that she wasn’t leaving until she’d told him what had happened to her. But he wasn’t going to let her stubbornness put her health at risk.

Plus, she needed to be thoroughly examined for any evidence. If she’d been in close contact with the killer, then there was a chance he might have left behind a DNA sample that would allow them to track down the bastard. Or at least put him away once they had him in custody.

Meeting his gaze, Rylan instantly understood what he wanted. Crossing to the far side of the office, Rylan pulled out his cell phone to call for an ambulance.

Mike returned his attention to Carol, who started to cough from gulping the water so fast.

“Breathe,” he commanded in soft tones as Jaci took the empty glass from the older woman’s hand and stepped back, allowing Carol a sense of privacy. He waited for her to stop coughing before urging her to speak. “Now tell me what happened,” he said.

Her hands twisted together in her lap, tiny shivers still shaking her body. But with a courage he fiercely admired, she squared her shoulders and met his steady gaze.

“I went out last night with Larry.” She forced the words out, her voice husky. From lingering fear, or had her throat been damaged? “It was going well enough, but I started thinking back to our conversation about fireworks.”

“Fireworks?” Rylan questioned as he put away his phone and regarded Mike with a lift of his brows.

Mike ignored the interruption, giving Carol’s fingers another squeeze.

“And?”

“And I decided we weren’t going to be more than friends, so I asked him to bring me home.”

“Was he angry?” Mike demanded.

Carol looked confused. Then she gave a sharp shake of her head as she realized he was asking if Larry had been responsible for hurting her.

“No. Nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman.” She winced, as if the movement of her head was painful. “It’s a shame I couldn’t feel more for him.”

Mike’s lips twisted. Yeah. It was a shame that a person couldn’t choose whom to love with their head and not their heart.

“Larry took you home?” he asked as Carol became lost in silent regret.

“Yeah.” She glanced toward Jaci, who hurried to refill the glass. Tugging her hand out of Mike’s grasp, she accepted the water and took another deep drink. “I waited for him to drive away and I went inside,” she at last continued.

Mike visualized Carol waving good-bye to her date and then walking up the steps to her front porch.

“Did you notice anything before you went inside?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Carol shuddered. “But I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“No car parked in the street that you didn’t recognize?” Mike pressed. “Was the porch light on or off?”

The older woman’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember seeing any car. I think I would have noticed that.” She paused. “And I’m pretty sure the porch light was off.”

Mike gave an encouraging nod. “What happened next?”

“I went inside.”

“Was the door locked?” Mike asked.

Carol paused, clearly trying to organize her scattered thoughts.

“Oh,” she finally breathed. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t have to use my key.” She hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t really notice since it’s not that unusual for me to forget to turn the latch when I’m in a hurry.”

“Someone was waiting inside?”

The older woman made a muffled sound of fear before she was grimly tilting her chin, refusing to give in to the panic that no doubt threatened to consume her.

“Yes.” Carol licked her lips. “I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I was almost to the fridge when I felt a pair of hands around my neck.” A shudder shook through her body and the empty glass fell to the floor. Her fingers lifted to touch the splotches of color on her throat. “I tried to scream but he just kept squeezing. I thought I was going to die.”

Jaci hurried across the room to grab Mike’s Windbreaker that he’d hung on a hook on the back of the door. Then, returning to Carol, she wrapped it around her shoulders. The office felt smothering hot to Mike, but Carol was in shock.

“It’s okay,” Jaci said softly. “You’re safe now.”

“Thank God,” Carol rasped. “Thank God, thank God.”

Mike resisted the impulse to tug her out of the chair and into his arms. Right now, Carol didn’t need him to be a friend. She needed him to be a sheriff who could capture the bastard who’d attacked her in her own home.

“Can you tell me what happened after you felt him grab you by the neck?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head, this time making sure she didn’t rattle her sore brains. “I passed out.”

“Do you know how long you were unconscious?” he asked.

“Not for very long,” she said. “It was still dark when I woke up.”

Mike gave a slow nod. Was it possible that she’d woken up before the killer expected? He might have left the locket and then planned to return and finish off Carol at his leisure. Serial killers liked to take their time with victims, didn’t they?

Or maybe he was interrupted.

“Where were you?” he abruptly asked.

Surprisingly Carol hesitated, biting her lower lip. “You’re not going to like this.”

Mike frowned. “Tell me.”

“I was in the small shed behind your house.”

