She took a quick inventory. “Yes, I feel nearly normal.”

“We’ll find out what happened,” he promised. “To you and to that cabin. We’ll get the police up here and check out the odor.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I can’t promise tomorrow, but soon.”

“Thank you for helping us.” She hadn’t questioned his intentions. At all. If he was a crazy recluse who’d convinced her and Violet that he was helping them when he was actually waiting to kill them in their sleep, she’d walked right into his trap. He didn’t give off a crazy vibe. When she was with him she felt a quiet strength and determination. He didn’t flaunt anything. It would be easy to let her gaze bounce over him in a crowd, but when he was alone in a room, a low hum of energy surrounded him.

He nodded. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Images of victims on her table floated through her mind. “I’m not so sure of that. There’re a lot of evil people in the world and others who simply don’t care. Fate could have chosen someone else to live in this cabin.”

“Do you believe in fate?” he abruptly asked.

She blushed, thankful the lighting in the room was poor. “Not specifically,” she lied. She had a firm belief that everything happened for a reason, but didn’t care to discuss it with other people. The belief belonged to her, one she held close to her heart. It wasn’t a doctrine to share and debate with strangers. Or even her closest friends. To her, fate was made of iridescent colors and fresh air and warm breezes. It was something beautiful she clung to when life grew dark.

Fate had rescued her in the past.

“Things are placed in our paths for a reason,” Chris said slowly. “I almost didn’t come up here this week. I had some projects around the house I wanted to do while Brian was gone, but one morning I woke up and knew I should go to the cabin instead. I wasn’t sure why. Nothing up here needed attention, but I didn’t question my decision.”

Fate rescued me again?

She forced a smile as a chill touched her skin. “You think you were meant to be here to get Violet and me out?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t see his eyes, but knew he was looking directly at her. “I can believe that.” She believed it 100 percent.

Someone looks out for me.

Flashbacks of another cold night, a long walk, and someone who’d helped her when she was ready to collapse sprung from a dark area of her mind.

You can make it.

Cold feet. Cold fingers. So tired.

Anxiety ripped through her, and she shut down the memories.

Chris had talked more in the last twenty-four hours than in the previous month.

At home Brian talked enough for the both of them. When Chris was a boy, he’d had the same habit.

Before.

Would he still be a talker if he hadn’t spent two years with the Ghostman? Before he’d been kidnapped, he’d wanted to be a politician like his father, and boasted he’d be president one day. He’d been confident and self-assured, brimming with the brashness of youth.

Now the thought of being in the public’s eye made him want to vomit. He’d learned to keep his thoughts to himself and silently observe. Don’t rock the boat, but always be present. Be ready, flexible, and quietly alive. Stay in the background. Don’t be prey. Retain the posture of the predator. Act when necessary.

Survival skills.

He rarely stepped outside his comfort zone. He did so only when the needs of his family dictated the action. He would kill to protect his family. Brian, Michael, and Jamie. He’d been forced to prove it.

Now he’d extended his circle of protection to Gianna and Violet.

Anyone would have done the same.

Gianna hadn’t agreed that anyone else would have helped them, and he knew she was right. Chris didn’t consider himself anything special, but only an asshole would have left the women behind. And one could have crossed their path. The world was a dangerous place. A person didn’t need to travel to the Middle East to find danger. It was present in every American’s backyard and looked perfectly normal at first glance. Even at second glance. The evil being who had stolen his life and murdered children had smoothly interacted with society for years.

During that time Chris had hidden, terrified the Ghostman would find him again. He’d moved on in his life, keeping a low profile and constantly looking over his shoulder. When Brian came, Chris kept him in seclusion to protect him from all predators.

His greatest fear was that he’d learn he’d placed his son in danger’s path by letting him move about in public. He had frequent nightmares about Brian’s being in the hands of a killer or snatched off a public street.

He shuddered.

Gianna finished her water. “I’m going back to bed.” She paused. “You should get some sleep.”

“I will.”

She didn’t move, and he felt her disbelief. She opened her mouth and closed it, changing her mind about speaking. Knowing what his sister would have said, Chris guessed she was about to argue with him. Instead she looked toward the drawn curtains. “It’s very dark outside. And too quiet. I struggled to sleep in the cabin because of the silence. I’m used to some sort of noise.”

He understood.

She continued, “When it’s this still, I find myself listening hard for a sound. Any sound. I think it makes my brain work harder and keeps me awake. Then my mind is off and running through a million different things.”