Her heart pounded…

Breath came only in short, shallow gasps as she held the envelope in her hand. The killer had sent another letter. How did he know where she was?

“You all right?”

Brenna jumped and spun around to see Nick mere inches from her. As he reached for the letter, his chest brushed her, and she gasped, stepping back from him and the smell of leather and aftershave.

“Want me to open it?” He came even closer and the air left her lungs, making breath and speech impossible. Not when he was so near, all she had to do was exhale and their bodies would be touching in ways she’d only dreamed.

“No, I can do it.” She lowered her eyes so he couldn’t see how affected she was. Or how afraid she was for the job she had to do.

He pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear and traced her jaw with a soft fingertip. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jensen.”

The urge to lean into him assailed her and she pulled away just in time. “Yes, I do. I’m a cop, Nick. I don’t have time to be scared.” Of killers…or tall, gorgeous FBI agents.

Dakota Meltdown
Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Like the heroine in this story, I was burned severely as a child

and suffered the insecurities of being flawed on the outside.

This book is dedicated to my father and mother, Charles and

Phyllis Hughes, who’ve always loved me unconditionally and treated

me just like my siblings—normal—the best thing they could have

done for me. Without their love and support, I wouldn’t have grown into

the confident woman I am today. A special thanks to my mother- and

father-in-law, Janell and Jerry Jernigan, for giving us a home while we

were in transition and for making it possible for me to continue writing.

Their support helped make this book happen.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

2004 Golden Heart Winner for Best Paranormal Romance, Elle James started writing when her sister issued the Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas hill country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you, what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her Web site at www.ellejames.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Nick Tarver—An FBI agent determined to stop the killer before another life is lost.

Brenna Jensen—Letters from a serial killer draw her into a search for the man terrorizing her hometown of Riverton.

Stanley Klaus—Brenna’s successful brother-in-law, the mark her mother goads her to aim for.

Alice Klaus—Brenna’s perfect sister. Will she be a target of the murderer?

Chief Burkholder—The Riverton police chief on the verge of retirement, determined to catch a killer.

Victor Greeley—The philandering married man who duped Brenna once. Is he just a cheating husband, or a killer?

Bart Olsen—A man convicted for sexual offenses, he hates Brenna for putting him in prison.

Jason Connelly—The young computer wiz who stalked one of the would-be victims.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

The killing’s only just begun. Watch them drop now, one by one.

For the past seven hours the words echoed through Brenna’s head. No amount of loud music or talking to herself erased the sound, repeating like a mantra again and again.

When she finally slid her Jeep Cherokee into the driveway of the police station and parked on a hump of ice, she sat for a moment, letting the heater blow warm air in her face. If she’d had any strength left in her arms after the grueling drive, she’d have shaken a fist at the sky.

Yesterday, she’d been fooled into believing spring had arrived with sunshine melting through the mounds of solid ice piled four feet deep outside her town house in Bismarck.

With a sigh, she switched off the engine, pulled her gloves on and wrapped a wool scarf around her face before she stepped out into the storm. The storm that had raged since midnight had dipped its subzero blast as far south as Des Moines.

A native of the northern prairie, she knew better than to count on spring arriving any sooner than April and usually not until May. Her eyes stung and she pulled her scarf higher up over her nose to ward off the bite of the icy wind. Still wired by her hair-raising drive from Bismarck in whiteout conditions, Brenna stomped loose snow from her insulated boots outside the door to the Riverton police station.

The weatherman had predicted snow flurries. But one thing North Dakotans could count on was unpredictable, harsh weather. A trip that normally took her three and a half hours had taken twice as long at half the speed.

In any other circumstance, she’d have waited to make the trip until the storm had passed and the road crew had worked its magic clearing away the foot of snow already accumulated. The forty-mile-an-hour wind hadn’t helped, either. She’d struggled to see the road through the heavy snowfall and fought the gale-force gusts buffeting her four-wheel-drive vehicle all over the interstate highway. But she’d made it.

Stepping through the two sets of doors, Brenna entered the police station. The reviving scent of brewing coffee filled her senses as she divested herself of the scarf and draped it over a hook, followed by gloves, stocking cap and finally her heavy parka. Even the short walk from her car to the building necessitated full snow gear unless she wanted frostbite. The coffee smelled even better without the filter of wool around her nose, and she yearned to wrap her stiff fingers around a hot cup. But first she needed to find Tom.

She planted her hands on the counter and leaned toward the curious young police officer. “Hi, I’m Brenna Jensen. Where can I find Chief Burkholder?”

“That you, Brenna?” a deep voice called out from a doorway beyond the front desk.

Her smile lifted upward as her mentor and old friend Chief Tom Burkholder stepped into the lobby.

When she held out her hand to shake his, he brushed it aside and engulfed her in a bear hug that forced the air from her lungs. God, it felt good to be home, even in such tragic circumstances.

Chief Burkholder set her away from him and stared down into her face. “Did you stop by to see your mother and sister yet?”

“Are you kidding?” She tipped her head to the side and back to loosen the muscles tensed in her shoulders and neck. “As soon as they assigned me to the case, I headed straight here.”

“You’re just like your father—all about the job. We sure miss him around here.”

Her father had died of a massive heart attack two years after Brenna had joined the Riverton Police Department. He’d been so proud of his daughters’ accomplishments, especially when Brenna had chosen to follow in his footsteps. Never once had he bemoaned the fact he didn’t have a son.

She missed her father. They’d understood each other and he’d loved her unconditionally.

“Heard you’re up for a new job in Minneapolis,” the chief said.

“Yeah.” A twinge of guilt nudged at Brenna as if leaving North Dakota was the equivalent of a sin, when so many young people fled the state to find jobs. In her case she had a job, but the new one meant an increase in pay and responsibility, with the downside of being farther away from her family.

“When do they make the final selection?” Tom asked.

“In a week and a half.”

“I’ll keep you in my prayers for the job and this case.” He hugged her again. “You deserve the break.” The chief dropped his hands, shoved them into his pockets and stared down at his feet. “In the meantime, things been happenin’ around here.”

“Did you find the women?”

The chief shook his head, his skin almost as gray as his hair. “No. We had dozens of state police and local citizens combing the countryside all weekend, but the storm…well, you know what it was like. We pulled them in as soon as the weather got bad. No use losing anyone else in that mess out there.”

“Find anything in the victims’ homes?”

“Nothing yet. Only thing we got to go on is—”

“What the good ol’ U.S. Post Office delivered directly to me,” Brenna finished for him. Her mouth set in a bleak line. “I don’t know what to make of it. But I sure as hell plan to find out.”

“One other thing.” Chief Burkholder tugged at the tie already loose around his neck.

Brenna recognized the signs. Chief had more bad news he didn’t want to tell her.

Her lips twisted into a faux smile and she patted his back. “Might as well spit it out.”

With a shake of his head, Chief Burkholder stared hard at her. “We had another woman from town go missing last night.”

As if a heavy clamp pinched her lungs, Brenna fought to breathe normally. “Then the note is coming true. You sure she didn’t go somewhere and forget to tell anyone?”

“No. Her car was still in her garage, her purse on the counter in the kitchen.” The chief chewed on his lower lip. “And, Brenna, since victim number two was from East Riverton on the Minnesota side of the Red River, we notified the FBI. They’re taking charge of the investigation.”

“Great. Let’s hope they don’t hamper our search like the last team they sent.” She walked toward the coffee urn on the side counter and helped herself to a foam cup full of liquid resembling sludge. “I’m beginning to see what ol’ Red McClusky meant when he said, ‘We don’t need no outsiders muckin’ around our neck of the woods.’ I just hope the hell they don’t slow us down.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” a low, rumbling voice sounded over Brenna’s left shoulder.

She froze. Then a wave of heat rose from beneath her turtleneck to fan out into her face. Inhaling deeply, she steeled her nerves and willed her cheeks to quit burning before she faced the voice. “Do you always sneak up on private conversations?”

“Only if it has something to do with the case I’m working.” The man in front of her could have stepped out of an ad for an action-adventure cop movie. In his black leather jacket, black hair falling across his forehead and eyes an intense emerald-green, he was too perfect to be true. The addition of a five-o’clock shadow only made him look better. A perfect male specimen, from a scientific viewpoint.

Science be damned. Brenna didn’t need a perfect man making a mess out of this case. She didn’t need distractions when women were being kidnapped and more than likely murdered in her hometown.

“Nick Tarver.” He held out his hand without smiling or baring his teeth to soften the sharp lines of his face, only those intense eyes staring straight into hers. “I’d hoped for an amicable relationship with the locals while working this case.”

