Can they stay one step ahead of a serial killer?

A Rangers of Big Bend thriller

FBI profiler Rebecca Wade is used to tough, gruesome cases. But a serial killer targeting women in Big Bend National Park gets under her skin in a way she never anticipated. Alongside her unexpected partner—enigmatic park ranger Quinn Gallagher—Rebecca must race against the clock to prevent more innocent lives from being lost and achieve justice at last.

LARA LACOMBE earned a PhD in microbiology and immunology and worked in several labs across the country before moving into the classroom. Her day job as a college science professor gives her time to pursue her other love—writing fast-paced romantic suspense with smart, nerdy heroines and dangerously attractive heroes. She loves to hear from readers! Find her on the web or contact her at laralacombewriter@gmail.com.

Also by Lara Lacombe

Rangers of Big Bend

Ranger’s Justice

The Coltons of Red Ridge

Colton K-9 Bodyguard

Doctors in Danger

Enticed by the Operative

Dr. Do-or-Die

Her Lieutenant Protector

The Coltons of Shadow Creek

Pregnant by the Colton Cowboy

The Coltons of Texas

Colton Baby Homecoming

Deadly Contact

Fatal Fallout

Lethal Lies

Killer Exposure

Killer Season

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Ranger’s Justice

Lara Lacombe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07932-7

RANGER’S JUSTICE

© 2018 Lara Kingeter

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Never said you did,” Rebecca replied smoothly. “I’m just laying out the facts here. It’s one thing to stumble across one dead body. But to find two in two weeks? That’s some exceptional luck.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Quinn muttered.

“Neither would I,” she said, her tone suddenly harsh. “What is it about you, Quinn Gallagher? Don’t you find it odd that you’ve come across three—no, four—dead women in the last two years?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he faltered. For the first time, a kernel of fear took root in his chest. Was he really going to be blamed for the deaths of these women?

“Well, I have,” she responded. “And let me tell you, it’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” he said.

“Well, what do you know?” She leaned back and smiled broadly. “Neither do I.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the Rangers of Big Bend series! I’m so excited to dive into this world! As a native Texan, I’m proud to set these stories in one of our most beautiful parks. I’m not much of a camper, but even I can appreciate the beauty of Big Bend—it truly is a special place.

Quinn and Rebecca are two weary souls faced with a terrible situation. It would be easy for them to let the circumstances further harden their protective shells, but against all odds, they find themselves working together with both their heads and their hearts. I hope you enjoy their journey, and be sure to return for the rest of the series!

Happy reading!

Lara Lacombe

This one is for Dr. Kuban. Thanks for everything!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

She was very nearly perfect.

He stood over her, head cocked to the side as he ran his gaze over her still form. Limbs arranged just so, hair an artful tangle obscuring her face, one sightless eye playing peekaboo from between the strands. Yes. This would do.

He stripped off his gloves and shoved them into the bag at his feet. Walking over to a small shrub nearby, he broke off a dry branch and set about erasing the footprints he’d left in the sand. It was tedious, almost boring work, but it was important he destroy any evidence that might point in his direction. The police might catch him someday, but he still had much to do.

Finally finished, he stood on the rocky trail and surveyed his work. Pride surged through him, along with a pang of regret. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to tell her all the secrets of his heart. But as much as he wanted to linger, it was too big of a risk. The first orange tendrils of dawn were streaking across the sky, and hikers started early in the park. Better for him to leave. She wouldn’t be lonely long—someone would find her soon enough.

“Goodbye, lady,” he whispered. He blew a kiss on the wind and smiled sadly. “I enjoyed our time together. I’ll see you again.”

With one final glance back, he turned and set off down the trail.

* * *

Park ranger Quentin “Quinn” Gallagher crested the small hill and paused, adjusting his hat against the glare of the morning sun. The ground was still cool from the night, but the air was warm and it wouldn’t take long for the heat of the day to set in.

The trail in this section of the park was rocky and on an incline, and he stepped carefully as he set off again. He hadn’t run into anyone so far, but that would likely change on his trek back. This was one of the more challenging trails in the park, and experienced hikers liked to test their mettle against the sloping switchbacks and narrow path. The reward for their determination was one of the best views in the park, which, in Quinn’s mind, made up for all the work.

He enjoyed hiking for pleasure, but for today’s journey he was focused on work. Yesterday, two campers had reported a section of safety railing was deteriorating to the point of falling down. Since the area in question was in an especially treacherous area, Quinn had volunteered to check it out today. He had a few supplies in his backpack, but if things looked as bad as the campers had described, he’d probably have to close the trail until they could bring a crew in to repair the damage.

The muscles in his legs burned pleasantly as he moved up the mountain. Big Bend National Park was no match for the Rocky Mountains, but the Chisos range was nothing to laugh at, either. The landscape changed as he made his ascent up Emory Peak, the low, green scrubland giving way to exposed rock. Small clumps of weeds sprouted tenaciously in the gaps between rocks, and he passed the skeleton of a rabbit, the bones bleached white from exposure. Quinn knew he was getting close as he spied the large solar panel and tall antennae at the top of the peak—the equipment was part of the two-way radio system employed by the Park Service in Big Bend. It wasn’t the prettiest of additions, but the setup served an important purpose.

He rounded a curve and a flash of pink caught his eye. He paused, scanning the area again with a slight frown. The land in this part of the park was all browns and greens—pink was definitely not a normal part of the scenery. Probably trash left behind by some hikers, he thought sourly. Most people were respectful of nature and took pains to collect their debris, but there were always a few bad apples who couldn’t be bothered to do the right thing. He peered against the glare of the sun, hoping to catch the flash of color again. A breeze drifted by, and he saw pink flutter in the wind. Over there—about twenty feet off the trail.

Quinn carefully moved off the trail, mindful of where he stepped so as not to cause too much damage to the landscape. As he approached, it looked like the pink was a bit of fabric caught on the branches of the bushes that dotted the area. Maybe a scarf, or perhaps a discarded jacket cast off by a hiker who got too hot on the trail.

He bent down to untangle the fabric and froze as he got his first good look at the spot. His body seemed to recognize what he was seeing before his brain registered the scene—the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a chill swept over him.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. His stomach twisted violently, and he turned away as a wave of nausea propelled his breakfast up and out of his body. He retched into the bushes, then reluctantly turned back, his hand pressed to his mouth.

The woman was on her back, impossibly still, her arms bent at the elbows and hands resting over her heart. Her knees were bent and the soles of her feet were pressed together, leaving her legs splayed out in a grotesque parody of a yoga pose. She looked almost peaceful, except for the horribly tangled hair arranged across her face, obscuring her features. One cloudy blue eye was visible in a gap between the strands, staring lifelessly at the sky.

Quinn’s heart pounded in his chest and blood thundered in his ears. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the body and try to comprehend what he was seeing. Working as a park ranger, he was no stranger to death—he’d come across the carcasses of animals from time to time, but that was just a part of nature. This—this was something else entirely.

He reached out and touched the side of her neck with his fingertip, feeling for a pulse he knew wasn’t there. Still, he had to be sure.

Her skin was cold to the touch, her flesh unnaturally stiff under his finger. He snatched his hand back and rubbed it over his pants, trying to erase the feeling of death before it could fully take hold of him.

He closed his eyes as a memory assaulted him, filling his senses.

Ashley. His wife. Her body lying twisted on a different trail, bones broken from the fall that had taken her life.

A wave of helplessness made his knees buckle, and Quinn fell to the ground, tears streaming down his face. He had arrived too late to save Ashley. And now it seemed history was repeating itself.

Except... He frowned as his whirling thoughts began to settle. Ashley had fallen over the edge of a trail while hiking in Yosemite National Park, landing on a small outcrop twenty feet below. That didn’t seem to be the case here. While the woman’s body lay in a small declivity in the land, there was no overhang nearby, no cliff she might have tumbled off. It was as if she’d dropped from the sky, placed here by some unseen hand.

Murder.

The word appeared out of nowhere, a shout in his mind that cut through the fog of his shock and memories. He forced himself to really look at the body, searching for signs of injury or foul play. There was nothing obvious to see, but he knew without a doubt this woman had been killed.

