Jack Sullivan thought she was in league with a serial killer. And, stupidly, to convince him she was innocent, she had blurted out her darkest secret. Oh God. She would have done anything to undo that, to erase her words.Soon everyone would know that something was seriously wrong with her. And then she would never get her daughter back. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, dizzy with the anxiety and anger that gripped her.She had to make Sullivan believe her, accept that she had nothing to do with the killer he was looking for. He seemed dead set on pinning a slew of murders on her. Or accessory to murder. Nausea bubbled in her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second.To think that she’d been scared of Bing. For Bing, the case was a job. For Sullivan, it was personal. He was aggressive and crass and relentless and—“Have you tried to find any of the others?” He glanced back at the pictures, then at her again, his face hard, his eyes narrowed. He had a look of emptin

“Your stubbornness brought you back. The same thing that’s keeping you from being home and recovering like you should be. You need to take better care of yourself, Jack. Gain some weight back.”“That’s exactly where the cookies come in,” he said, straight-faced. She was laughing as he walked out the door.In less than half an hour, he was in the woods off Spring Road, walking up to Bing.The captain’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” “Was driving by, saw the commotion.”“And I’m a woodland fairy. You know what sick leave means? You stay home and heal.”“You sound like Leila. So what do we have?”“A hiker called the place in.” Bing shrugged, then called out, “Anything back there, Mike?”“Locked up tight.” Mike, the other rookie who’d joined the team the previous year with Joe, came around the cabin, a round Irish kid, red hair sticking up all over, eyes green as shamrocks, and a grin that betrayed he hadn’t spent too much time on the force yet. He’d barely seen anything.“Who

Ashley looked at the small chunk of cheese and wilted celery in her nearly empty refrigerator. She was going to have to brave the grocery store tonight. She needed bread and milk, cold cuts, some microwave dinners for herself when Maddie wasn’t here, and the makings for a healthy, homemade meal for her daughter tomorrow.Her father and Maddie were coming, finally. Which meant she couldn’t put off the shopping trip any longer. As much as she dreaded the store, the thrill of seeing her daughter again gave her strength to do it. Their way-too-brief visits were the only thing that kept her going.She closed the fridge door, then tidied up the old-fashioned tile countertop a little. Not that her small kitchen was messy. She’d already mopped the ancient glazed-brick floor. Once she filled the fridge and her plain oak cabinets, she’d be ready for visitors.She’d go shopping after midnight; by then the store was usually deserted. She wasn’t looking forward to sleep anyway. The night before, s

After a night that started pretty roughly, then continued with her tossing and turning, worrying about what Jack Sullivan would do with her paintings, Saturday morning came too early. Ashley lay in bed, the bedroom dim in the gray winter morning light.She looked at her cell phone on the nightstand, dread and disappointment filling her little by little. She had to call her father and Maddie, let them know she couldn’t come today.Detective Sullivan had ordered her to stick around. On any other day, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But today was the day she was supposed to show her father that she was making progress.She wanted to get into her car and try, even if her throat would close up when she reached I-95. Even if she would be gasping for air and swimming in cold sweat. Even if she had to pull over. Even if it took her all morning to make the two-hour drive.She needed to face her fears. She couldn’t give up, or she’d never have Maddie back.She sat up in bed. She would not give

And if Agent Hunter won…He wouldn’t. She was going to beat the FBI, beat Jack Sullivan, return her life to normal, and get her daughter back. She wasn’t going to lose Maddie over this. Whatever she had to do—“I would like to call my attorney,” she said, although she was no longer sure that would be enough.But the possible solution that suddenly burst into her head scared her as much as the false accusations, maybe more. Her entire body went cold. She considered the idea anyway.What if she didn’t resist her visions?What if she embraced them? Would she see more? Would she see how Sullivan had come to be in the grave? Would she see Blackwell? Could she lead the authorities to him to end this nightmare?Did she dare willingly walk into the abyss? And what if she did and couldn’t find her way back? Would she end up like her mother and lose everything?She needed to think this over, needed to get out of here. “I want to call my lawyer,” she repeated.The agent closed his notebook and r