“Special Agent Brenna Jensen, North Dakota Bureau of Criminal Investigations.” Not nice to meet you, she added without voicing. Maybe she was a bit touchy about the subject, but she didn’t need another case screwed up by the FBI or another physically faultless person in her life. Having her sister and her sister’s husband thrown in her face at every chance her mother could get was already enough to make her want to scream. Why couldn’t the FBI send a really ugly, capable agent instead of Nick Tarver?

AS NICK SHOOK HER HAND, he observed the way Brenna Jensen’s forehead settled into a permanent frown. Instead of making her less attractive, she appeared like a fierce kitten ready to pounce on a wolf. And he was the wolf. He almost laughed until a pang of awareness registered in his libido.

This woman who barely came up to his shoulder, with her straight sandy-blond hair and blue eyes, was like the girl next door. Fresh, clean and wholesome. Too small and vulnerable to be a cop. She was the kind of girl a guy could take home to meet his mother. Someone he might have liked knowing, if he hadn’t already sworn off women. And as a potential victim, Brenna Jensen presented more of a liability than an asset to his case.

“Mind if I keep that?” She glanced down at the hand he still held and back up at him, her brows rising. “I’m sort of attached to it.”

He jerked his hand away and stepped back, for a moment off balance and not liking it.

Brenna tipped her head toward the doorway leading to the rear of the building. “Show me where you’re set up and I’ll show you my note.”

“Not yet.”

Her shoulders straightened and she dragged in a deep, slow breath, as if she were preparing to go into battle. “What do you mean, not yet?”

“Before we do anything else, we need your statement.”

The woman let the air out of her lungs. “On one condition.”

Tarver’s brows dipped into a frown. He wasn’t used to negotiating his orders. He opened his mouth to say so, but Brenna beat him to it.

“I keep my coffee.” She gave him a saccharine-sweet smile.

His brows met in the middle before they straightened and he nodded. She’d better not push him. He’d have her out of the building so fast—

Coffee in hand, she sailed toward the door leading to the back of the police station.

He hurried to follow her, falling in step behind her.

Before she’d gone too far down the hallway she stopped so abruptly Nick bumped into her. Her body was soft and feminine, but beneath the layers of clothing, he could feel the steely strength of well-honed muscles.

Her mouth made a small O and then firmed into a straight line as she looked over his shoulder to the man behind him. “Interview room still in the same place, Chief?”

“You betcha,” Tom Burkholder replied.

“Let’s go, Tarver.” With a dismissive glance, she resumed her pace.

“Nick. Call me Nick.” He almost smiled at the cocky little she-devil’s back. He preferred a woman with spunk—but not at work. At work he liked people to follow orders. “Chief Burkholder will take your statement.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this interview over so we can get to work solving this case.”

He stepped around her and led the way through a bank of desks to a room located near the rear of the building. He held the door as the chief entered and Brenna followed. As she passed close enough to touch him, Nick caught the scents of herbal shampoo and fresh snow.

A strange combination of winter and spring. The unbidden impression formed in his mind from just that little whiff, and he brushed it aside. Too much detail about a witness he had no intention of keeping on his team.

Once they were inside the interview room, Nick Tarver closed the door, shutting them in and himself out. He moved down the hall and stepped into the observation room to watch and listen to the interview through the two-way mirror.

Stark and plain, the room was basically empty, with only a heavy metal table and two folding chairs in the middle of the floor. A single, uncovered lightbulb provided enough light to illuminate all four corners.

Brenna circled the room and stopped to stare into the mirror. “Hey, Agent Tarver, can you hear me? ’Cause I don’t want to repeat myself later.”

He fought a sudden urge to chuckle. The woman was annoying, but ballsy.

Chief Burkholder waved toward a chair. “Have a seat, Special Agent Jensen.” Gone was the surrogate-father figure and in his place was the professional police officer.

She set her satchel on the floor and pulled out a photocopy of the note she’d received. “I suppose you’d like to see the copy of the note and the envelope.”

He took the paper and shot a brief glance at it before setting it to one side of the table. “Let’s start at the beginning. Your full name.”

“You know me, Chief.” She glared at the mirror, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop.

She was impatient and possibly a bit nervous knowing Nick was watching her. He sat in a chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Good. Make her sweat. He was glad he’d chosen to watch instead of interrogate. This way he could study her openly.

The chief’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “For the record, please. You know the drill.”

With a sigh, she quit staring at the mirrored wall and stated, “Brenna Louise Jensen.”

“Occupation—special agent for the North Dakota Bureau of Criminal Investigations?”

“That’s right.” She shot a defiant look at the mirror.

So, she was a criminal investigator. It didn’t mean she’d work with him.

The older man wrote on a tablet and then looked up at her. “Tell me what happened.”

“I found this letter in the mailbox at my town house when I got home from work on Friday.”

Chief Burkholder sat up straight, his pen poised in midair. “Not at work, but at home?”

Nick leaned forward. That was news. He’d assumed she’d gotten it at her office. So the kidnapper knew where she lived.

“Right.”

“And there were no prints?” They knew there weren’t any, but the chief had to put it in the record.

“No.”

“Where was the letter postmarked?” he asked.

“Riverton Post Office.” She sighed. “That’s why I’m here.”

“In your line of work, have you been assigned to cases involving violent criminals?”

Her chin rose as if challenging the man behind the wall. “Yeah. That’s my job.”

The chief scribbled her answers on the notepad before he looked up again. “And Riverton’s your hometown, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” she stated. “It’s where I grew up.”

The chief continued. “Has anyone from Riverton ever threatened you?”

“No,” she said, her fingers drumming against the tabletop.

“Were you ever involved in an incident that would make someone consider you a threat?”

Her hand stilled. “Other than my casework?”

“Correct.”

She hesitated, darting another glance at the mirror as she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “No.”

Was the hair-flicking a nervous gesture? Was she not telling the chief something? Nick’s gut said yes. What secrets could a criminal investigator have?

Chief Burkholder continued the questioning without delving into her answer. If Nick had conducted the interview, he’d have questioned her further. But she was a cop and probably didn’t think the information was relevant to the case.

When the interview was over, Brenna stood and gathered her satchel and the copy of her note. “Now can we get on with solving this case?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” The chief patted her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you where they’ve set up.”

Nick left the observation room ahead of Brenna and the chief and beat them to the large conference room. It had been converted to a “war room.” Completely covering one wall was a large whiteboard with a time line sketched out in black erasable marker. Three notches were marked with the names of the missing women and the times they’d been reported missing. Another spot was marked Note.

Now that he had Brenna’s statement, she wasn’t necessary to the case and Nick wanted her out of the station and on her way back to Bismarck.

Although she was another key to solving the case, Nick had no intention of allowing her onto his team. He liked to work with people he knew and trusted. Get in, solve the crime, get out and don’t get involved. That was Nick’s policy and he sure as hell didn’t want to be in this godforsaken, frigid country any longer than he had to. He braced himself for the coming clash of wills with Special Agent Jensen.

The woman topmost on his mind breezed into the war room and tossed her satchel onto the conference table as if throwing down the gauntlet.

Chief Burkholder handed Nick the copy of the note he’d already seen on a blurry faxed copy they’d received around four that morning while Jensen had been en route.

Nick laid the paper on the table and walked over to Brenna. No time like the present. “Thank you for your statement, Special Agent Jensen. We no longer need your services. I advise you to return to Bismarck and lock your doors.”

She stared up into his face for a long moment, her rate of breathing increasing until the air she exhaled blew in a sharp stream out her nose. Then she stepped closer to him, until her chest bumped against his. “I’m an experienced investigator assigned to this case by the state of North Dakota. I’m not running from some jerk who thinks he can pull my chain.”

“Agent Tarver,” Chief Burkholder said and then cleared his throat. “Jensen is one of North Dakota’s best.”

“I don’t care.” Tarver’s eyes never left her face, and his expression remained unbending. “She’s a liability. I can’t focus on the case if I’m playing bodyguard.”

Her face flushed red. “I don’t need your protection. I’ve been in law enforcement for six years. I can take care of myself.”

That she hadn’t backed down impressed him at the same time as it annoyed him. “In case you haven’t gotten the picture, the FBI has jurisdiction and is calling the shots now. You’re off the case.”

“Understand this, Agent Tarver. I will be involved fully in this case, with or without the FBI. I have more at stake here than you or any of your agents. This is my hometown, not yours. Nobody gets away with kidnapping or murder in my hometown.”

“Agent Tarver, Special Agent Jensen is assigned from the state level. She won’t be returning to Bismarck. If you don’t include her on the team, she’ll be working by herself to solve this case. You’d better serve the cause by including her.” Chief Burkholder laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

Okay, so the girl had the chief’s confidence. He could admire that, but he didn’t like being forced to accept her on his team. He shook off the chief’s hand and stared down his nose into Brenna’s clear blue eyes. “Get this straight, Jensen, I give the orders. Do you understand?”