His hand shaking, Quinn reached for his radio and called back to base to report this sad discovery. Given his position on the trail, it was going to take a couple of hours before anyone could reach him. Dispatch assured him the police were on their way, and Quinn resigned himself to the fact he was going to have to stay on the scene until they arrived. He moved back to the trail and hiked down to the closest switchback, then draped a rope across the trail and affixed a small Trail Closed sign to it. His fellow rangers would close off the trail at its start, but he wanted to make sure any hikers who had already set out wouldn’t stumble across the scene.

With a sigh, he returned to the body. He didn’t want to stay nearby, but it felt wrong somehow to leave her alone. He debated draping his light jacket over her face—he wanted to give her some dignity—but in the end he held back. If he touched her again or interfered with the scene in any way it would make it harder for the police to do their job.

Not knowing what else to do, Quinn sat a few feet away in the paltry shade of one of the bushes, keeping company with a dead woman and the ghost of his wife.

Chapter 1

Two weeks later

“Do I need a lawyer?”

Rebecca Wade paused in the doorway to the interrogation room, taken aback by the question. As a psychologist in the FBI’s famous Behavioral Analysis Unit, she’d interviewed all sorts of men and women over the years. She had dealt with any number of threats, both overt and subtle, lies, tears, accusations, claims of innocence and a few attempted seductions during these conversations. Rarely were the people she talked to so direct right off the bat.

She closed the door behind her with a soft snick. “That depends,” she said.

The man stiffened at the sound of her voice, and he turned around to face her. His eyes widened when he saw her. “You’re a woman.”

Rebecca lifted one eyebrow. “Is that going to be a problem?” Her mind was already whirring with possibilities. She was here to talk to him about the deaths of two women in Big Bend National Park. This ranger had found their bodies a week apart, making him a potential suspect in the murders. And if he was such a blatant misogynist, maybe this conversation wasn’t going to take as long as she’d estimated.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “Not a problem. Just a surprise.” He pushed back the chair and stood, and Rebecca’s body tensed. Was he going to attack? It wouldn’t be the first time a suspect had come after her, and while she was confident in her self-defense skills, she didn’t want to test them against this man. He was taller than her by a good six or seven inches, and he likely outweighed her by about forty pounds.

He must have read the tension on her face because he took a step back and gestured to the chair across from him. Rebecca kept her gaze on him as she took the long way around the table. Only when she had taken a seat did he sit back down, and she realized with a small shock that he had jumped to his feet in a display of manners rather than an attempt to scare her.

Interesting.

“As I was saying, Mr. Gallagher, you’re not under arrest. You are free to have a lawyer present during our conversation, but if you elect to do so, I won’t talk to you until your counsel arrives.” It made no difference to her what he decided. She’d talked to plenty of guilty men who had rejected an attorney because they thought they were smarter than her. Conversely, the innocent often asked for a lawyer, just to make sure they didn’t get into unnecessary trouble. Either way, she couldn’t read too much into his choice.

He was quiet, his expression thoughtful as he considered her words. She took the opportunity to study his face. He was handsome, she could say that objectively. Long, straight nose, tousled hair and brown eyes that looked like twin pools of melted chocolate framed by long lashes. The dusting of stubble on his cheeks kept him from looking too boyish. There were faint lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, indicating he probably smiled a lot. She was willing to bet he had dimples when he did.

Yes, a handsome man. One a woman wouldn’t think twice about talking to, especially if he turned on the charm. It would probably be easy for him to gain a woman’s trust.

But did that make him a killer?

Finally, he shrugged. “Let’s just get this over with,” he said. “I have nothing to hide.”

That’s what they all say, Rebecca thought.

“My name is Rebecca Wade. I’m an agent in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, and the Alpine police have asked me to talk to you about the women you found in Big Bend.” Alpine was a decent-sized city about a hundred miles from the borders of the park. The Alpine police was taking point on the investigation because its members had resources some of the smaller, closer towns lacked.

He nodded, as if this was information he already knew. “You already have my name. But I’ll introduce myself anyway. I’m Quentin Gallagher. Call me Quinn.”

“All right.”

“How does this usually work?” He shifted in the chair and it rocked a little in response, indicating the legs were not all the same length. Shortening the legs was a classic interrogation technique designed to keep the suspect uncomfortable and literally off balance. Rebecca wasn’t convinced it worked all that well, but she wasn’t going to argue with the Alpine police department about their methods right now.

“We’re just going to talk,” Rebecca said. “I have a few questions for you, but I’m mainly interested in hearing your story in your own words.”

A shadow crossed Quinn’s face, as if he was remembering something especially troubling. He cleared his throat. “Where should I begin?”

“Tell me about your wife.”

“My wife?” Quinn asked, his voice cracking a little on the words. Rebecca watched his face carefully, noting how his skin went pale under his tan. “What would you like to know about Ashley?”

“How did you two meet?”

He hesitated, and for a brief second, Rebecca wondered if he had changed his mind about talking to her. Maybe opening with his wife was a mistake, she mused. But if so, she had other tricks up her sleeve. One way or another, she was going to get Quinn Gallagher’s story.

Just as she was about to try another tack, Quinn spoke.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he said quietly. “But before we get started, I need you to understand something.” His brown eyes shone with an emotion she couldn’t quite name, and he leaned forward a bit, his expression earnest.

“Okay,” she said agreeably. “What’s that?” She was careful to keep her tone neutral, but her heart rate picked up. Was he really going to confess so quickly? It normally took her hours, or even days, to coax a confession from a suspect. Maybe Quinn was going to make it easy on her...

He met her eyes, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to see her very soul. Rebecca resisted the temptation to look away and tried to appear friendly and interested in what he had to say. It was important to gain Quinn’s trust so he would open up to her. The faster she got him to let down his guard, the sooner she’d discover the truth.

“I didn’t kill those women in the park.” His voice was low, but he enunciated every word clearly, as if he wanted to make sure she didn’t misunderstand him.

“And I damn sure didn’t kill my wife.”

* * *

If Quinn’s words shocked Rebecca, she didn’t show it. She smiled slightly, and he got the impression this wasn’t the first time she’d heard a man proclaim his innocence.

But in his case, it was the truth.

“If I really thought you’d killed anyone, you’d already be under arrest,” she said smoothly.

Yeah, right, he thought. Quinn wasn’t stupid. The only reason he wasn’t in handcuffs right now was because the police didn’t have enough evidence to charge him with the murders of those two unfortunate women he’d found in the park. Finding the first body had been bad enough. Finding the second victim, a week later, on a different trail, had been a new level of horrible. He knew he was still a suspect, though. Actually, the term the detective had used was “person of interest,” as if that was supposed to make him feel better.

It didn’t.

Nothing about this situation was okay. The only thing that made it tolerable was the fact that he knew with absolute certainty there wouldn’t be any evidence linking him to the deaths of those women.

Once the police realized he was innocent, these “voluntary” conversations would come to an end.

But until that day, Quinn intended to cooperate. The memories of his gruesome discoveries demanded he do everything in his power to ensure those poor women found some kind of justice.

The FBI interrogator was watching him, her face completely calm with no hint of impatience. She looked like a woman without a care in the world, as if she was happy to spend all day sitting in front of him, waiting for him to start talking. Her calm demeanor was a skill that likely served her well in her job, and under different circumstances, Quinn would have asked her more about her career. Working for the FBI had to be exciting, or at the very least, interesting.

Now was not the time for pleasantries, though.

Quinn took a deep breath, bracing himself for the jolt of pain that always came whenever he thought of Ashley. “We met in college,” he began. “We had a couple of intro classes together. I noticed her on the first day, and after a few weeks, I finally worked up the nerve to talk to her.” He smiled briefly at the memory, remembering the way his knees had practically knocked together as he’d stood in front of her desk and asked how she was doing.

He shook himself free of the memory and continued. “I was so nervous around her that if it had been up to me, I’d probably still be searching for the courage to ask her on that first date. Fortunately, Ashley was braver than I was, and she took matters into her own hands. She asked me to dinner, and I said yes. Four years later, we got married a week after graduation.”

“Were you happy together?” Rebecca’s voice was quiet and unobtrusive, the question a gentle conversational nudge to steer him in the desired direction. He knew where they were headed, and he swallowed hard.

