In a Heartbeat. Rita Herron

the habit in times of stress. Not that their job wasn’t always stressful. “I know you don’t like it, and neither do I, but we have to do everything we can to save this girl.”

      As if Brad didn’t know that.

      But bringing Lisa out of hiding to do so didn’t seem like the smartest idea. Besides, he wasn’t sure she could help.

      Or maybe he was losing his edge again. His perspective.

      Because Brad Booker, man with no mercy, had found a heart when he’d heard Lisa’s tale of horrors. And when he’d pulled her from that grave and held her, he’d felt a personal connection.

      He couldn’t afford to have a heart. Not with Mindy’s life on the line.

      “You’re right.” He loosened his tie, cleared this throat, swallowed back bile. “I won’t tell Lisa on the phone. I have to see her in person.” He owed her that much.

      Ethan nodded. “Keep in touch. I’ll call you after I talk to White’s cell mate.”

      Brad pocketed his cell phone. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was track down Lisa and inform her that another Grave Digger was haunting the city, or make her relive the nightmare of her attack.

      But he had to save Mindy’s life. And if Lisa remembered anything new that might help, he needed to talk to her.

      LISA MUST HAVE IMAGINED the shadow. Still, she couldn’t fall back to sleep, so she sat in the rocking chair for hours, staring at the window.

      Early morning, the shadow reappeared. Footsteps clattered outside.

      Lisa reached for the phone to dial 911 when a knock sounded at the door. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

      For a few seconds, she could barely move, the fear she’d grappled with for the past four years paralyzing her. Then sanity returned, and she dragged in huge gulping breaths, trying to calm herself. A serial killer wouldn’t announce himself at the door.

      Only hers had four years ago. She’d actually been dating him and hadn’t known it….

      Besides, how had the window gotten open? And why had she lost power when it hadn’t been storming?

      The knock jolted her again, and she raced to her bedroom, yanked on a full-length cotton robe and belted it, then pushed her disheveled hair from her face as she hurried to the door.

      She rarely had visitors. Mrs. Simmerson from across the valley occasionally stopped by with homemade goods, and occasionally Ruby dropped by for a visit, but never this early in the morning. Someone had rented the cabin about a half mile down the road, but she hadn’t met him yet. She didn’t intend to, either.

      “Miss Long, it’s your new neighbor. Name’s Aiden Henderson.”

      She tensed at the sound of the man’s voice. It was deep. Scratchy. A smoker’s voice. “What do you want and how do you know my name?”

      “The real estate agent told me.” He cleared his throat. “I…the power went off, so I thought I’d check and see if it was just my place or everyone else’s.”

      He could see hers was off, too, couldn’t he?

      “My phone isn’t connected yet,” he continued. “Or else I’d call it in.”

      She stood on tiptoe and looked through the peephole. The entire mountain and valley were dark. “I’ll call in the power loss. Someone probably had an accident and hit a transformer.”

      “Probably.” A tense second followed but he didn’t leave. A sliver of early morning sunlight illuminated him enough for her to see what he looked like. He had light brown, wavy hair, was probably in his late thirties and wore jeans and a black T-shirt with boots. A scar marred his lower arm, making her wonder if he’d been in an accident. He was big, too, almost six feet, at least two hundred and thirty pounds.

      William had been shorter and a mere one-eighty, but he’d crushed her like a matchstick doll.

      And something about this man seemed familiar. But she couldn’t think where she might have met him. Then it hit her. “I saw you in town, didn’t I?”

      “I think so. At least I recognize your car,” Aiden replied. “But you looked like you were in a hurry so I didn’t introduce myself.”

      She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Had he been following her?

      “I received some of your mail in my box yesterday.” He indicated a couple of envelopes with a beefy hand, and she froze, wondering if it was a trick to lure her to let him inside.

      “You can just slide them beneath the door.”

      He fidgeted, then stooped and did as she’d requested.

      “Thanks.”

      “And here’s your paper.”

      “Just leave it on the porch.”

      He stuffed wide hands into his jean pockets. “You don’t happen to have any coffee brewed, do you? I forgot to buy some when I went to the store.”

      So he’d been grocery shopping. “No. Listen, I really need to go. I’m late for work.”

      “Oh.” Disappointment laced his voice, and he peered toward the window. Then a smile tilted his mouth. “Well, if you need anything, I’m right down the road. Since we’re neighbors, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

      She doubted it. “All right, thanks.”

      “I put my number on one of the envelopes.” He shrugged, a frown pulling at his lips. “Listen, the newspaper mentioned that a woman had been murdered in Atlanta and another one abducted. You being single, living alone, you ought to be careful. We’re not that far from the city.”

      Lisa froze, her nails digging into the wooden door. How did he know she was single?

      A breeze fluttered the trees, rattling the windowpane, and she shivered, grateful when he finally ducked his head and loped down the porch steps. She slid to the window and watched as he disappeared down the dirt road. But his words rushed back to haunt her.

      A woman had been murdered in Atlanta. Another woman was missing.

      A wave of pure panic overcame her, making her body tremble.

      William White is dead. You’re safe.

      But curiosity won out, and she jerked open the door and grabbed the paper. The headlines startled her into shock: The Grave Digger Returns!

      Her chest in a spasm, Lisa staggered to the couch, sank onto the fabric and dropped her head between her knees to keep from passing out. No, William was dead. Brad had told her so himself.

      It was impossible that he was back.

      Her stomach rolled as she lifted her head and skimmed the article. A copycat. He’d killed one woman so far. But the MO was the same. He’d buried the woman alive. And he’d taken a second victim already. Special Agent Brad Booker was working the case.

      Her sense of peace shattered. She clutched her throat, the suffocating feeling returning.

      Brad Booker’s face materialized in her mind. Handsome, sharp, chiseled features framed a visage that revealed no emotion. He had an almost stoic smile. And cold, whiskey-colored eyes that remained detached most of the time.

      He had dragged her from that dark grave with his bare hands. Had been kind to her during the trial. A Rock of Gibraltar.

      Yet he’d kept his distance since.

      Because he had seen the woman William White had turned her into. Had known what a fool she was for not realizing the truth sooner.

      Humiliation flushed her face as she remembered waking in the ambulance, naked and dirty, then looking into Brad’s anxious eyes and seeing the horror of what had happened to her mirrored back.