For a moment, he thought she would spit in his eye and tell him to go to hell. But her shoulders pushed back and she met his gaze head-on. “I do.”

“Good. Then don’t get in my way.”

“So does that mean I’m a part of the team?”

“I’ll let you know.” For a moment, Nick swam in the depths of her stormy blue eyes. Until he remembered how badly he’d been burned by a woman with blue eyes and why he’d never go there again. “Time’s wasting. We’ve got a killer to catch before he does it again.”

Chapter Two

With Nick’s back to her, Brenna took in several deep breaths to help slow her pulse rate. Although she’d rather launch herself at the man and scratch his eyes out, she knew he had the right to toss her from the team. If she wanted to stay, she had to play it his way. But she didn’t have to like it.

“Let’s look at that letter again.” Chief Burkholder crossed the room and leaned over the table to read aloud, “‘The killing’s only just begun. Watch them drop now, one by one.’”

A chill slithered down Brenna’s spine. “Creepy, huh?”

“Doesn’t sound good.” The chief scrubbed a hand over his face. The lines around his eyes and across his forehead seemed so much deeper than the last time Brenna had seen him. Tom Burkholder had been around a long time. He’d taken over as chief five years ago when Brenna’s father had died of a heart attack. Those years hadn’t been so hard on him, but he was ready for retirement, not for a serial killer on his home turf. “Do you know what the spot is in the middle?” he asked.

“I have the crime lab looking at it. It looked like blood.” Brenna drew in a deep breath, her lungs tight in her chest. “I haven’t figured out why he sent me the letter.”

Agent Tarver faced her, his eyes narrowed. “Think he might be a past conviction?”

“Maybe.”

The FBI agent’s attention jerked back to the whiteboard and he pointed a finger at the first mark. “Why now?”

Chief Burkholder offered, “Perhaps he’s freshly out of jail and wants revenge.”

God, she hated to think she was the reason a man was kidnapping and maybe killing other women. Nothing like a load of guilt to weigh her down during this investigation. All the more reason to catch him as soon as possible.

Nick’s gaze caught hers.

Brenna looked away first, with the uncomfortable certainty that Tarver could read her thoughts.

He turned to the chief. “I want a scan on all the criminals Jensen had a hand in putting away, which ones are out on parole and those living in the area.”

With a self-satisfied toss of her hair, she interjected, “I already have a colleague back in Bismarck doing just that. He should fax it any time to this station.”

“So where does that leave us?” Chief Burkholder asked the room.

“Three missing women, no bodies and only speculation on motivation. And a letter that could be a hoax sent to a state criminal investigator.” Nick lifted the letter. “Looks like a typical computer printout. Could be anyone.”

A blond man Brenna didn’t recognize entered the room reading from a clipboard. “Victim one was a psychiatrist. She disappeared sometime between last Wednesday night and Thursday morning, when she didn’t show up for work. Missing person number two disappeared sometime Friday night. Her family notified us Saturday morning when she didn’t make a date with her mother.” When he glanced up, he lit the room with a grin and held out his hand to Brenna. “By the way, I’m Agent Paul Fletcher.”

Brenna couldn’t help but smile; it was a natural reaction to the sparkle in the man’s light gray eyes. “Brenna Jensen.”

His eyebrows rose and he squeezed her hand a little tighter. “Ah, the lady with the psycho pen pal.”

With an uneasy laugh, Brenna pulled her hand from Paul’s. “That’s me. Lucky, huh?” She liked Paul instinctively. Unlike his partner, the dark and brooding Nick, he was warm and personable.

“Hang with us.” He winked. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Move over, Romeo.” A woman almost as tall as the other two FBI agents pushed through the doorway behind Paul and held out her hand. “Melissa Bradley, part of this motley crew.”

“Nice to meet you.” Before the words completely left Brenna’s mouth, Melissa had dropped her hand, slid another sheet on top of the clipboard Paul held and walked to the whiteboard. “Victim two was identified as Dr. Deborah Gomez, from across the river. Single female, lives alone. Victim three Michelle Carmichael, also single. Does it ever warm up around here? I think Texas is looking pretty good about now.”

“All single women who live alone?” Brenna mused aloud. “Yeah, Texas does sound great.”

“Two were doctors,” Paul added. “The psychiatrist was Dr. Janine Drummond. But I didn’t think you liked Texas, Mel.”

She snorted. “I’m liking it better than the Arctic here!”

The rest of Paul’s response was lost on Brenna. As the name Janine Drummond sank in, Brenna’s stomach dropped as if she’d hit a major dip in the road. “Did you say Dr. Drummond?”

“Yeah.” Paul’s head came up. “You know her? She was an older woman who had a practice here for over twenty-five years.”

“I know Dr. Drummond. She’s a very nice woman. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.” Brenna had been one of her patients. Dr. Drummond had helped her deal with the emotional side of being scarred. But the others didn’t need to know that yet. Maybe never.

The doctor had been someone she could talk to when no one else had understood. Who would do such a thing? Brenna forced the tears back. She couldn’t show emotions with this bunch. Especially Nick Tarver. Emotion was a sign of weakness. She gulped past the lump in her throat and worked at a casual tone. “Dr. Gomez must be new to the area. I don’t recognize the name. Do you know anything else about her?” Brenna asked. “What kind of doctor is she?”

“Professor at the university. She specializes in quantitative physics.” Melissa shrugged. “Paul and I were about to go out and question her staff.”

“Carmichael is into real estate, also lives alone,” Paul said. “We’ll stop by her office as well and see if anyone knows anything.”

“Good. Any sign of forced entry?” Brenna asked.

“No,” Nick said. “Either our perpetrator entered through unlocked windows or the victims opened their doors for him. We did find one of the windows where the snow and ice had been scraped away.”

“Any fingerprints?” Brenna knew from the letter the guy was careful. He wouldn’t risk leaving a sloppy fingerprint.

“Not one.” Paul shook his head. “The places were clean. There was evidence of a struggle around Dr. Gomez’s bed with bloodstains on the carpet. We’ll have it analyzed to verify.”

Brenna tapped a finger to her lips. “Have you pulled names of registered sex offenders in the area?”

“Done.” Nick pulled a list from beneath a tack on the wall and handed it to Brenna. “One pedophile, Timothy Johnston, known for indecent exposure with grade-school kids, and one other, a convicted rapist, Bart Olsen, out on parole for the past month.”

Paul pulled a sheet of paper off the clipboard and handed it to Nick. “Just got a report from Johnston’s parole officer. Said his parolee has been in Tennessee visiting relatives for the past two weeks and they have eyewitnesses that place him in Nashville at the time of the abductions. That puts him out of the picture for now. No one’s seen Olsen, and his parole officer hasn’t heard from him in a week.”

“Not good. When they catch up with him, I want to sit in on that interview,” Brenna said.

Nick frowned. “No.”

Brenna blinked. “No? Not even, ‘let me think about it’ or ‘maybe that’s not a good idea’? Just ‘no’?” She planted her fist on a hip. “I’m investigating this case, too. If I can’t interview potential suspects, I can’t do my job.”

“You can watch from behind the mirror.” Nick’s jaw set firmly. He wasn’t budging. “I don’t want you in range of this guy in case he is the killer.”

“You’re assuming the note writer is the kidnapper and the missing women are dead.”

Nick nodded. “Based on the note, the blood found in the Gomez house and the smear of what looked like blood on that paper, yes.”

“I’ll let you do the interview this time.” Brenna held up her hand when Nick opened his mouth to speak. “But don’t pull this on me again. I’m a trained investigator. I know how to conduct an interview.” Before he could say another word, she spun on the heel of her black leather boots and marched down the hallway.

“If anyone asks, I’ve gone to the Riverton Inn. Otherwise, I’ll be back in an hour,” Brenna said to the officer at the front desk.

“Shouldn’t you clear it with Nick first?” Melissa Bradley leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Since he doesn’t consider me part of the team, I don’t have to inform him of my whereabouts.” Brenna needed to get away and clear her head so she could concentrate on the case. And she had a short social visit to make. Emphasis on short. “If it means anything to you, I’ll clear it with him when I get back.”

BRENNA STOOD IN FRONT of her sister’s spacious two-story home on West Nodak Street. The road was lined with dozens of similar homes—tan, white and gray siding as far as the eye could see, each sidewalk and driveway adrift with the new-fallen snow. The longer she stood, the colder her ears grew with the wind beating against her cap, penetrating the double layer of yarn. Facing the wine-colored door, she had two clear choices: go in and face her family, or stand here and freeze. Funny how freezing seemed the lesser of the two evils.