“She was my everything,” he said, his throat tight. “Ashley was unique. She was insatiably curious, so full of life. Being around her was like holding lightning in your hands—she had so much energy and spark. Her personality was magnetic, and it was impossible not to be drawn in, to want to get close to her. When she looked at me, I felt like I was her whole world.” Quinn paused and shook his head. “She certainly was mine.”

“What did she look like?”

Ashley’s face popped into his head, the image crystal clear even though he hadn’t seen her in two years. “A little like you, actually,” he said, glancing over Rebecca’s features. “Red hair, pale skin, full lips. She had the most beautiful smile...” He trailed off, unable to continue. Not a day passed that he didn’t think about her and the life they should have had together. Knowing he would never see her again was a special kind of torture, and Quinn often wondered if he’d ever be able to think about Ashley without pain. He knew she wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer like this. Their time together and the year and a half they’d spent married had been so full of happiness, it seemed wrong to have it overshadowed by his grief. But he’d learned the hard way he couldn’t control his emotions, no matter how he tried.

“She sounds very special,” Rebecca said quietly.

Quinn nodded. “She was,” he agreed.

“I know this is difficult for you, but will you tell me how she died?”

He’d known the question was coming, but it still hit him like a punch to the gut. His eyes stung, and he blinked rapidly, determined not to shed tears in front of a stranger. Just because she looked like Ashley didn’t mean she was Ashley, and he couldn’t let Rebecca’s appearance distract him now.

“Ashley loved to go hiking. It was something we both enjoyed, and we took a lot of camping trips together. She was so happy when I got assigned to Yosemite as my first ranger job—she always said it was her favorite national park.” He smiled briefly at the memory.

“One of her friends had come out for a weekend visit. They had planned a hike on one of the more advanced trails, but since they were both experienced hikers, I didn’t worry about them. Ashley and Naomi knew what they were doing, and they weren’t the kind to take unnecessary risks with their safety. I had planned to go with them, but I was unexpectedly called in to work. I dropped them off at the trailhead and said I’d try to meet up with them later.”

Rebecca nodded. She probably knew these details already—it was the same thing he’d told the police at the time. He knew it was her job to make him tell the story again, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Quinn took a deep breath. Might as well get on with it. Drawing it out would only make him feel worse.

“After a few hours, my boss told me I wasn’t needed anymore and I could go. I called Ashley and got her coordinates, and told her I’d meet her at one of the waterfalls that was a landmark along the trail. I knew a shortcut and set off. But when I got to the meeting point, they weren’t there. I waited around a few minutes, thinking maybe they’d stopped for pictures or a water break. But when they still didn’t show, I grew worried. I called Ashley’s phone again, and that’s when I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Ashley’s phone. I could hear it ringing. The sound came from somewhere below the trail.” His gut twisted at the memory, and he heard the echo of her cheerful ringtone in his mind.

“I... I walked to the edge of the trail and saw...” He trailed off, unable to continue.

“They had fallen?” Rebecca asked softly.

Quinn nodded. His throat tightened up, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go on. He forced out the words, and they scraped against his tongue as he spoke. “They were too far down for me to get to them. I yelled to them, but neither one responded. I called for a medical evacuation right away.” The wait for the rescue crew had been the longest stretch of his life. He’d stared down at Ashley’s still form, unable to look away, straining to see any small movement, any twitch that would indicate she was still alive.

“The police questioned you after your wife and her friend were recovered?”

“Yes.” Quinn turned his thoughts away from that horrible discovery and focused instead on the aftermath. The small interrogation room, not unlike this one, where he’d sat, talking to the detectives.

“Why were you considered a suspect?” She sounded genuinely curious, even though she had to have read his file before walking into the room. Quinn thought about asking her the same question, but decided to humor her with a reply.

“Ashley and Naomi were experienced hikers, and the trail was in good condition,” he said again. “It was determined they had most likely slipped over the edge, probably after getting too close for a photo. But I guess the police had to consider foul play, and since I was the last person to talk to Ashley, that made me a potential suspect.”

“But they never arrested you.”

“There was no evidence,” he said simply. “I told you before, I didn’t kill my wife or her friend. No matter how hard the police looked, they weren’t going to find any evidence to the contrary.”

Rebecca was silent a moment, considering his words. “When did you ask to be transferred?”

“About a week later. I couldn’t continue to work at Yosemite—it was too hard.”

“So you were assigned to Big Bend National Park about two years ago.”

Quinn nodded. “It was a good change. Ashley would have loved it here, too, but it’s easier to go to work knowing I’m not going to be ambushed by a sudden memory of us hiking this trail or camping in that spot.”

Rebecca smiled. “I can imagine.” She leaned back in her chair, her head tilted to the side. “I take it you enjoy your job?”

“I do. Very much.”

“And you’re feeling comfortable here? Like it’s home?”

“Yes.” Where is she going with this? Quinn wondered.

“Let’s talk about the women you found.”

The images flashed across his mind and he winced. “I don’t know how much I can tell you,” he said. “Like I told the police, when I found each woman, I called it in right away.”

“I’m sure you did,” Rebecca said soothingly. “I just want to know what you think about the situation.”

Quinn frowned. “What I think?” he asked. “I think it’s terrible what happened to those women.”

Rebecca nodded. “I agree with you. I also think it’s quite interesting that a man who was considered a suspect in his wife’s death was the one to discover these two victims.”

Quinn’s blood ran cold as Rebecca continued. “Another thing that fascinates me is the fact that your wife had red hair. Do you remember the hair color of the women you discovered?”

“Red,” he whispered, his mouth dry as the desert.

“That’s right.” She nodded, looking like a proud teacher pleased with her student’s progress. “Red. Kind of a striking feature, wouldn’t you say?” She leaned forward, as if she wanted to impart a secret. “See, in my line of work, we call that a pattern. It’s quite common for killers to target people who share a set of characteristics—in this case, hair color.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Never said you did,” Rebecca replied smoothly. “I’m just laying out the facts here. It’s one thing to stumble across one dead body. But to find two in two weeks? That’s some exceptional luck.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Quinn muttered.

“Neither would I,” she said, her tone suddenly harsh. “What is it about you, Quinn Gallagher? Don’t you find it odd that you’ve come across three...no, four dead women in the last two years?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he spluttered. For the first time, a kernel of fear took root in his chest. Was he really going to be blamed for the deaths of these women? There wasn’t any evidence linking him to the crimes, but the way Rebecca was talking made him second-guess his actions.

“Well, I have,” she responded. “And let me tell you, it’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” he said.

“Well, what do you know?” She leaned back and smiled broadly. “Neither do I.”

* * *

“What do you think?”

Rebecca rolled her head to the side, stretching out her neck. It had been a long few hours in the interrogation room, and she was ready for a fresh cup of coffee.

She turned to the detective who’d asked the question. Morris, that’s his name, she recalled.

“He’s not a killer.”

Detective Morris snorted and shook his head. “Just like that? You talked to him for what, two hours, and suddenly you know he’s innocent?”

Rebecca gave him a level stare. “I know he didn’t kill those women. He was on patrol with a partner when the medical examiner estimates both women were killed, which makes for a pretty good alibi, don’t you think? Not to mention, he’s not at all interested in the details of the deaths—he shut down hard when I started talking about it. That’s not consistent with the behavior of a killer. They tend to enjoy hearing about their crimes. Gives them a chance to relive the excitement.”

Morris nodded. “I’ve heard that.”

“He’s not the killer,” Rebecca repeated. “But that doesn’t necessarily make him innocent.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s a possibility he’s working with the killer. Pointing out potential victims, then ‘discovering’ them later so the killer can get his five minutes of fame.”

“Like a wingman?”

Rebecca shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Why would a person want to do something like that?”

She sighed, suddenly exhausted. “There are any number of reasons. But I just don’t know if Quinn Gallagher is the type of man who would do such a thing.” She glanced back at the door to the interrogation room, replaying their conversation in her mind. Nothing he’d said had triggered any alarm bells, but it would probably take several interviews for her to pick up on more subtle cues.

“Anything from forensics yet?”