It took a full minute for Mike to absorb what she was telling him.

While he’d been sleeping, and then during the hours he’d wasted trying to locate Christopher, his friend had been locked in the old shed just a hundred yards from his back door?

The wooden structure had been there when Mike had moved in, but the roof leaked and the boards were rotting around the edge of the floor. He’d been intending to have it torn down, but he never could seem to find the time.

Now he surged upright, a blast of fury shaking his tightly coiled body.

“That bastard,” he hissed.

He felt Rylan moving to stand next to him, as if the other man understood that he was on the point of doing something idiotic. Like running out the door and arresting everyone he could round up. If he locked up everyone in town, he was bound to catch the serial killer. Right?

Easily sensing his distress, Carol pasted on a stiff smile.

“You should have seen me. I was tied up like a Christmas goose and I had a piece of duct tape over my mouth. It was something more than one of my ex-husbands always wanted to do.”

Her attempt to tease Mike out of his grim mood fell flat. He felt sick to his stomach.

He’d originally thought Carol’s disappearance had been somehow related to Jaci. The killer clearly had a weird fascination with her. Or it could have been that Carol simply had been a target of convenience. He could have known she lived alone and that he could take her without attracting notice.

Now he realized that she’d been taken because of him.

The killer was telling him that he wasn’t afraid of the law. And in particular, the sheriff.

It was a direct insult.

Mike struggled to regain control of his emotions as Rylan smoothly took command.

“How did you get away?”

Carol absently rubbed her wrists, which were sore and raw.

“It took me hours, but I finally managed to wriggle my hands enough to loosen the ropes.”

Rylan nodded. “Then you walked here?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking very clearly.” She glanced toward Mike. “I knew you would be frantic. I had to get here and tell you that I was okay.”

“I was frantic,” Mike assured her, squashing his anger as he once again squatted down in front of her.

This woman had escaped a lunatic and then walked across town to make sure he wouldn’t be worried about her. He needed to concentrate on her needs, not allow himself to be consumed with anger.

“What can you tell us about him?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m sorry.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Believe me, I spent the past few hours trying to recall anything that might help, but there’s nothing.”

“You didn’t see him?” Mike asked.

“No.” Her features tightened as she forced herself to think back to the moment she’d been attacked. “He came from behind. I could see a fuzzy reflection in the kitchen window, but he had on a mask and a heavy hoodie.”

Mike turned his head to share a glance with Rylan. They were both leaping to similar conclusions. The guy on the video leaving the locket at Jaci’s garage had been wearing a hoodie. It had to be the same person.

“Was he wearing gloves?” Rylan asked.

Carol paused before giving a small nod. “Yes. I remember feeling the leather against my skin.”

Mike frowned. He could hear the distant sound of sirens. Which meant he had only a couple of minutes to get any clues that might lead him to the stalker.

“Do you know how tall he was?” he asked.

“A few inches taller than me,” Carol said. “I could feel his chin pressing the back of my head.”

He smiled. Carol was proving to be almost as efficient in her role as witness as she was as an assistant.

“Less than six foot?”

She gave a slow nod. “I think so. But he was strong. I thought he was going to snap my neck in two.”

His smile faded as he lifted a hand to lightly touch her temple where blood stained her skin. He couldn’t see any visible wound.

“Did he hit you?” he demanded, his fingers pushing aside her tangled hair.

“No. I don’t know how I got the cut. It’s not very deep,” Carol assured him.

Mike’s spine stiffened as he caught sight of the clump of hair that had been cut off at the root, and the shallow wound that looked like it could have come from a razor.

He exchanged another glance with Rylan. This had to be the spot where the stalker had gotten the hair and blood to put in the locket.

Of course, he hadn’t had the latest locket tested for DNA, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that it was going to match this woman.

The sound of sirens became deafening as the ambulance pulled into the lot.

“Your ride is here,” he murmured, about to rise and open the door.

Carol reached up to grab his hand, her expression troubled. “I don’t understand.”

He grimaced. He hated like hell that she’d gotten caught up in this mess. She certainly didn’t deserve to be terrorized just because she happened to work in the sheriff’s office.

“None of this makes any sense,” he told her.

Her grip tightened. “No . . . I mean, I don’t understand why he didn’t kill me.”

Mike slowly shoved himself upright, gazing down at her pale face.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Just one thing,” she whispered, her eyes darkening with a lingering fear. “A pawn for a queen.”