The wooden door opened and her sister, Alice, peered through the frosted glass of the storm door.

Okay, so now she was down to one choice and it was made for her.

“Brenna? What are you doing standing out in the cold?” Alice pushed the storm door open wider and waved toward her. “Get in here before you freeze.”

“Hi, Alice.” Brenna stepped in on the all-weather mat and immediately removed her boots and outside clothing. “Where’s Mom?”

“Nice to see you, too.” Alice hung her jacket on a peg and then held out her arms. “Don’t I get a hug from my favorite sister?”

Feeling ungracious and unloving, Brenna tried to cook up some enthusiasm for the sister she hadn’t seen in a month. “I’m sorry, of course you get a hug. I’ve missed you,” she said.

“Liar.” But Alice hugged her anyway. “Mom’s in her room. Come on back and say hello.”

Quick to establish expectations up front, Brenna blurted, “I can’t stay long. I’m here on business.”

“I heard on the news.” Alice’s pretty face crumpled into a worried frown. “Isn’t it terrible? Two women missing in just a few days.”

Make that three. When Brenna opened her mouth to respond to her sister’s concern, she was interrupted with a loud, “Alice!”

“That will be Mom. You’d better get back there and say hello.”

“Is she with us today?” Brenna asked.

Alice held her hand out palm down and tipped it back and forth. “In and out.”

“Great. Isn’t there anything they can do for her?”

“We’ve got her on rivastigmine tartrate, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”

Brenna’s heart ached with the mental loss of the only parent she had left. “I wish we had her back.”

Their mother had started showing signs of Alzheimer’s two years ago and her progression had been swift and painful to her family. Once an active woman who enjoyed volunteering at the hospital and the Salvation Army thrift shop, Marian Jensen had her driving privileges revoked and was forced to move in with Alice and her husband so they could make sure she didn’t wander out into the cold and die of exposure.

“She shows up on occasion, maybe she’ll be with us today.”

“Let’s hope.” With a deep breath, Brenna pushed her shoulders back and followed her sister down the hallway. “Are you sure you’re okay with this arrangement? We could look into a nursing home.”

“No way. Mom’s only sixty-eight and she gets around just fine. We need to save the money for a nursing home when I can’t help her anymore.”

“I feel bad this is all on your shoulders. Just let me know what I can do to help. Maybe I can watch Mom and the kids one weekend so you and Stan can take a trip or something.”

“That would be great.” Alice smiled. “I don’t know the last time Stan and I had time alone.”

“Of course it’ll be after we solve this case.”

“Oh, I hope it’s soon. It’s so scary knowing there’s a psycho loose in our town. This is Riverton, for God sakes, not Minneapolis or Chicago.”

Alice led the way into a well-lit room with a double bed on one side and a small couch positioned close to the window. Their mother sat on the couch, a colorful afghan draped across her lap and a crocheted shawl around her shoulders.

Brenna bent to press a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “Hi, Mom. It’s me, Brenna.”

Marian Jensen glared up at her. “I know who you are.”

Brenna suppressed a grimace and forced a smile for her mother. “I love you, Mom.”

“That’s more like it.” Her mother patted the couch cushion next to her. “Come sit by me.”

Brenna scrambled for something to say as she settled on the seat next to the woman who was becoming less her mother and more a stranger every day. “How’ve you been, Mom?”

“When are you going to get married, Brenna?” Ever since her mother had started showing signs of Alzheimer’s, she’d fixated on Brenna’s marital status. She’d forgotten so many things about her past, but it seemed she clung to the dream of seeing her daughter married as her last hold on reality.

“I don’t know, Mom.” Brenna squirmed in her seat, never comfortable talking about marriage or relationships.

Her mother patted her knee. “There are a lot of lonely men out there who can love you despite your scars. You’ve just set your standards too high.”

Alice rolled her eyes while Brenna braced for the lecture.

“That’s what’s the matter with you, Brenna. You can’t expect to have the perfect marriage, like your sister. You’re not perfect, God love you, and you know I love you, too. But the truth is, you’re damaged goods. You have to lower your expectations.”

As her mother went on and on, Brenna tuned out. If she didn’t, she’d go crazy. For the past two years, her mother had presented her with the same argument. Settle, Brenna. Don’t waste your life looking for perfection. Alice has it, but you’re not Alice.

As her mother droned on, Brenna’s jaw tightened until she felt as if she’d ground a quarter inch off her back teeth. When her head reached the explosion point, she stood. “I have to go.”

“You just got here.” The nagging woman disappeared leaving a lonely old lady who relied on her family for her care. Her mother, the woman who’d loved her unconditionally until her mind had begun to fade. “Stay awhile with me. You know how much I love having both my little girls with me.” She reached out to clutch her wrist, her grip surprisingly firm for a woman who might weigh all of ninety pounds dripping wet.

“I love you, Mom, but I have to go to work.” She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

“They feed me cooked carrots. You know I hate carrots.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Mom.” Brenna nodded toward her sister. “Alice, perhaps you and I can go discuss the menu?”

“Of course.” She tucked the crocheted blanket around her mother’s knees. “Mom, I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Carrots.” The old woman snorted. “Rabbits eat carrots. I want steak and potatoes.”

Brenna stepped out into the hall. Leaning against the wall, she let the stress drain from her pores.

Alice followed, easing the door closed behind her. After the latch clicked gently in place, she reached out and pulled her sister into her arms. “Mom doesn’t know what she’s saying anymore, sweetie. Don’t let her words hurt you.”

“I don’t.” Yeah right. Then why couldn’t she catch her breath or swallow past the lump in her throat? She pressed her eyelids closed. Hell, she was the cop in the family. The one to carry on her father’s legacy. Cops don’t cry.

“Brenna?” Alice gripped her shoulders, forcing her to stare into her eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman and you don’t have to settle for anyone. The right man just hasn’t come along.”

As she stared into her sister’s face, an image of Nick Tarver superimposed over her mind. Nick, standing next to the whiteboard, his black hair a dramatic contrast, those green eyes so intense with dedication to the job at hand. Perfect in every way, except one. He was too perfect. Like her honey-blond-haired sister with flawless skin that showed no sign of wrinkles nor scars to mar the precision of her beauty. Her husband loved her, doted on her and had given her two beautiful little boys and a house in the right neighborhood.

Her mother treated Brenna to endless diatribes on how well Alice had married. Why can’t you be more like your sister? Alice—the all-American cheerleader, top of her class and homecoming queen her senior year.

Too often Brenna had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming, Because I’m not Alice. I don’t have a home, family and husband. And I don’t have a perfect body to attract a man.

Why she let it get to her, Brenna didn’t know. The trip from Bismarck had taken its toll. Exhausted and in need of a shower, she stepped away from her sister.

“Alice, it’s good to see you. Since I’m on assignment, I don’t know when I’ll get by to visit Stan and the boys. Will you say hi for me?”

“Sure.” Alice laid a hand on her arm. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

“Yes.” Brenna lifted her sister’s hand. “And the same goes for you. Make sure you lock your house and don’t let anyone in. So far, the kidnapper is targeting single women. But we don’t know if he’ll go after married ones as well.”

“I heard Dr. Drummond was one of the missing persons. I’m so sorry. I know you used to see her.” Alice’s forehead creased in a frown. “Do you think he’s killing them?”

Brenna inhaled and let the air out slowly. “We don’t have proof and we may not find them until spring, but my gut tells me it’s not good.”

Alice’s face blanched. “Wow. Here in Riverton? A killer in our midst.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Makes me want to go pick up my kids from school and keep them inside.”

“You do that. And lock your windows. If you have a security system, make sure it’s on.”

“Seems strange taking orders from my baby sister. But you were always the strong one.” Alice squeezed her hand. “Just like Dad. Mom and I leaned heavily on you when he died. Must have been hard for you. You and Dad were so close.”

“I didn’t mind.” Liar. She’d missed her father so much after his death, but she couldn’t fall apart. Her mother and sister needed her to be strong. So she was. “Besides, I have to keep it together. The kidnapper sent me a note after the first woman disappeared.”

“No!” Alice’s eyes widened and her face paled. “He could be after you next. Do you think it’s someone you know? Oh, Brenna, you’re a single woman. Are you safe walking around on the streets? You should come stay with Stan and me. Speak of the devil…” Alice directed a smile over Brenna’s shoulder. “There’s Stan now.”

As Stanley Klaus stepped through the front door, Brenna turned to face him, a friendly smile of greeting pasted on her face. The man was every bit as tall as Nick, but not quite as broad in the shoulders. His sandy-blond hair was pleasantly ruffled by the wind. Brenna understood what Alice had seen in Stan. He was a good-looking man.