Morris shrugged. “Not really. Fibers and fingerprints are still being processed. They did say the first scene was fairly pristine, while the second was more compromised.”

“So he probably found the first body soon after she’d been dumped, while the second one sat there longer, giving animals and the elements time to degrade evidence.” Rebecca’s tone was thoughtful as she incorporated this piece of information into her mental file on Quinn Gallagher. She made a note to look at the report on his wife’s death, see if there were any similarities across the sites. It was a long shot, but perhaps there were some commonalities. Her gut told her he wasn’t the killer, but she’d been wrong before...

“That’s what the evidence techs said,” Morris confirmed. He jerked his head in the direction of the interrogation room. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

“Cut him loose.” Rebecca stood and caught a glimpse of Morris’s surprised expression. “You don’t have any evidence against him. There’s no reason to hold him.”

“You really think it’s a good idea to let him back out there?”

“Why not? Either the man is innocent, in which case it’s wrong to detain him. Or he’s working with the killer, in which case he’ll make contact with our perp. Just keep an eye on him.”

“We don’t have that kind of manpower,” Morris protested. “We can’t follow him all the time.”

Her phone buzzed at her hip, signaling an incoming email. Rebecca glanced at the screen and shook her head. “Then I guess it’s a good thing your boss requested my services for the next few weeks.” She pocketed the device and smiled wryly. “I’ll stay close to him while I’m here. In the meantime, I need to change my hotel reservations. It seems I’m going to be here for the foreseeable future.”

Chapter 2

It wasn’t a bad room, as far as hotels went. The bed was small and lumpy, the air conditioner louder than a jet engine. But the air was cool and there was a desk in the corner where she could spread out her files. She’d slept in worse places before.

Rebecca sat in the lone chair in the room, twirling up forkfuls of lo mein as she worked through her emails. Her boss, Franklin Jessup, had told her to stay in Alpine for the next week at least to provide assistance to the local police in their investigation. Normally, two dead women in two weeks wasn’t the kind of thing that would register at the national level, but since she’d already been in El Paso for a forensic psychology conference, the request from Alpine PD had been easy to accommodate.

This one sounds right up your alley, Frank had written. He was right; Rebecca had made somewhat of a name for herself focusing on crimes against women. It was one area where she felt she could really make a tangible difference in people’s lives. Women were so often the target of violence—any time she helped put a killer behind bars, she knew she was saving lives of his future victims.

She had to admit she was intrigued by these cases—two red-haired women found in a national park in the space of two weeks. It was a hell of a pace, even for a serial killer. The local police had already dubbed the suspect “the Yoga Killer,” thanks to the characteristic arrangement of the bodies: hands over hearts, legs bent with the soles of their feet touching. She pulled up the crime-scene photos for another look, noting how each woman had been placed in exactly the same pose, even down to the sprawl of hair across their faces.

“So he doesn’t want to look at you,” she murmured, clicking through the images. That was interesting. It seemed the killer had no problem taking a life, but he didn’t want to be confronted by the empty, accusing stares of his victims. Postmortem guilt, perhaps? Maybe he got caught up in the moment when he was hurting these women, only to be filled with remorse after the fact. The possibility suggested he had poor impulse control, but the situation was more complicated than that. Both scenes had been devoid of any obvious evidence, and the crime-scene techs had reported it looked like the killer had taken pains to sweep away his footprints. Initial analysis of the bodies had revealed no fingerprints or DNA, which meant whoever was doing this was careful and methodical. Still, Rebecca knew there was no such thing as the perfect murder. They’d find the clue that would bring this killer to justice, no matter how improbable it seemed now.

She just hoped they caught a break sooner rather than later.

A quick search of the FBI’s national database revealed no other similar cases, either in active investigation or resolved. That meant the killer was just starting out, or his previous victims hadn’t been discovered yet. It was possible the man had been working quietly for years, perfecting his approach. The fact that he hadn’t left behind any visible clues suggested a seasoned professional, but it was also possible he was just a smart guy who had watched a lot of CSI. A search of the database for missing persons turned up a disturbing number of young women with red hair, but there didn’t appear to be any clusters that might indicate the Yoga Killer had been practicing elsewhere before moving to the Big Bend area. Still, she downloaded the report and emailed it to one of the interns at the Bureau with instructions to search through the files and categorize any cases that might be connected. Serial killers didn’t just sprout from the ether; this guy had a history. All she had to do was find it.

She picked at her dinner, the noodles now cold and congealing into an unappetizing glob. Her thoughts drifted toward the park ranger she’d interrogated today. Quinn Gallagher. The man had been forthright and seemingly honest in his responses to her questions, and her instincts told her he wasn’t a killer. But she couldn’t shake the feeling he’d held something back during their conversation, as if there were things he’d wanted to say but hadn’t. His subtle reticence didn’t make him a bad guy, but it did make her want to know more. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but she knew in her bones that Quinn was the key to this investigation. The question was, did he know that as well? Was he truly innocent as he claimed, or was he keeping information from her out of a sense of fear or guilt?

Only one way to find out.

“You and me, buddy,” she muttered. Quinn might not know it now, but he’d just acquired a new sidekick. Rebecca was going to stick to him like glue during the course of this investigation, and sooner or later, she’d find out what he was hiding.

Bulldog Becca, on the case. Brandon’s voice drifted through her mind, making her smile even as she felt the old familiar pang in her heart. She and Brandon had both worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and over time their relationship had blossomed from being coworkers to friends to lovers. The day he’d proposed had been one of the happiest of her life, and she’d poured her free time into planning their wedding and honeymoon, daydreaming about their life together and the future they would build.

For a short time, her life had been perfect. She had a job she loved, a man she was crazy about and a future of endless possibilities to enjoy. But it all came crashing down one spring afternoon two years ago.

Brandon had been working in a Virginia prison, and he was interviewing a man on death row who had been convicted of the murders of several children. A few cold cases matched his pattern, but he had never confessed. Brandon was trying to coax more information out of the prisoner in the hopes of bringing closure to the families of the missing kids. It was draining, thankless work, but Brandon was good at his job and seemed to have a knack for getting people to talk to him.

They were about halfway through the interview when a riot broke out in one of the common areas of the prison. The complex was locked down, and the guard who normally stayed in the room during interviews moved to the door, turning his back on Brandon and the convict.

The killer saw his chance and took it. In a matter of seconds, he’d overpowered the guard and grabbed the baton. Then he turned on Brandon, who had been helpless to defend himself against the brutal beating.

Rebecca’s throat tightened as the facts of the murder ran through her head. She hadn’t been able to look at the photos from the scene, and Brandon’s body had been cremated, so she hadn’t had to see the evidence of his violent death. But that didn’t stop her imagination from trying to fill in the details.

Losing Brandon had shattered her heart, and she’d nearly quit her job. Coming to work every day, passing by his office on the way to her own—it had been too much for her battered psyche to bear. Frank had seen how close to the brink she was, and insisted she take a break.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he’d said. “But you need time to heal.”

Rebecca had initially resisted. Rattling around alone in the apartment she and Brandon had shared did nothing to help her grief. So she’d packed a bag and headed to Austin to visit her parents. They’d welcomed her with open arms and instructions to stay as long as she wanted.

The first few days, Rebecca did little more than sleep. In her dreams, Brandon was still alive, still with her. The horror of his death couldn’t find her while she slept, and unconsciousness became her refuge. Her rational, clinical mind recognized she was sinking deeper into depression, but she felt powerless to stop the descent. The disease sank its teeth into her soul, gripping her tightly in a destructive embrace as it pulled her farther away from her family, her friends. Her life.

If not for the actions of her mother, Rebecca didn’t know if she would be where she was today. Cherice recognized what was happening to her daughter and pushed her to see a therapist. Rebecca initially refused, but her mom kept insisting, applying a potent combination of begging, cajoling and tough love until Rebecca agreed to an initial session.

“This isn’t something you can simply will away,” Dr. Varton said during their first visit. “And with your education and experience, you know that better than anyone.”

Slowly, Rebecca began to confide in the man. She told him about Brandon, about her overwhelming grief. And how the depression was making her question her capabilities as a psychologist. If she couldn’t trust her own mind, was she really qualified to work for the FBI?

