The newscasters had called Eastwind already. She just knew it. Who else could they go to?

“Lydia?”

“I don’t know where I’m going,” she mumbled.

“Then just keep driving.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because that’s all you need to do. Don’t hit anything and just let yourself go.”

She blinked. Blinked again.

When something hit her windshield, she jumped. It was just rain, though, a dappling of fat drops that landed like miniature fists on the glass.

“It’s raining,” she said into the phone that was still on speaker.

Lydia had some thought that she was scared to end the call, as if their connection over the phone was what was keeping him safe, keeping him alive. Keeping her the same.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered as she started the wipers.

“You’re just driving right now, Lydia. That’s all you need to think about. You’ve got to give that adrenaline a chance to work its way out of you before you make any sense.”

“Peter is dead.”

There was another pause, with nothing but Daniel’s footfalls coming through the connection. “Yeah, he probably is.”

“Do you think that man in the uniform did it?”

“I don’t know. Can you tell me why anyone would want to hurt your boss?”

Lydia thought about those papers that had been burned up in the fireplace. “No, but I’m going to find out.”

 

As Daniel jogged along through the trees, he kept the phone up to his ear. On the other end, he could hear the whirring of Lydia’s car and what he thought was the slap of windshield wipers.

Right on schedule, he thought as he glanced up to the rain.

The oaks and maples were all bare-limbed, providing no cover, and pines had never made good umbrellas. This was all good news for him.

“Lydia?” he said as he slowed to a walk.

“Hmm?”

Glancing behind himself, he got a whole lot of coast-was-clear. With any luck, that would last—because backup for that now-dead boy-in-black would be a problem.

“What did they do to you?” he asked. “What happened.”

He wasn’t surprised that Lydia took her time answering. And then she shocked him by telling him what he knew in his gut was the truth.

“Someone came and looked in all my windows Saturday night. That was when they must have put that tracker under my car. And then … they took a picture of me as I was standing outside of the house, just after I’d noticed the footprints and was checking them out.”

Fuck.

“Who do you think it was?” he asked.

“The hotel. It all happened after I called the media.”

“Is there anything you haven’t told me, Lydia?”

“No, that’s it. I swear on my grandfather.”

Daniel stopped. Turned around. Waited. He trusted his instincts in the woods more than anything, but he was distracted—and that was how you got yourself killed. Which that guard had learned the rigor mortis way.

“Do you have a lawn?” he said as he refocused and kept walking.

“A lawn—you mean at my house? Yes.”

“Is it pretty big? Like what we saw at your executive director’s?”

“I guess. Why are you—”

“You mind if I put my tent on the far corner of your property? I don’t have the money to stay at that Pine Lodge place for very long, and I promise I won’t go inside your house unless you ask me in or need me. But that way, I have a place to crash and you’re not alone—and there’s a shower in the groundskeeping building so no, I don’t need to borrow your bathroom.”

In response, there was only whirring coming across the connection. And that thumping slap.

“Why would you do that?” she said with exhaustion.

“I need a place to crash.”

“You weren’t going to stay at Pine Lodge, were you. You were just going to tent up on the mountain.”

“Camping outdoors is a drifter’s paradise.” He checked over his shoulder once again. “And whether that’s on an elevation or a flat lawn, it works both ways.”

“There are wolves all around this area.”

“And here I thought the W in WSP stood for worms. And hey, I would be safer in your yard, right?” He gave her time to reply. “Lydia, I know you don’t know me, but lock me out. Turn every dead bolt in the place. You’ll be safe in your house, and if someone else comes and walks around—I can hold them down while you call for help. Something I’ve already proven I can do.”

There was a long pause. “I’m scared.”

“I know you are. So let me help—and no one needs to know. It would just be between you and me.”

“I have to go,” she said remotely. “I’m calling the sheriff now.”

“Good. Let’s take the law back to that guard. He wasn’t going anywhere fast when I left him where I dropped him.”

“I want to come pick you up.”

“I can see the road through the trees from where I am. I’ll be walking on the shoulder.”

He ended the call and put the phone away. By now, the rain was falling steadily, and if he was lucky, any blood would be gone by the time they got back. If not?

Well, there were wolves in those woods, weren’t there.

AS LYDIA HEADED back toward town, she called Eastwind’s number—and wasn’t surprised that she got voice mail. Immediately redialing, she hoped she’d see Daniel Joseph walking along the shoulder—and when her second call wasn’t answered, she cursed. A third try had her passing by Peter Wynne’s and the lane that had taken them to the deer stand—thank God!

There Daniel was, a powerful figure striding along the opposite side of the country road with his back to her. Just as she was checking to go across to get him, the sheriff answered his cell phone.

“Eastwind.”

She let out a breath that she was unaware of holding. “Sheriff … this is Lydia from the WSP. I need your help. I have to see you—”

“I’m out on a call right now, but I can—”

“You’re at Peter Wynne’s. I know.”

The sheriff’s voice dropped in volume. “As a matter of fact I am.”

Hitting the directional signal, Lydia cut over the outgoing lane and pulled in front of Daniel’s path. As he approached, her eyes obsessively inspected him in the rear view mirror—but there were no arterial wounds that she could see. No limping, either. No contusions on his handsome face.

“I need to talk to you,” she said to Eastwind. “Right now.”

“I can come to you when I’m finished here—”

“No, it has to be right now. Farlan’s Lane. Meet me about a quarter mile in from the entrance. I have something … you need to see. Delegate what you’re doing to Anthony or Phil. I need you now.”

Daniel tried to open the door. When it was locked, she fumbled with switches and buttons like she’d never been in the hatchback before.

“All right,” the sheriff said. “I’ll see you there in five minutes. But I don’t have a lot of time.”