The right side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Brenna, good to see you.” He reached out and engulfed her in a hug. “What’s it been—a month since you were here last?”

Brenna endured the embrace for her sister. No matter how hard she tried, she never felt as though Stan was family and she didn’t like being hugged by anyone but family and very close friends. Somehow, Stan didn’t fit into either category.

“I’d stay and catch up, but I just stopped for a bill I left on my computer.” Stan left the women standing in the hallway, an awkward silence stretching between them until he walked back through the house with a paper in his hand. “Got it! I might be late for dinner.” With that parting comment, he sailed through the door and was gone.

Alice’s gaze followed him until his car left the driveway, a small frown crinkling the middle of her forehead. “Nice to see you, too, dear,” she said softly. When she finally faced Brenna, her lips twisted into a wistful smile. “That’s the life of an old married woman.”

“You’re not old.” Brenna wrapped her arms around her sister and hugged her briefly before stepping away. “I know this is crazy but I always get the feeling he’s never forgiven me for trying to talk you out of marrying him.”

Her sister snorted. “At my wedding! You have to admit that was pretty poor timing on your part.”

“I’m sorry. I had no right.”

“Yes, you did.” Alice smiled, only her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You did what any sister would do. You tried to give me one last chance to change my mind. But it’s been seven years, I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it.”

Brenna shrugged into her coat. “Well, you know where I’ll be and I’ll have my cell phone if you need to contact me.”

“You sure you won’t stay with us? We’d love to have you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be in and out at odd hours and I only need a place to shower and sleep.”

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and gave Brenna her best big-sister scowl. “Let me guess, you’ll be at the police station the rest of the time.”

“Or out searching for clues.”

“And you couldn’t have crummier weather.”

“Tell me about it.” Brenna hated the last part of winter. After six months of snow, she and everyone else in North Dakota were ready for green grass and sunshine.

Alice sighed. “At least at the police station you’re surrounded by other cops. And they say warmer weather is at the back end of this storm.”

“I hope so. Look, I have to go.” Brenna straightened her shoulders. “Remember, be careful. If this guy is really after me, you could be in danger just by your association with me. You might consider going to stay in the Cities.” Five hours away, the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul teamed with traffic and their own share of crime. Yet they suddenly seemed like a safe haven compared to the small town of Riverton, North Dakota.

If Brenna did her job right, Riverton would be back on track for one of the best places to raise a family. Then she’d get her promotion and move to Minnesota and even farther away from her hometown and family.

If she didn’t get killed in the meantime.

Chapter Three

Checked in at the hotel, Brenna stripped down to skin and padded to the bathroom to brush the road grime from her teeth. As she stood in front of the mirror, her mother’s words returned to bounce around her thoughts.

Settle for a man who’ll accept her and all her scars.

She stood back and assessed herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Besides the toothbrush in her mouth, she looked pretty normal. A little on the short side, but just like anyone else. Until she turned around.

Pivoting, she glanced over her shoulder at the wide swath of scarred skin from her right shoulder down to the bottom of her right thigh. Laced across the smooth, leathery scar tissue was a mottled pattern of splotchy pink, purple and blue lines. Burned in a freak barn fire as a small child, she accepted the scars as a part of her. But children were cruel and many had poked fun at her, calling her alligator skin and burned cookie when she’d gone outside in shorts or a swimsuit. Not that she’d let them stop her. With her father’s love and encouragement, she’d grown up confident and as normal as she could. Yet when it came to adult situations in the bedroom, the lights were definitely off.

The one time she’d opened herself enough to let a man into her bed—that sleazebag Victor Greeley—he’d forgotten to tell her one important fact. The jerk was married. While she’d been hiding her scars in the dark, Victor had been hiding uglier sins.

She should have known better than to date a traveling salesman. What kind of cop was she that she fell into the age-old trap of being the other, unsuspecting woman?

After she’d learned his secret, avoiding him was easy…until he’d moved his wife to town and bought a house on a street just around the corner from Alice.

Brenna’s embarrassment at her stupidity, coupled with the guilt she felt for nearly ruining another woman’s marriage, was sufficient motivation to leave town and the police force she’d cut her teeth on. Living in Bismarck, she didn’t have to pass by Victor’s house, nor did she bump into his sweet but clueless wife, Ginnie, at the grocery store.

Brenna tapped the water out of her toothbrush and ran her tongue across her clean teeth. With the weather so bitterly cold she couldn’t go out to jog, she decided on a swim in the hotel pool and slipped into a one-piece black swimsuit. Grabbing a beach towel long enough to cover all her scars, she wrapped it around her middle, tucking the edge in at the top. A dozen laps ought to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders and help her think through the problem of one maniac on the loose. Her mind worked better when she generated exercise-induced endorphins.

The drive from Bismarck had been stressful enough without arriving to find the case had been turned over to the FBI. Especially since the man in charge was entirely too egocentric, gruff and good-looking for an FBI agent. Where’d they come up with these guys? She thought agents were chosen for their ability to blend in with a crowd. Not Nick. She could spot him in the Mall of America, much less a small town like Riverton.

She’d do her best to maintain her distance from Agent Tarver. He looked as if he could chew her up and spit her out if she crossed the line. Besides, she didn’t have time to play push-me-pull-you with him. A maniac was on the loose and her job was to find him before he abducted someone else.

Brenna slipped into a pair of flip-flops and padded down the hotel hallway to the glassed-in area with the heated pool. When she pushed through the doors, she was engulfed in a thick wave of humidity and the acrid scent of chlorine. She dropped her towel beside the pool and dove in.

Fifteen laps later and still no closer to a clear mind, she surfaced and grabbed the side of the pool. When she raised her hand to brush the stinging chlorine from her eyes, an iron grip clamped onto her wrist and she was jerked from the water.

Her heart in her throat and her eyes still cloudy with pool chemicals, Brenna struggled to plant her feet on the decking. Once she gained traction, she dropped into a football lineman stance and plowed into her attacker. Hit square in the gut, he fell backward to the ground.

Brenna staggered to regain her balance and stared down at Nick Tarver lying still on the hard concrete floor, his eyes closed.

Jeez, had she knocked him out?

Dropping to her knees, she stared down at his chest, looking for any sign of movement. None. Her heart beat loudly against her eardrums as she leaned forward to feel for the gentle puff of air blowing in and out through his nose.

Nick Tarver wasn’t breathing!

CPR training kicked in and Brenna tipped his head back. Pinching his nose, she sealed her lips over his and blew a long breath into his lungs, turning to see his chest rise as she did.

Before she could blow another breath, his arms clamped around her and she was flipped onto her back, their lips still connected. The air blasted out of her lungs and she lay in stunned paralysis for a full two seconds. Long enough for the man to straddle her and pin her hands to the concrete above her head. All without breaking the lip-lock.

BRENNA JENSEN WAS A WOMAN with a death wish and she needed a lesson on following orders. But now, with her wet body pinned beneath his thighs, he didn’t know who was teaching whom the lesson. She lay still beneath him, but she wasn’t fighting yet.

He hadn’t planned on wrestling her, but when she’d knocked him to the ground, his reactions had been instinctive. Now he was lying on top of a half-naked woman dripping wet from her recent swim.

What was worse, Nick’s traitorous body responded to all the shiny wet skin exposed by her discreet black swimsuit. And he was kissing her now, knowing she’d be pissed as hell when she came to her senses.

Perhaps the thought of her anger made him increase the pressure on her lips and drive his tongue between her teeth to war with hers. Hadn’t he come to teach her a lesson about what could happen when you didn’t follow orders?

The kiss lasted only a few agonizingly brief seconds before her muscles tightened and she gasped. Slender fingers flew from around his neck to plant firmly against his chest, shoving him backward. “Get off!” she sputtered, squirming beneath him until she realized she couldn’t dislodge him and he wasn’t going to budge.

“I’ll get off as soon as you calm down.”

When she stopped moving, he rolled off and sat on the concrete next to her, regret washing over him for his unprofessional actions in kissing her.

And all that squirming she’d done had left its mark on him—one that manifested itself beneath the zipper of his jeans. Damn this woman. She was more trouble than he’d bargained for and she’d get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful. “You didn’t check with me before leaving the police station.”

“Is that what this is all about?” She remained flat on her back, her breasts heaving beneath the black Lycra. “Are you telling me I have to report every move to you?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

She leaned on her elbow, her brows rising on her forehead. “I didn’t think I was a member of your team. Has that changed?”

“Yes.” The word flew from his mouth before he thought. Okay, so she could be a member of his team instead of stirring up trouble on the periphery.

“And if I weren’t a female member of your team, would you make the same rules?”

“Yes.”

“Bull!” Her glare sliced through him.