It had taken time, but with the help of Dr. Varton and medication, she’d grown to accept that the depression was not her fault and it didn’t invalidate her professional abilities or make her less of a person. Four months after Brandon’s death, she returned to the FBI, ready to get back to work. She had a few rough days in the beginning, but as the months had passed, she found she was able to think about Brandon without feeling like she was standing at the edge of a fathomless black hole, playing chicken with the monster that lived in the depths.

Now, a year and a half later, the memory of his voice brought more comfort than sorrow. There would always be a part of her heart that wouldn’t heal, a raw spot where Brandon had lived. But she was getting better about walling it off, protecting it from the slings and arrows of daily life. Still, it was times like now when she wished she could talk to him again, to pick his brain and discuss the case with him. He’d been the perfect sounding board, always helping her to see the pattern or challenging her to look at things from a different angle.

With a sigh, she closed the laptop and tossed the remains of her dinner in the trash. It was getting late and she needed to sleep—she’d already called Quinn’s superiors and confirmed he was expected at work at seven thirty in the morning. She wasn’t quite sure what a park ranger’s job entailed, but tomorrow she was going to find out.

* * *

Quinn arrived at park headquarters the next morning, feeling far older than his thirty years. He hadn’t slept well the night before. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the two women he’d found in the park, and the memories haunted him. Finding the first had been bad enough. When he’d found the second a week later, he’d needed time off to cope. His boss had insisted he talk to a counselor, but it hadn’t helped much. The shrink had suggested some meditation techniques and visualization exercises, but it seemed no matter what Quinn tried to think about, his brain always circled back to the women and, eventually, Ashley.

The distraction of work was his only refuge, but even that had its limits. He was desperate to get outside, to move his body and let his mind take a break. But he was also more than a little afraid of what he might find while patrolling the park.

On the advice of the Alpine Police Department, the rangers had posted notices throughout the area, advising hikers and campers of the recent deaths. The signs were carefully worded so as not to cause panic, but anyone who paid attention to the news would know about the gruesome discoveries in the park. The press hadn’t affected tourism...yet. New campers arrived every day, their packs bulging and their spirits high. Quinn could only hope that the killer had moved on; he didn’t think he could handle finding another body.

“Quinn.” He turned at the sound of his name to find his boss, Gary Thompson, standing in the doorway to his small office. Gary beckoned Quinn over and gestured for him to take a seat across from his desk.

“How you holding up?” The older man’s gray eyes were filled with genuine concern, and Quinn felt something in his belly loosen. He propped his hat on his knee and shrugged.

“I’ve been better.” Should he tell Gary about his dreams and his trouble sleeping? Or would that make it sound like he couldn’t handle his job? The thought of time off with nothing but his thoughts for company frightened him, so he kept his mouth shut.

“I imagine you have.” Gary shook his head. “Hell of a thing, these murders. I’ve never seen anything like it in my fifteen years with the National Park Service.”

Quinn was silent, mulling over his response. He really didn’t want to talk about the details of what he’d seen, but Gary wasn’t the type to gossip. “I hope they catch whoever did this soon,” he said.

Gary nodded. “You and me both. I got a call last night from some lady with the FBI. Rebecca something. She wanted to know when you’d be at work today.”

Nerves jangled in Quinn’s stomach. The police had released him last night after he’d spoken with her. Had they changed their minds? Was she coming to arrest him?

Please, not here, he thought desperately. If he was arrested inside the ranger station, in full view of his colleagues and any park visitors, his career would be over.

“If you need to take time off to help with the investigation, you’ve got it.”

It took Quinn a moment to register what Gary was saying. “I’m sorry?”

“The FBI lady made it sound like you were helping her with the investigation. If you need to take some leave, it’s fine with me.”

Quinn nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. What was Gary talking about? Rebecca had given no indication she wanted his help when they’d spoken yesterday. Was this some kind of trick, or was he simply overreacting? “I appreciate that,” he said. “I’ll talk to her and find out if it’ll be necessary.”

“We all want to catch this killer,” Gary said, rising to his feet. Recognizing the conversation was over, Quinn stood as well. “As I told the police and this FBI agent, we’ll do whatever it takes to help their investigation. You’re one of my best rangers, but we can spare you for that.”

“Thank you, sir.” The praise was unexpected, and Quinn felt both pleased and humbled at the man’s words. It was nice to know his work was appreciated, especially now when he was feeling so uncertain about things.

Quinn headed over to his desk and placed his hat next to his computer keyboard, then walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup of the strong brew. He glanced at the large white board posted on the far wall as he returned to his seat. The board displayed a detailed map of the park, along with today’s weather forecast, river conditions, campsite closings and any areas of concern or issues to note. Nothing unusual jumped out—the burn ban prohibiting campfires was in effect, and the trails where he’d made his discoveries were still closed to allow the police to finish gathering evidence. Other than that, it looked like they were in for another warm day.

The bell above the door jingled, indicating a new visitor. Quinn’s desk was behind a partition, so he couldn’t see who had walked in. But he heard her voice float through the room as she returned a greeting from the front-desk attendant.

“Hello. I’m looking for Quinn Gallagher.”

“Let me check if he’s in.” The young woman who manned the desk poked her head around the corner, one eyebrow raised in query as she made eye contact with Quinn. He nodded, and she moved back to her station.

“Yes, ma’am. He’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Thank you.”

Quinn took a moment to brace himself, drawing in a deep breath. She’s not going to make a scene, he told himself. He didn’t know what more she wanted to talk about, but whatever the subject, he’d get her out of the station so they could have a bit of privacy. His coworkers were good people, but everyone was curious about the case of the two dead women. He’d rather not discuss things in front of an audience, however well-meaning they might be.

Grabbing his coffee, Quinn walked around the partition to the larger visitor’s lobby. He spied her right away, and not just because the place was otherwise empty. She was quite a sight with her long red hair pulled back into a glossy ponytail that seemed to spark in the morning sun. A pair of jeans accentuated the curve of her hips, and she wore a thin long-sleeved shirt over a tank top. The casual look threw him for a moment; the last time he’d seen her, she’d been a buttoned-up professional woman in a suit. Today she looked softer, more approachable. The kind of woman he might ask out for dinner, if he was so inclined.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. He’d dated some in the aftermath of Ashley’s death, but nothing serious. And he certainly wasn’t about to try to go out with a woman who suspected him of murder.

He cleared his throat. “Morning,” he said.

Rebecca turned to face him. “Hi,” she said. She gestured to the informational poster hanging on the wall. “I had no idea the park is so big—it says here it’s bigger than Yosemite.”

Quinn nodded. “Yeah. A lot of people don’t realize how much diversity is here. We have more bird species than any other national park.”

A look of genuine surprise flashed across her face. “That’s impressive,” she said.

“I’m sure you aren’t here to talk about our wildlife.” He nodded at the partition and the desks beyond. “Want to come back?”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

He led her to his desk and snagged a chair so she could sit. “Coffee?”

Rebecca shook her head. “No, thanks. I already had my boost for the morning.”

“How can I help you today?”

She glanced around before speaking, apparently wanting to make sure no one was listening. “I’d like you to take me to the sites where you discovered the bodies.” Her voice was low, and he appreciated her discretion. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who cared about keeping things as quiet as possible.

A knot formed in his gut, but he nodded. “I can do that.” He wasn’t looking forward to going back to those spots, but it made sense she’d want to see the areas. “You know all the evidence has been removed, right?”

“Yes. But I still want to see them. I need to see what the killer saw and be in the space where he moved. It might give me more insight into him if I can walk in his footsteps.”

She sounded matter-of-fact, but her words sent a chill down Quinn’s spine. The last thing he wanted was to seek out the residue of evil that lingered in the land, but if she thought it would help her catch whoever had murdered those two women, he’d suck it up.

“When would you like to go?” He sounded reluctant even to his own ears, but if Rebecca noticed his tone, she didn’t react to it.

“Today, if possible.”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up and he ran his gaze over her attire again, this time evaluating her appearance for hiking. “Uh, do you have any hiking experience?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “A little. Why? Is there a problem?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Not necessarily. But I found the first woman off an advanced trail. It’ll take us several hours to get there, and the terrain is pretty rugged. It’s not the kind of hike you take on a whim.”

