The Inquisitor. Gayle Wilson

can’t let yourself be held hostage to the morons of the world. If you do, then they win. You said nothing wrong, Jenna. Believe me, nobody here thinks so.”

      That at least sounded genuine. It didn’t explain the writing on her car, but it did make her feel marginally better about who might have put it there.

      “You want me to follow you home?” Gary asked.

      “I appreciate the offer, but I have a couple of things to pick up on the way. I’ll be fine. Really.”

      “Everybody’s feeling the pressure. I honestly don’t mind following you, even on your round of errands. We could stop and grab a bite to eat. Or get a head start on that drink you mentioned.”

      She was a little surprised by the offer. Although Gary had been a member of the practice for well over a year, she’d gotten no vibes that he found her attractive.

      Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was being kind because it was obvious she’d been upset by the message. She was reading more into the gesture than it warranted.

      “That’s really very sweet, but…maybe I can get a rain check. Some night when we haven’t both been working late.”

      “You got it.”

      Jenna couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. As he made the agreement, he’d stepped forward, reaching for the door handle of the Honda.

      She realized that she hadn’t punched the remote. The accompanying beep when she did echoed through the nearly empty deck, just as her footsteps had.

      Gary opened her door, and she slipped into the seat, using the excuse of fastening her seat belt to delay looking up at him. When she did, he was peering down into the car, his lips slightly pursed.

      “Lock your doors.”

      “You think—”

      “I think I’d tell any woman in this city the same thing right now. Better safe than sorry.”

      Unsure how to respond, she nodded. “I will.”

      “Be careful,” he added, closing the door. He put the tips of the fingers of his right hand against the glass for a moment before he straightened, allowing her room to back out.

      She inserted the key and started the engine. Then she looked out through the window to smile at him again. Before she put the car into Reverse, she lifted her hand and waved.

      He didn’t return the gesture, but he stood watching as she headed toward the exit. When she looked back, just before she began the descent to the lower level, he was still standing in the same spot. And he was still watching her.

      Six

      Sean came awake with a start, neck muscles straining as his head jerked up off the pillow. His breath rasped in and out of his lungs as if he’d run a race.

      He had. One he’d lost a long time ago. One at which he would never get a second chance.

      Not unless you counted this.

      He stretched his eyes wide in an attempt to wipe away the last of the dream. The motel-beige walls and plastic-backed floral draperies, which he had pulled across the window in order to sleep, helped to orient him.

      He remembered where he was. And he knew why he was here.

      The nightmare he’d just had was the same one he’d experienced over and over in the years since Makaela’s disappearance. Although he was painfully aware of how his sister had died, the dream never played out to that end. He always awoke before it could, his body drenched in sweat and his heart beating as if it would tear its way out of his chest. Today had been no different.

      He closed his eyes again, waiting for the pump of blood to slow. He hadn’t experienced the terror of the dream in a long time, but he knew he shouldn’t be surprised it had happened now.

      He was closer to Makaela’s murderer than he’d ever been before. He knew that with a certainty for which he could offer no rational explanation. He simply knew it.

      Just as he had known outside Jenna Kincaid’s office two nights ago that the man he sought was also there. So near he could feel his evil. Could sense it in the air around him.

      This was a smaller city than the ones the killer had chosen before. A limited population spread over a relatively contained geographic area, bound by the narrow valley that ran between the two mountain ridges in which the original settlement had been made.

      Not only was the hunting ground here more contained, thanks to the friend Sean had made on the FBI task force, he’d gotten in on this spurt of homicides early. While the bastard was feeling invincible. Maybe this time…

      Feeling his expectations rise to a level experience had taught him was premature, Sean released a slow breath, deliberately focusing on his plans for today. One step at a time. He had learned long ago that was the best way to keep the images from the dream, as well as those that represented the fulfillment of his quest, out of his consciousness.

      After a moment, he held his wrist up so that despite the artificially darkened room, he could see the hands of his watch. It was 3:30 p.m. Which meant he would have time to shower and shave and maybe get something to eat before Jenna Kincaid left the office.

      It would all get easier once he’d completed his move into the vacant unit in the building below hers, which might take place as early as tomorrow. The apartment he’d chosen wasn’t directly across from hers, but it did have a view of both the front entrance and the expanse of glass in Jenna’s living room.

      He could only imagine how she would react when she discovered he was there. As much as he’d like to, there was probably no way to prevent her from finding out, which would almost certainly mean a confrontation with the local cops.

      He wasn’t overly concerned about that. He had his own resources within the law enforcement community, people who would be willing to speak to the locals on his behalf.

      And he wasn’t breaking any laws. Not by moving into an empty apartment. Nor would he be by sitting outside in the parking lot.

      From now on, he was going to keep a very low profile. The only way he had any chance of finding the man he’d come here to kill was to fade into the background of Jenna Kincaid’s world, so that when the real stalking began, the man he was hunting would never know that he, too, was being stalked.

      “Hey, sport. Whatcha doing?”

      “Watching Wiggles,” Ryan said.

      His nephew’s voice was so soft Sean had to strain to hear the words. If he hadn’t already known the probable answer, he wouldn’t have been able to decipher it.

      Sean had long ago learned to keep his feelings about the boy’s choice of TV shows and books to himself. The kid didn’t need criticism, not of any kind. Especially not from him.

      His day-care teachers all praised Ryan’s sweet nature and gentle disposition, assuring Sean that his nephew would eventually grow out of his shyness. Of course, none of them knew the kids’ backgrounds. He had figured that the fewer people who knew about Makaela’s murder, the better.

      “You have a good day at school?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “Not much longer now,” Sean said, allowing his voice to rise teasingly at the end.

      “Till Christmas?”

      “That’s right. You getting excited?”

      “Are you coming home?”

      Sean swallowed the lump that hopeful question created. He knew he was their security blanket. Knew and accepted that that was his role. They were his family. And he was theirs. Literally all they had.

      The problem was that he had also undertaken another role. One he took just as seriously.