“Until we catch this lunatic, you’re to report every move to me, and only me. No leaving messages with any of the rest of my team or the Riverton Police Department.” He leaned closer until his face was only inches away from hers. “I will know your every move including when you go to the bathroom. Do you understand?”

Her mouth opened and closed without uttering a word, her blue eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights overhead. He thought she wouldn’t answer, when finally, she heaved a sigh and said, “Yes, sir.”

Nick rolled to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. Ignoring the hand, she lunged for a towel and slung it around her body without turning her back to him. Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and if Nick didn’t know better, he’d say she was embarrassed and perhaps a bit shy about being in a swimsuit in front of him. Funny how her embarrassment gave him a little twinge of something like endearment. Was he crazy?

Nick glanced down at his wet jeans and shirt. Now that her body wasn’t pressed against him, the cooler air made the wet spots uncomfortable. “The weather’s clearing and I wanted to get out and interview neighbors and coworkers of the missing women. You interested?”

“Yes, I am.” She tucked the end of the towel in over her breasts before she met his gaze. “I needed the exercise to clear my head. I would have been back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Just do us both a favor, and let me know exactly where you’re going. I don’t want another victim on my watch.” His gut clenched at the thought of Brenna’s swimsuit-clad body lying somewhere in a snowbank. He was only concerned because she was his key to the killer. Nick nodded his head toward the hallway. “Get changed. I’ll wait outside your door.”

Without a word, she blew through the glass doors and down the hallway to her room.

Nick followed her every step of the way, admiring the sway of her hips beneath the towel and the way her bare feet in the flip-flops made her look young and vulnerable. He should have waited in the lobby.

After sliding the plastic key card in the lock, Brenna stood with her hand on the doorknob. “If you’re going to wait for me, you might as well have a seat in my room.”

He nodded and followed her into the dark room, scanning the interior for any clues to this woman. Her suitcase stood open on one of the two queen-size beds, the contents a jumble of clothes and toiletries.

“Pack in a hurry?” he asked, settling into a chair in the corner of the room, thinking he really should march himself back down the hall to the lobby. But he wanted to know more about this woman who could knock him on his butt and still look like a lost little girl.

“When the assignment came through last night, I only took time to throw in the necessities.” She grabbed clothes and underwear and headed for the bathroom. “Give me two minutes.”

Nick stood, strolled across the commercial carpeting to the window on the far side and pushed the curtain aside. The skies had cleared and the sun shone brightly on the fresh layer of snow. It made him want to go out and stand in it. Nick didn’t like staying inside any more than he had to, but the weather in North Dakota forced people inside for long periods. He didn’t know how they did it. Now living in Norfolk, Virginia, and having spent most of his life on the southeast coast where winter may have included a few days of snow that melted within hours, he couldn’t comprehend living inside for six months out of the year.

The sound of the shower captured Nick’s attention, drawing his mind away from the case to the newest member of his team. The thought of water gliding over her pale, smooth skin had his blood burning a path south. He could still feel the warmth of her beneath his fingertips, the smooth wetness of her swimsuit pressed against his clothing. And that kiss. A mistake and definitely a distraction he could live without.

If he hadn’t already been burned by a woman, he might consider kissing her again. He sensed passion beneath her feisty exterior. He’d caught a glimpse of it under her enthusiasm for her job and her concern for her hometown. His body would like nothing more than to explore and discover just how passionate she was, on a purely physical level.

Nick turned back to the window. Brenna Jensen was part of his job, not his life. The last time he’d made a woman part of his life, he’d made her his wife. And what had that brought him? He’d lost his home, his marriage, his partner and best friend, but mostly his faith in women. Brenna Jensen was definitely hands-off. He had a case to solve and he had to contain any wayward attraction he might feel for the gutsy blonde.

Just as the door to the bathroom opened, his cell phone buzzed and vibrated in the belt clip on his hip. He flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear.

Brenna stepped from the steamy interior of the bathroom dressed in a pair of black wool trousers and a formfitting turtleneck sweater that hugged the swells of her breasts to perfection. Despite her questioning look, Nick had to turn away to concentrate on who was calling.

“Nick, this is Paul. We have a body.”

Chapter Four

After the investigative team had collected every bit of evidence they could, the ice-fishing shanty had been pushed aside, allowing the recovery team to retrieve the body. Brenna stood beside Nick Tarver, staring down into the drilled-out ice. The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, blocking out the horror of what she saw.

Dr. Janine Drummond’s white, naked body bobbed in and out of view of the hole drilled through two feet of solid ice into Eagle Lake.

Brenna turned away, bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t lose her stomach. Not in front of these people. A professional kept her cool.

This was a woman she’d known and respected for years. In past cases she’d investigated, the victims had been people she’d never met.

Dave Jorgensen and Mike Koenig stood in their insulated coveralls and Elmer Fudd hats, their faces pale and pinched, giving their statement to Sheriff Tindale.

While Mike stared at the ice, Dave did all the talking. “Once the storm cleared, we thought we’d get out here before the ice started melting. This was one of the holes we’d drilled last weekend. As soon as we saw what was down there, we got in the truck and headed to town to call. It ’bout gave us a heart attack, it scared us so bad. But we didn’t kill that lady and put her down there. No, sir, we didn’t.”

“It’s okay, Dave,” Sheriff Tindale said.

A detective snapped pictures of the hole and the dead woman, the camera clicks muffled by the westerly breeze blowing across the frozen lake.

All Brenna could see were the pale arms and torso of Dr. Drummond snagged by Dave’s fishing line. A quiver shook Brenna’s body so hard her teeth rattled.

Agent Tarver leaned close. “You okay?”

Without glancing up, Brenna nodded. She wanted to ignore the man. Instead, she studied him in her peripheral vision.

His dark hair fell across the deep frown lines on his forehead and his ears were turning pink from the cold. The black jacket and black hair were a stark contrast to the white landscape, making him seem larger than life.

She didn’t want to notice him, didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. But he stood beside her, the faint scent of his aftershave wafting her way as the wind shifted. Again she shivered, although not from the cold.

Tarver nudged her elbow with his gloved hand. “Want to get out of here?”

His touch jump-started her numb brain and she realized she wasn’t doing anything to solve this case by staring at a dead woman. “No.”

“Since you’re from around here, why don’t you ask the questions? They’ll trust you more.”

She nodded and made her way over to Dave. “Mr. Jorgensen, do you leave your hut out here all winter?”

“Yes, ma’am. Been out here since last November. Even left the auger all locked up inside. Didn’t think anyone would break in and use it.”

“See any tire tracks or footprints nearby?” she asked.

“No, but then it snowed pretty heavy.”

“Thanks, Dave.” Brenna moved on to one of the sheriff’s deputies tasked with gathering the evidence. “Make sure you brush away loose snow. If someone drove out here, there should be packed snow tracks crushed into the ice beneath the fresh snow.”

He glanced up at the bright sunshine beating down on them. “If we’re gonna do it, it’ll have to be soon. That sun will melt the evidence, otherwise.”

Already, the new snow that hadn’t blown away with storm winds was soft and slushy. Brenna stared up at the clear blue sky. “If the sun keeps shining and the weather starts warming, it won’t be long before the ice thins.” As if to emphasize her point, a loud crack ripped through the air like the sound of a shotgun blast.

Nick jumped, his brow dropping into a fierce frown. “What the hell was that?”

“The ice cracking,” Brenna answered, ducking to hide a hint of a smile.

“Cracking?” He glanced around at the others. “And nobody’s worried about falling in?”

“Not yet,” Dave Jorgensen said. “The ice is still thick. It’ll hold.”

Brenna looked up at Nick, her lips twitching. “Ready to go?”

“Ready when you are.” He inhaled deeply and rolled his neck and shoulders, clearly uncomfortable out on the frozen lake. “Where to?”

“I want to talk to Dr. Drummond’s neighbors.”

“The police department interviewed the folks on both sides, across the street and behind them. No one saw anything.”

“Then we need to ask again.” She snapped her collar up to block the wind. “There’s got to be something.”

“For once, I couldn’t agree with you more.” Nick slid on the ice and Brenna put a hand out to steady him. When they reached her Jeep, he held her door. “Just can’t see the attraction in ice fishing. I always thought of lakes as places you swim or boat in, not drive on in a one-ton vehicle.”

Brenna climbed behind the wheel. “I never thought of it as a place to ditch a body. Makes me wonder where he’s left the others. Should we be examining all the fishing holes in the lake?”

“Not a bad thought. I’ll check with the sheriff.” Nick walked away across the ice, each step measured and careful.

Brenna hid a smile. At least he was game to step out on the ice. Some people wouldn’t dream of it. The thought of the ice cracking and dumping them into freezing waters was more than most cared to face.