“What about the second victim?”

“That trail is more accessible—it’s rated moderate in difficulty. We can probably do that today, but we need to do some prep work first.”

“I have a few water bottles in my car,” Rebecca offered.

Quinn smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “That’s a good start, but there’s a bit more to it. Were you planning on wearing that?” He gestured to her jeans and sneakers.

She looked down and frowned. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”

“You’ll want to wear pants, but jeans are too heavy. A lighter fabric will breathe and won’t absorb so much of the sun’s rays. The tennis shoes aren’t ideal, but I don’t think you’ll want to try breaking in new boots for this.”

“Okay...”

“And we’ll need to get you a pack.”

“A pack?” she asked.

Quinn nodded. “For your water, some food, sunscreen, flashlight, emergency blanket and a first-aid kit.”

“I see.”

“And a hat,” he added. “You’ll probably want sunglasses, too.”

Rebecca’s expression was one of resignation. “This isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.”

“I was a Boy Scout growing up,” Quinn explained. “And what kind of park ranger would I be if I didn’t insist on taking safety precautions before we set out?”

“Where can I get this stuff?” she asked on a sigh.

“I have a spare pack at home,” he said. “But we’ll need to head into town to get you the right pants.”

“Let’s go, then. I don’t want to lose any more time than necessary.”

Chapter 3

It didn’t take long to reach the feed store. She spent the drive in the passenger seat, typing out a message to Frank, telling him of her plans to go out on the trail with Quinn. She told him she’d check in by 9:00 pm, just as a precaution. Having taken care of that, Quinn led her inside the store and pointed out the style of pants she should buy. Rebecca tried on her size and, satisfied with the result, ripped off the tag and brought it to the register.

“Might as well wear them out,” she said. She grabbed a second pair and looked at Quinn. “What else do I need?”

He picked up a wide-brimmed hat and set it on top of the pants. “This’ll do. I have everything else.”

She paid for everything and they returned to the car. “My apartment isn’t far,” he said quietly.

He directed her to a small complex near the edge of the town and led her up a flight of stairs to a door on the second floor. Rebecca glanced around, surprised at the beauty of the view. “You can see the mountains from here,” she remarked.

Quinn glanced behind him as he unlocked the door. “Yeah. It’s especially pretty at sunrise and sunset.”

He walked inside, holding the door so she could follow. She stepped into the living room and saw the kitchen off to the right. A short hall extended to the left, where she assumed his bedroom was.

“Bathroom is just that way,” he said, indicating the hall with a nod. “If you need it.”

She didn’t, but it gave her an excuse to snoop. “Thanks.” She headed down the hall as he opened a closet door in the living room and began to rummage inside. Satisfied he was occupied, she risked a quick glance into his bedroom. Nothing fancy; she noted a bed and a side table sporting a lamp and a framed picture.

His wife, she guessed. It was too far away for her to make out the image, but who else would it be?

She ducked into the bathroom, which was small but clean. She reached for the mirrored cabinet hanging on the wall, then hesitated. It felt wrong to invade Quinn’s privacy by snooping in his medicine cabinet, but she needed to know if he was taking anything that might make him an unreliable source. Pushing aside the hint of guilt, she opened the cabinet and was greeted with the sight of nothing special. His toothbrush, toothpaste and razor were there, along with a few bottles of ibuprofen and an over-the-counter allergy medication. Certainly nothing that suggested drug abuse, or any physical or mental health issues. It was possible he kept medication in his bedside table drawer, but from what she saw here, Quinn appeared to be a healthy man. It all fit with the results of his background check—by all reports, Quinn was a law-abiding guy who had never been in trouble with the authorities.

She quietly closed the cabinet, then flushed the toilet and ran the faucet to make it sound like she’d used the facilities. She stepped back into the hall and headed for the living room to find Quinn sitting on the floor, two backpacks in front of him. He had opened one and was methodically going through the supplies, apparently double-checking the contents against a mental list.

“Mind if I get something to drink?”

He shook his head, not bothering to look up. “There’s bottled water in the fridge. Grab me one, too, please. We need to start hydrating before we set out.”

Rebecca headed into the kitchen, noting it was just as tidy as the bathroom. No dishes cluttered the sink, and aside from a coffee maker, the counters were bare. She opened the fridge, half-expecting it to be empty. But it was stocked with a variety of fruits and vegetables, along with a gallon of milk, some juice and a few condiments. There was a full six-pack of beer shoved to the back of the shelf, which told her Quinn wasn’t much of a drinker. She found the water and grabbed two bottles, then headed back into the living room.

Quinn was packing up the first bag and as she walked over, he zipped it closed and reached for the second pack. He hesitated a brief second, then opened it and began the inventory process again.

“Everything okay?” she asked. She settled onto the rug across from him and took a sip of water. She felt her eyes grow wide as he pulled an impressive assortment of gear from the small bag.

“Yep.” He cracked open his own water bottle and took a healthy drink. “Just double-checking everything before we set out.”

“Do we really need all this stuff?” There were ropes, a flashlight, a small pill bottle containing cotton and a few matches, a first-aid kit, some kind of strange-looking tube, a small shiny square wrapped in plastic and many more items she didn’t recognize. She reached for the flashlight, flicking it on. “We’re not going to be out at night.”

Quinn reached over and took the light, turning it off before setting it back on the floor. “You never know,” he said. “Better to have it and not need it than the opposite. I’ve seen too many hikers get into trouble because they thought they could skimp on safety.”

“Fair enough.” She wouldn’t ask a fellow agent to go into a raid without a bulletproof vest, and the feel of her ankle holster was a reminder she’d made her own preparations for this hike. She couldn’t really blame Quinn for doing his job properly.

Even though it meant her back would ache the whole trip.

“It’s not as heavy as you think,” Quinn said, apparently reading her mind. “If you pack it properly so the weight is evenly distributed, it’s not that bad. The heaviest thing you’ll be carrying is water, and that will get lighter as we go.”

“If you say so,” she said, unable to keep a note of doubt from her voice. Given the amount of gear Quinn was shoving back into the bag, Rebecca didn’t see how that was possible. But he sounded confident, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

She watched him inspect each item, then place it back into the bag. He worked quickly but competently, and Rebecca was surprised to find she enjoyed seeing him work. His hands sported a warm golden tan from time spent outside, and there was a light dusting of hair on his wrists. His long fingers moved nimbly, and she was suddenly struck with a curious desire to know how his hands would feel on her skin. The errant thought sent a burst of warmth through her limbs, and she shifted, trying to ignore the feeling.

It’s just a physical reaction, that’s all, she told herself. As she’d noticed during their first meeting, Quinn was a handsome man. It was only natural her body would respond in kind. But that didn’t mean she was going to act on this attraction. A shiver went down her spine as the faces of the two victims flashed in her mind. Both women had been redheads, just like her. And just like Quinn’s wife. How would he respond once they got out on the trail? His reaction would tell her a lot about his connection to these murders.

But even if Quinn hadn’t been tied to the investigation, she wasn’t ready for a relationship again. She’d tried to date a few months ago, figuring that by a year after Brandon’s murder she should make some kind of effort to connect with a man. But her heart hadn’t really been in it, and her efforts had stalled after a few lackluster dinners. Rebecca didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone, but she wasn’t about to force herself into a relationship just so she could check that box.

Quinn got to his feet and she rose as well. He handed her the smaller backpack and she slipped it over her shoulders, surprised to find he was right—it wasn’t too heavy.

“Wow,” she said, tugging a bit on the straps to adjust the fit. “It really isn’t that bad.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Is this where I get to say ‘told you so’?”

“If you must,” she replied, smiling a little.

He stepped to the side, checking how the bag sat on her back. When he faced her again, his eyes burned with a naked longing that nearly stole her breath. Then he blinked and the emotion was gone, snuffed out like a candle.

Rebecca swallowed, unsure of what to say to break the silence between them. Quinn studied her face, as if comparing her features to a memory. Rebecca bore his scrutiny silently, part of her not wanting to interrupt this strange moment. There was an undercurrent of sexual tension between them, but there was something else, too, something she couldn’t quite identify buzzing under the surface. How long would this last? How would it be resolved?

