Federal Agent Under Fire. Julie Lindsey Anne

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      Marissa wrapped both arms around her middle and glared at the man. Her outfit might not be camera ready, but she was dressed appropriately for a run, which was likely the only thing she’d expected to do before her shower.

      Blake groaned. “She has no comment.” He moved between Marissa and the reporter.

      The cameraman honed in on them.

      “What’s your name, Miss?” Linda asked. “Are you from Cade County? Do you come here often? How long have you known Federal Agent Garrett?”

      Heat from Marissa’s body warmed his side. Her fingers pressed against his back as she stepped into view of the mob forming along the trailhead. He should’ve guessed she’d refuse to stay behind him. Fire churned in his gut. The bigmouthed reporter had taken the only tactical advantage Blake had over Nash—surprise. Now, Nash would know Blake was there, and the games would begin again before Blake was ready.

      Blake scanned the crowd for his enemy. What if seeing him with Marissa fueled Nash’s need to get his hands on her again? What if Blake’s presence put her in more danger? As if the fact she’d gotten away wasn’t reason enough for him to come at her again.

      West and Cole arrived a moment later, waving their badges and hollering instructions at the crowd.

      “That’s our cue.” Blake wound his fingers around Marissa’s wrist and tugged. “Let them take care of the crowd. Let’s get back to what we came for.”

      * * *

      MARISSA TOOK THE LEAD, but her stomach protested the trip, and her limbs strained against her. Instinct begged her never to return to the place where she’d nearly been abducted, but resolve pushed her forward. Whether she wanted to go or not was irrelevant. Who knew how many more women would be in danger if the man who grabbed her wasn’t caught? Images of the awful moments flooded her mind, lifting the fine hairs along the back of her neck, and resurrecting another memory. A shiver rolled through her.

      “What’s wrong?” Blake’s voice was low and cautious.

      She scrubbed a hand over her lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.”

      “Let’s hear it.”

      “There was a man who tossed bread crumbs into the lake this summer. He was always there when I came back from my morning runs. That guy had a black hoodie like the man I saw today at the lookout. I know it’s not much, and everyone owns a black hoodie, but it could be something, right?”

      “Anything could be something. You saw him more than once?”

      She squinted against the brilliant sunlight, desperate for a more useful memory or detail. “He was there every morning for a while. Then, one day he just wasn’t.”

      “Did he see you?”

      “I think so. I’m hard to miss after five miles up and down a mountain.” She heaved a sigh. “I probably looked a lot like this, except swinging my arms to cool down from the jog.” Marissa plucked stringy bangs off her forehead and groaned inwardly. For the first time since she’d arrived at the station, she was fiercely self-conscious. Why hadn’t she at least combed her hair or washed her face while she’d waited on Blake to arrive? It was bad enough she was bruised and dirty. She didn’t have to be a disheveled nightmare, too. “I’m a mess.”

      “You’ve gone over ten miles on foot today and fought off a man twice your size. I think you get a pass.”

      So, he agreed. She was a mess. She pulled her ponytail down and shook her hair out, raking fingers through the tangles. She stopped moving when the lake came into view.

      Shadow Valley Lake was nearly eighteen square miles of water, much of it surrounded by tall grasses, angry geese and a well-beaten path courtesy of Cade County fishermen. Her apple, now covered in ants, lay in the grass near a massive oak tree. “I was there. Eating that apple.” She regretted leaving the trash behind. “I’ll take that with me when I leave this time.”

      Blake examined the ground near her apple. “The apple’s evidence now. Look.” He pushed the grass back and forth with his shoe, revealing two sets of imprints. Her Nikes and a pair of boots. He hovered his foot near the larger print. He fished his cell phone from one pocket and took pictures of the discovery.

      Emotion coiled in Marissa’s gut. Her eyes stung, and her bottom lip trembled. She sipped cool air and forced her mind away from the vivid memories clawing at her heart. “The man with the bread crumbs was always right there.” She pointed to a crescent of mud and rock at the massive lake’s edge.

      They moved toward the spot. Boot imprints striped the soft earth, as if he’d been pacing. “Do you see those?” she asked.

      “Yep.” He snapped another picture. “Same tread pattern as the prints by your apple.”

      Marissa bit into her thumbnail. No one had been at the lake on her predawn trip up the mountain, and she hadn’t seen anyone when she sat under the tree to enjoy her apple.

      Blake scanned the area with sharp, trained eyes. He mumbled something under his breath and raised his phone again, this time for a picture of the lake.

      Marissa followed his icy stare to a sprinkling of white flecks on the glassy surface. “Is that bread?”

      “No.” Blake turned his phone over and tapped the screen. “Those are white rose petals.”

      Marissa wrinkled her nose. “There aren’t any white roses in the park.”

      “Hey,” Blake growled into the phone, now pressed to his ear. “Get me a cast kit. We’ve got pattern evidence at the lake.” He disconnected and gripped the cell phone in his palm. “Any chance the man you saw here a few months ago could’ve been tossing these onto the water instead of bread crumbs?”

      “Maybe. Why? What do they mean?” She tried to hide the fear settling in her bones.

      Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “The fugitive I’ve been chasing left white rose petals on the doorstep of his victims’ homes.”

      “I’m guessing you don’t think these petals are a coincidence.” Marissa’s stomach sank as she watched the little white boats skating across the serene water.

      Blake snapped more pictures of the petals. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

      Well, they had that in common. She turned away and closed her eyes, engaging painful memories. “He was singing ‘Going to the Chapel’ and leaves roses. Does he have a fantasy about marrying his victims?”

      “I don’t know. He wasn’t very forthcoming when I tried to haul him in, and we never found the women, but I assume this is all part of some sick fetish. He lost a girlfriend to suicide about a year before he took his first victim.”

      Marissa opened her eyes and headed back to her fallen apple. She worked methodically around the grass, parting the blades with her shoe like Blake had. Maybe she could find a clue, too. Something Blake could send to the crime lab where his science and tech people worked.

      Something moved in the distance. A few seconds later, Cole appeared with a backpack.

      “How СКАЧАТЬ