As Nick climbed into the passenger seat, the image of Janine Drummond surfaced in Brenna’s thoughts and she shuddered.

“Are you cold?” He closed his door and peeled his gloves off, holding his hands to the heater vent.

“No, just chilled by what we found.”

“Yeah.” Nick’s lips thinned. “Now we know for sure we’re dealing with a killer.”

All the more reason to bring him in as soon as possible. She turned the vehicle and headed toward the shoreline, memories of better times flooding in.

“You act like you know your way around on the ice,” Nick said.

“I used to come out here with my father to ice fish.” She remembered the old ice hut he’d built with scrap lumber. As soon as the ice was thick enough to hold his truck, he’d drag the shanty out on the lake and spend many contented hours fishing for walleye and trout. Brenna joined him most of the time, relaxed by the sound of the wind wailing against the boards and a companionable silence with her father.

Not Alice. She preferred to be out and about with her friends, shopping, bowling or playing games indoors. Brenna always thought she should have been born a boy. But her father had never made her feel that way. “What can a boy do that you can’t?” he’d asked, and handed her a fishing pole and bait.

“You and your father were close?” Nick’s low tone broke through Brenna’s thoughts.

“Yeah.” The old ache settled against her chest. He’d been the main man in her life. The only man to understand her and accept her for who she was, not what she looked like.

“Must have been nice. My father was gone a lot while I was growing up.” He said with no emotion, as if he were stating a fact.

Brenna pictured a little boy sitting on the front porch with a fishing pole and no one to take him fishing. She was very fortunate to have had a father as supportive as hers, who’d cared enough to teach her how to enjoy life’s simpler pleasures. The cold days spent on the lake with her father would be forever etched into her heart.

But Eagle Lake had changed.

“I had good memories of this place until today. Now I can’t get the image of Dr. Drummond’s body out of my mind.”

Nick nodded, staring out across the white landscape. “We’ll get him.”

“You bet we will.” Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Let’s just hope we do before he kills again.”

“I’m afraid he already has. Question is where’d he hide the bodies?”

THE REST OF THE DRIVE back to town was accomplished in silence. Sun shone down on the snow and ice, making a smooth glaze of moisture over the top. When darkness fell, the water would freeze and make a treacherous layer of black ice.

Nick stared out the window without absorbing the scenery. Instead, he combed through what little evidence they had so far and came up with nothing.

Brenna drove straight to Janine Drummond’s little cottage nestled among towering barren cottonwoods on East Thirty-second Avenue. Yellow crime-scene tape marked the exterior of the fifty-year-old white house with the forest-green trim.

As soon as she shifted into Park, Brenna climbed down from the Jeep and headed for the house on the east side of Dr. Drummond’s.

Behind her, Nick admired her no-nonsense pursuit of answers and the way her hips swayed as she picked her way across the slippery, wet driveway.

After knocking several times with no answer, Brenna turned to leave.

Nick touched her arm. “Wait.” He nodded toward the front window where a curtain twitched. “Sir,” he called out, “I’m Agent Nick Tarver with the FBI. Could we have a word with you about Dr. Drummond?” Nick pulled his credentials out of his pocket and held them high.

Brenna followed suit.

Several seconds passed before they heard the sound of a dead bolt being unlocked and the door cracked open.

An old man dressed in wool slacks and a gray sweater peeked through the opening. “We already gave our statement.”

Brenna stepped forward. “I’m Special Agent Brenna Jensen. We just want to ask a few questions,” she said softly, extending her hand. “Please, sir, we need more information.”

Nick was impressed with the gentle quality of Brenna’s voice. How different from the tough-as-nails cop back at the station. And whatever she was doing was working on the old man.

“Dean Helmke.” The man reached out and shook Brenna’s hand. “I don’t know what I can add to what we told the police department.”

“We’ll only take a few minutes of your time, sir.” Brenna smiled. “We want to understand the case.”

The man sighed. “You’ll have to talk to me. My wife’s lying down. All the excitement and worry is making her sick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Brenna said softly.

“Come in.” The man held the door wide and waved them forward. “It’s still too cold to stand outside for long.”

“Thank you.” Brenna stomped her feet on the outside mat before she stepped through.

“Although, the way the sun’s been shining, won’t be long before the spring melt.” Mr. Helmke moved aside to make room for them. “Hope it doesn’t do it all at once. Sure don’t want a repeat of the flood of ninety-seven.”

“No, we don’t.” Brenna kicked off her boots and hung her jacket on a coat rack. Then she nudged Nick in the side, staring pointedly at his boots, before she padded in her stocking feet to the living room.

Nick removed his boots and jacket and followed, glad he didn’t have holes in his socks.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Mr. Helmke asked.

“No, thank you.” Nick took a seat across the room. “We’ll only take a minute of your time.” He nodded at Brenna. Having made the man feel at ease, she could lead the questioning.

Brenna waited until Mr. Helmke sat in a faded recliner before she launched into her questions. “Sir, when was the last time you saw Dr. Drummond?”

“Last Wednesday when she got home from work. I offered to help carry in her groceries.” He dropped his head into his hands and his bony shoulders shook. “Can’t believe she’s gone. I should have gone by and checked on her later that night.”

Brenna sat patiently until the man straightened.

“I’m sorry.” The old man scrubbed a hand down his face and looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. “I keep thinking of all the things I should have done, if I’d been a good neighbor.”

“You couldn’t have known, Mr. Helmke. You weren’t responsible for what happened to her,” Nick said.

But Mr. Helmke wasn’t listening. No matter what Brenna or Nick said, he’d probably carry the guilt, anyway.

Brenna patted the man’s hand, a good technique for gaining his confidence. Yet, Nick didn’t think she was as worried about technique as she was about the man’s feelings. She had a natural familiarity with the people of Riverton, an affinity with their way of life and the loss of one of their own. She rested her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands together. “Did you hear anything, or see anything unusual Wednesday night?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He shook his head. “How could someone walk right in and steal a person away and no one see or hear anything? How?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Helmke.” Brenna stared straight ahead at nothing Nick could see. “But we’ll do our best to catch him.”

The old man kept talking as if Brenna hadn’t said a thing. “It’s so bad, my wife is afraid to sleep at night and afraid to take sleeping pills in case the kidnapper comes after one of us.” He reached out and grabbed Brenna’s hand. “I have a loaded pistol in my nightstand. Never in the sixty years I’ve lived in Riverton have I slept with a loaded pistol in my nightstand.”

The fear in the old man’s face made Nick’s gut tighten.

“Oh, Mr. Helmke.” Brenna brows dipped low. “Please be careful you or your wife don’t end up shooting each other.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.” He squeezed her hand. “I knew your daddy, God rest his soul, and I’ve heard good things about you. You’ll catch him, won’t you? We won’t sleep at night with that maniac on the loose. I don’t see how anyone in this town can rest knowing they aren’t safe in their own beds.”

Brenna’s shoulders straightened. “We’ll do our best. I promise.”

Damn right they would. Nick always got his man and this killer wouldn’t get away without paying for his crime.

THE WINDS HAD DIED DOWN by the time they stepped out of the Helmke home into the sunshine. After the brisk breeze out on the lake, the sunshine felt good on Brenna’s face, as if God were making a promise that spring wasn’t far behind. The snow she trudged through on her way to the Jeep was quickly becoming a dirty, slushy mess with water streaming into the streets. “The weatherman said we’d have three full days of this, maybe more.”

“This what?” Nick stood next to her vehicle staring back at Janine Drummond’s house.

“Sunshine and warm temperatures.” Brenna tipped her face to the sun and closed her eyes, absorbing the rays.

“You call this warm?”

Agent Tarver’s voice felt like the sun on her skin, teasing her with a promise of more to come. The thought brought her back to the cold, wet earth with a splash. “It’s above zero,” she said. “What do you want?” She unlocked the door to the Jeep and kicked off the crusty snow from her boots before climbing in.

Tarver repeated the process and got in on his side. “Seventy and sunny would be nice.”

She laughed. “Around here you learn to appreciate anything out of the minus temperatures. A person doesn’t know real misery until he’s stood out in minus forty-five with a windchill factor of minus sixty. That’s when you think seriously about braving the hurricanes of Florida rather than a blue norther.”

Nick shook his head. “Then why do people live here?”

Brenna stared at the silent white cottage where Janine Drummond had once lived and asked herself the same question. “It used to be a good place to raise a family.”

Chapter Five

Brenna trailed behind Agent Tarver as he entered the Riverton police station’s conference room.

He hadn’t stopped to strip his jacket, performing this function on the go as he crossed to the whiteboard.

Notes had been added to indicate the location where the first victim’s body had been discovered.