Finally, Quinn bent and picked up the larger bag, slipping it onto his back. His movement broke the spell, and Rebecca let out her breath in a quiet sigh. “How long do you think this hike will take?”

He shrugged. “It’s about seven miles, round-trip. A few hours at least, depending on our pace.” He slipped into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later, his arms laden with more water bottles. “Here, let me get you loaded up.”

She turned away from him, offering him access to the bag. The pack grew heavier as he inserted the water bottles, but it was still bearable.

“Want me to put yours in?”

Quinn shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” He slipped off the bag and added the water. “Ready?” A flash of sadness crossed his features, and Rebecca realized with a jolt that she must be wearing his dead wife’s bag. They must have gone through these preparations countless times before setting off together; no wonder Quinn seemed a little off. Seeing another woman wear his wife’s gear must be difficult for him. Rebecca could only imagine how she’d feel if she saw someone wearing Brandon’s jacket or favorite tie.

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Quinn, take me back to the feed store. I can buy my own bag.” She didn’t want to torture the man, for God’s sake.

He shook his head with a small, sad smile. “It’s okay. Really,” he added, after seeing her face. “That’s silly for you to spend money on something you’ll never use again. Besides, Ashley would be glad to know her gear is getting used.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Rebecca reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, wanting to comfort him in some small way. “I’ll be careful with it,” she promised. It humbled her to know he was entrusting her with this memento of his wife. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same with something that had belonged to Brandon.

“I know.” He jerked up one shoulder and emitted a short laugh. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

Rebecca swallowed. “I’ll earn it,” she promised. She wanted him to know she understood the magnitude of his gesture, knew how hard this must be for him. “My fiancé was murdered almost two years ago,” she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could think better of it.

Quinn’s eyes widened and his mouth softened. “My God,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I get it—I know how hard it is to lose someone. And you’re stronger than I am. I don’t think I could let someone else use Brandon’s things. Not yet.”

Quinn hesitated, then reached out to pull her close. Rebecca didn’t resist, and some small part of her brain was shocked at how willingly she moved into his arms. He held her in a loose hug, his broad chest warm against her cheek.

“Grief is a funny thing,” he said quietly. “And I still have bad days, believe me.”

She sniffed and nodded and he released her. She took a quick swipe at her eyes and tried for a smile. “Ready?” If Quinn kept looking at her like that, his eyes full of warm sympathy and understanding, she was liable to throw herself back into his arms and beg him to hold her again. His touch had been comforting, despite the fact they were practically strangers. There was something about making contact with a man who had no ulterior motive that soothed her heart and made her feel safe.

It was a revelation, and now that Rebecca knew what it felt like to be held by Quinn, she was going to have a hard time not thinking about it. She knew she was taking a risk, setting off on a remote hike with a man who was somehow tied to these murders. But there was no better way to test him than to take him back to the scene of the crime. His reaction, or lack thereof, would tell her everything she needed to know.

“Let’s go,” he said, apparently sensing her need to change the subject. “Do you need to pick up anything from your room before we set out? A camera or anything like that?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I’ve got my phone if I need to take pictures. I mostly just want to get a feel for the place, if that makes any sense.”

He nodded. “It does,” he said shortly. He sounded apprehensive, and she figured he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the site. It was a normal reaction for a civilian to have, but she forced herself to consider another possibility: did Quinn want to avoid the area because he was afraid his reaction might give something away? She believed he wasn’t the killer, but she still wasn’t convinced he didn’t know the murderer somehow. And if the two men were working together to choose victims, or even stage the bodies, it was possible Quinn’s excitement would bleed through his innocent facade and give him away.

Rebecca glanced down, making sure her ankle holster was sufficiently hidden by the flare of her pant leg. As far as she knew, Quinn had no idea she was armed. She intended to keep it that way.

“After you,” she said.

* * *

He let her set the pace, shortening his stride so he didn’t push her to go too fast. It was clear Rebecca wasn’t an experienced hiker, but she was in good shape, which worked to her advantage. They made decent time, despite the increasingly rugged terrain.

Seeing Rebecca wearing Ashley’s gear had thrown him more than he cared to admit. It shouldn’t have—it was just a backpack, for crying out loud. But seeing the familiar green bag bobbing ahead of him on the trail made it far too easy to remember all the times he and Ashley had set off to explore the trails together.

It didn’t help that he felt drawn to Rebecca, either. She wasn’t Ashley—his mind and body knew that. Rebecca had Ashley’s red hair, but that was about it. Still, there was something about Rebecca that intrigued him and made him want to know more. At first glance, she was a walking paradox—a delicate-looking woman who spent her days staring down serial killers and other psychos. He knew better than to trust a first impression, though. In the short time he’d known her, he’d seen that Rebecca had a core of steel. She was much tougher than she looked, and he guessed she probably used her appearance to her advantage.

What other tricks did she have up her sleeve? The urge to learn about a woman was unfamiliar and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feelings. Ignore them and hope they went away? Or indulge his curiosity in the hopes his interest would wane the way it normally did?

Time enough to decide. For now, he needed to keep his eyes on the goal: get her to the site and back safely.

“Time for another water break,” he announced. He led them off the trail a few feet to the shadow of a large rock and did a quick sweep of the ground with the sole of his boot to disturb any creepy-crawlies that might be taking advantage of the shade. Rebecca waited for his nod before sitting down. She removed her pack and took out another bottle of water, her breathing slowing as she rested.

“Doing okay?” Her face was flushed with exertion from the heat, and her tank top was damp with sweat. Quinn had been religious about enforcing water breaks, but perhaps it was time for a longer rest...

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just didn’t expect this much of a workout.”

“Some of these trails are pretty tough going,” he said sympathetically. “But we didn’t pick an ideal time to set out. When I take you to the first site, we’ll start before dawn and that will make a difference.”

She nodded and took a healthy swig from the bottle. “Is this the only trail leading to the site?”

“Yes. But it’s possible he approached from a different direction.”

She considered his words for a moment. “Would it be an easier trek if he went off the trail?”

Quinn shook his head. “No. Believe it or not, the trail is the best way to get there.”

Rebecca pursed her lips in thought. “So whoever did this is in excellent shape.”

“Do you—” Quinn hesitated, not sure he wanted to ask the question. But he needed to know, even if the answer would only add fuel to his nightmares. “Do you know if the women were killed at the site or if they were already dead when he left them there?”

Rebecca took another drink. “The coroner thinks they were killed at the site. He erased his footprints, removing all signs of struggle as well. But I have to believe someone would have noticed a man carrying a dead body over his shoulder, even if they only saw him from far away.”

“So he lured them here.” The idea put a bad taste in his mouth that the water did nothing to erase. What kind of man did something so horrible? How could one human deliberately gain another’s trust, knowing they intended to kill them later?

“Looks that way,” she confirmed.

“Those poor women,” he muttered, shaking his head. Discovering the bodies had been bad enough, but knowing the women had been led to their deaths somehow made it worse. The killer and his victim had probably traversed this same trail, chatting as they walked, perhaps stopping to admire a bird or pretty flower. Had she smiled at him, thinking him a friend? Had he shared food with her along the way?

Quinn’s stomach lurched, the water no longer refreshing. He set aside the bottle and focused on a nearby cactus, trying to steer his thoughts in a different direction.

“It was quick,” Rebecca offered. He glanced over to find her watching him, her gaze knowing. “He broke their necks, likely while they were resting. No signs of sexual trauma, either, so they didn’t suffer that way before they died.”

“Is that supposed to make it okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh—she was only trying to make him feel better.

“No,” she said quietly. “But in my line of work, I look for the small mercies to keep me going.”

“How do you do it?” He shook his head, trying to cast off his bad mood. “How can you stand to work with such evil day in and day out?” She didn’t look like an adrenaline junkie, nor the type to get her rocks off on the suffering of others. But there had to be some reason she’d devoted her career to killers and criminals.

Rebecca took a drink as she pondered his question. “I don’t enjoy my work—not in the sense that I think you do,” she said finally. “But I derive great satisfaction from finding a killer or solving a crime. There are bad people out there, and I believe if I can understand them, even just a little bit, I can protect others. I don’t want to learn about killers because they interest me—I study them so I can predict what others like them might do. I guess you could say I do this for the victims, in the hopes of preventing more deaths.”

Her answer made sense, and Quinn felt his emotions settle a bit. But one question still lingered. “How do you keep from bringing your work home with you? Doesn’t something like that contaminate other areas of your life?”

She shrugged. “It can, if I let it. But when I talk to killers, I try to leave my emotions out of it. These people are predators, and it gets them off if they know they’re bothering you. I refuse to give them that satisfaction. I view my job as a puzzle—I try to put the pieces in the right order to solve the case and catch the bad guy. I’ve gotten pretty good at building a wall between myself and what I do. I guess you could say I’m an expert at compartmentalizing things.” She offered a half smile, shrugging slightly.

Quinn couldn’t imagine living that way, with everything put into neat and tidy boxes that weren’t allowed to touch. Maybe he was wired differently, but it seemed that every aspect of his life impacted another. It was part of why he’d loved working at Yosemite—he and Ashley had both loved hiking and camping in the park, and he’d enjoyed sharing the best parts of his job with her. The thought of working a job that needed to be set aside daily for the good of his mental health made him a little sad, and he felt a spurt of pity for Rebecca.

She doesn’t need me to feel bad for her, he thought. Rebecca was clearly a thoughtful and intelligent woman who had found a career that interested her, if nothing else. She was qualified to do any number of jobs, so if she was really bothered by her career, she could find another. Just because Quinn couldn’t imagine living that way didn’t mean she was miserable.

Still, curiosity nagged him. Before he could think better of it, he spoke again. “Does that make it hard to have friends?”

She blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “What, you mean my tendency to compartmentalize?” At his nod, she shook her head. “Not really. I don’t talk about my work with my friends, and they know better than to ask except in the broadest of terms. Most people don’t want to know the details of a serial killer’s crimes, and I won’t talk about those things if I think someone is just looking for a cheap thrill.”

He nodded, grabbing his water for another sip. Rebecca cocked her head to the side, studying him. “What’s with the twenty questions?” She sounded curious and a little bit wary, as if she hadn’t decided what to make of his interest in her life.

Quinn shrugged. “You’re the first FBI profiler I’ve met. What you do is so foreign to me—I can’t imagine working with killers and investigating murder cases all the time. I’m just trying to understand how you do it, how you handle the more difficult parts.” He shook his head. “I could never do that.”

“You might be surprised what you can handle when you have to,” she said cryptically. She recapped her bottle and glanced at her watch. “Should we get back to it?”

“Yeah.” Quinn stashed his empty bottle and reshouldered his pack. “We’re not too far. Maybe another half hour?”

She waited for him to take the lead again and fell into step behind him. The rest of the hike passed in silence; it was hot, and the going was strenuous. Finally, they arrived.

It wasn’t difficult to find—yellow crime-scene tape was still strung across small bushes, acting as a flimsy barrier to keep out trespassers. The ground was littered with footprints, both human and animal; he saw the distinctive mark of a mountain lion, along with what looked like prints from both a mule deer and a raccoon.

Quinn forced himself to look at the spot where he’d found the woman. He half expected to see the outline of her body in the dirt, but it was blessedly clear of marks, as the wind, animals and the police would have brushed them away. He swallowed hard and looked away to find Rebecca watching him intently.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m just...” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his breastbone to ease the sudden ache in his chest. “I’m going to sit over here, if you don’t mind. Take your time.” He walked a few feet away to a large rock on the edge of the trail and sat, leaving Rebecca free to study the area to her heart’s content.

Even though the site was free from any reminders of his discovery, Quinn’s mind had no problem picturing the woman on the ground, her hair strewn across her face. Not again had been his first thought when he’d stumbled across the second body. Initially, he’d thought he was seeing things. He’d been thinking of the first victim as he’d walked, unable to get her out of his head. So when he’d come across the second woman he’d assumed he was simply having a very vivid hallucination brought on by emotional distress and the heat. But then the smell of death had hit him, and he’d realized the sight in front of him was very real.

Why me? he thought for what must have been the millionth time. Why had he been the one to find both victims? Was it simply an awful coincidence, or was there something more sinister at work?

After what seemed like an eternity, Rebecca walked over. “I’m ready.”

“Did you get what you needed?” He rose to his feet, glad she was done. Maybe someday he’d be able to hike this trail without being assaulted by the memories of his gruesome discovery, but not today.

“More or less.” She was quiet for a moment, the crunch of their footsteps the only sound. “I appreciate you bringing me here,” she said. “I can see it was hard for you.”

Quinn jerked up one shoulder in a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m just glad you got the information you were searching for.”

“I did,” she murmured. “In more ways than one.” He shot her a quizzical look and she shook her head. “He’s physically fit, that much is obvious. Probably a frequent visitor to the park—I’m willing to bet he had this spot picked out for a while. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. He probably fantasized about bringing a woman here to kill her.”

A wave of revulsion hit Quinn and he bit his lip to keep from vomiting. “We can check visitor logs at all the ranger stations,” he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse. “But there’s no guarantee he registered with us.”

“Have the police already started combing through camping permits?”

He nodded. “Yes. But not everyone follows the rules.”

“True.” She sounded thoughtful. “And a man who was so careful to scrub the site probably wouldn’t make the mistake of applying for a camping permit.”

“You’re sure it’s a man?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Statistically speaking, yes. Most serial killers are men. And the women were strangled to death, which takes brute strength.”

Quinn digested her words, nodding as he realized she was likely right.

“You think he’s staying in the park?” The thought sent a chill down Quinn’s spine. If the killer was camping in the backcountry, they might never find him. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“Anything is possible,” Rebecca said. “I want to focus on the victims first, though. If they had a permit, we can try to retrace their steps in the days leading up to their deaths. If we’re really lucky, we’ll find a shared location or some other point where they may have crossed paths with the killer.”

“You think he met them here?”

“More than likely. It’s possible the first victim came with him, but the second one was definitely someone he picked up recently. And given the identical display of the bodies, I don’t think he knew the women on more than a superficial level.”

Quinn’s curiosity got the better of him. “How can you tell that?”

“When a killer really knows his victim, he usually treats the body differently. Some murderers are overcome with guilt and treat the body almost tenderly, while some have a surge of anger and do further damage to the remains. Either way, there is usually a sign that the crime was personal. But in the case of our two victims, the bodies were staged identically. That makes me think he didn’t know either one of them on an intimate level.”

“He must be pretty charismatic,” Quinn mused.

Rebecca’s gaze sharpened. “What makes you say that?”

“He got two women—strangers, you think—to trust him enough to set off on a strenuous hike alone with him,” he pointed out. “Most hikers and campers are friendly, but they’re also savvy about safety. If a man I didn’t know approached me and wanted to take on a remote trail together, I wouldn’t go. And I’m a fairly big guy.”

“Very good,” she said softly. “I’m impressed you picked up on that. We’ll make a profiler out of you yet, Quinn.”

He blushed but didn’t reply.

“There’s just one thing that bothers me about this,” she said.

“Only one?” Quinn joked lamely.

Rebecca acknowledged his point with a nod. “Why haven’t we heard from anyone who knows the victims? These women didn’t pop out of thin air. They had families, friends. Why has no one reported them missing? You just said hikers are savvy about safety, so it’s unlikely they came to the park alone. Someone should have noticed when they didn’t return.”

“Maybe he’s not meeting them in the park,” Quinn said. “What if he’s bringing them in from one of the neighboring towns?”

“Good point,” she said. “Sounds like I need to widen my search.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said impulsively. Rebecca raised one eyebrow in surprise. “The people in these little towns aren’t always welcoming to outsiders. I’m not going to get in your way, but I don’t think you should go by yourself.” He didn’t like the thought of her going off alone, especially not with a murderer on the loose. As an FBI agent she’d probably had self-defense training, but she still could be overpowered by the brute strength of a determined assailant. Quinn didn’t have any illusions regarding his fighting prowess, but he was on the larger side and knew how to throw a punch.

When Rebecca didn’t reply, he added, “If you don’t want me to tag along, at least take a police officer with you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

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