The recurring image of the frozen woman floating at the bottom of two feet of ice wouldn’t be erased from Brenna’s mind any time soon.

“Any news on Olsen?” Nick asked.

“The police haven’t been able to put a finger on him yet.” Paul sat at the computer in the corner with his back to the room, pounding away at the keys. “He’s not where he’s supposed to be and no one’s seen him.”

When Brenna entered the room, she felt the heat of Nick’s gaze following her as she circled the table and stopped in front of the whiteboard covering the east wall.

Melissa perched on the edge of the conference table, a clipboard and pencil in her hands. “We got the list of Special Agent Jensen’s convictions from Bismarck.” She dipped her head toward Brenna. “Impressive. Paul’s running a scan to see if any of them are out on parole and if so, whether or not they’re in this area.”

“I should have a cross match in the next two or three minutes,” Paul said over his shoulder without looking up.

“I’m going to get some coffee.” Nick glanced at Brenna. “Want some?”

She shook her head.

When Nick left the room, Melissa’s gaze darted from Brenna to the empty doorway. “Did you see that, Paul?”

“With my back to the room? Uh, no.” His fingers didn’t slow on the keyboard.

“The great Agent Tarver actually asked someone if they wanted coffee.”

“Is that unusual?” Brenna asked.

“For anyone else, no. For Nick, hell yeah.”

“Our man Nick is known for his dedication to the job,” Paul explained.

“Dedication, hell.” Melissa snorted. “He is the job.”

Brenna didn’t like talking about the man while he wasn’t in the room to defend himself. She feigned interest in the documents scattered across the table and, without looking up, said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Melissa stared down at the list in her hands, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “Ever since Nick’s divorce, he’s been a driven man.”

So, Nick Tarver had been married? Brenna wasn’t surprised. A man with such a wicked combination of black hair and deep green eyes couldn’t stay single long.

“For the past two years, he hasn’t stopped to consider others need food, sleep or even coffee.” Melissa tapped her pencil on the clipboard.

“Until today.” Paul looked around and stared at Brenna as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes narrowed. “Until you.”

“Think the ice is cracking on Nicky?” Melissa tilted her head to the side as her gaze wandered over Brenna.

Brenna squirmed beneath the intensity of their perusal. As if Nick Tarver had any interest in her! She was a criminal investigator, not her sister of the golden-blond-cheerleader perfection. What would he see in her?

Nothing.

“I don’t know. Might be too soon to tell.” With a shrug, Paul turned back to the monitor. “But my money’s on Special Agent Jensen.”

Melissa pushed away from the table and brushed past Brenna. “I’d keep my eye on him if I were you, sweetie. Nick can blow hot and cold in a matter of seconds.”

Melissa didn’t have to waste her breath. Brenna already knew Nick was trouble. The only difficulty would be within herself. The FBI agent would never fall for a woman like her. But any woman could fall for a guy like him.

Not Brenna. She knew better. Nick was strictly a hit-and-run kinda guy. Having survived a past hit-and-run relationship, Brenna was in no hurry to step out in front of a speeding car again.

“Got it.” Paul hit a button on the keyboard and jumped up to stand in front of a printer. “The list I’m printing is a cross reference between all of Brenna’s convictions and those parolees within a two-hundred-mile radius.”

With a long leg swinging back and forth beneath the conference table, Melissa asked, “Did you need to go out that far?”

“We’re in North Dakota, Melissa, not Virginia. People are used to driving long distances to get to little pockets of civilization out here.” The printer spit out four copies of the report. Paul kept one and laid the others on the table.

Nick entered the room, the aroma of coffee filling the air. He leaned close to Brenna and lifted a copy of Paul’s report.

The combination of the coffee and the fresh, outside scent of Nick made Brenna fidgety. She lifted her copy of the report and moved to the far corner of the room. Away from Nick. Then she forced herself to study the page in front of her.

“Most of these people live in Bismarck, Minot or Fargo,” she said.

“There’s our local, Bart Olsen.” Paul pointed near the bottom of the page.

“None of them jumps out.” Brenna tapped the list against her palm. “I’m going by Dr. Drummond’s office to see if any of these names match current or past patients.” She headed for the door, hoping Agent Tarver wouldn’t volunteer to go with her. She needed distance from the man.

Nick stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Paul, go with her.”

“Yes, sir!” Paul leaped to attention, a grin filling his face. “Come on, Jensen, I have my orders.”

As she stepped from the war room, a bit of the weight she’d felt bearing down on her lifted. At least with Nick out of the way she wouldn’t be thinking about him. He was too much of a distraction when she had a killer to nail.

“On second thought, I’ll go with her.” Nick stepped up behind Brenna and assisted her as she pushed her arms into her jacket.

Paul gave her a lopsided grin. “Maybe next time.”

AS NICK STEPPED THROUGH the door to Dr. Drummond’s office, he shrugged out of his jacket, his senses on alert. A light scent of potpourri filled the air, much better than the acrid aroma of disinfectant he expected in a doctor’s office. But then Dr. Drummond was a psychiatrist.

Brenna led the way into the doctor’s waiting room, stripping her jacket from her shoulders. “Hello, Mrs. Keckler,” she said to the woman behind the counter.

“Brenna Jensen? Is that you? Oh, my Lord, it’s so good to see you!” The older woman hopped out of her seat and came through the door to hug Brenna. “Or should I call you Agent Jensen? It’s been a long time.”

Why did Jensen know the receptionist in a psychiatrist’s office so well? Were they old family friends or was there something more to the relationship? Was Brenna a former patient?

“I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.” Brenna returned the hug and stepped back quickly, her movements jerky. “This is FBI Agent Nick Tarver.”

“Nice to meet you.” The older woman shook his hand and then turned back to Brenna. “I heard they found the doctor’s body—” Her voice cracked. She snatched a tissue from a box on the counter and dabbed at her eyes. “We’re all still in shock. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt Dr. Drummond. Who would do this?”

Smoothing a hand over the woman’s shoulders, Brenna said, “Actually, that’s why we’re here. We need to check the patient files.”

“Do you think it was one of her patients?” Mrs. Keckler twisted her hands together. “Oh my. How awful.”

“We don’t know,” Brenna said softly. “It would help to see the files.”

Mrs. Keckler sniffed and shook her head. “I can’t. What with doctor-patient confidentiality laws and all, my hands are tied.” She sank onto a nearby chair. “Just to think it might be one of her patients makes me positively ill. If it were up to me, I’d give you every last file.”

“We understand and we’re not asking you to break the law.” Nick knew how important it was to obtain evidence legally. Too many criminals walked because of sloppy investigative techniques. “What we need is for you to do a cross-check of a list of names we have with the patients in your files.”

“I can do that.” Mrs. Keckler took the list Brenna held out and ducked back into the inner office to sit at a desk with a computer.

In the ensuing silence, Jensen stood with her back to Nick.

“How well did you know Dr. Drummond?” Nick asked.

Her shoulders stiffened. “Fairly well,” she said, her words clipped, not inviting further probing.

That didn’t stop Nick. Brenna was holding something back. If it had anything to do with the case, he wanted to know. “Friend of the family?”

“Not really.”

Nick laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him, his fingers holding her upper arms in a vise grip. “I need to know everything, Agent Jensen. If you had a connection with Dr. Drummond, tell me. It could be vital to solving this case.”

She refused to look into his eyes, focusing instead on something over his shoulder. “I used to come here,” she mumbled. Then her gaze leaped to his. “I used to be one of Dr. Drummond’s patients. Okay?”

His gut tightening, Nick loosened his hold on her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It’s not something I advertise. How would it look for a criminal investigator to have a mental health history?”

“There’s nothing wrong with seeing a psychiatrist.”

She snorted. “Tell it to the reporters and the security-clearance guys who love to jump to conclusions.”

“Look, it’s just another piece of the puzzle.” He drew a deep breath and held it a moment before he blew it out. “Promise me you won’t keep anything else from me. I need to know I can trust the members of my team.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know.”

Nick waited, but the silence lengthened. “Well?”

“I don’t know anything else right now. When I do, I’ll be sure to report it to you.” She glanced down at his hands on her arms and back up to his eyes. “Now, if you don’t mind…”

Nick dropped his hands and stepped back, at the same moment Mrs. Keckler returned.

“I checked all the files and none of them matches the names on this list.” Mrs. Keckler handed the sheet of paper back to Brenna. “I’m sorry. If you have reason to suspect one of the patients, you can get a warrant and I’ll release that patient’s information, but I can’t just let you go through the files.”

“Thanks anyway, Mrs. Keckler.” Brenna hugged the woman and left the office.

Nick followed, stepping over a stream of melted snow to climb into the passenger side of the Cherokee.

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