his life for a relationship right now, especially with Amanda.
Even if he didn’t have the case to worry about, Amanda had been horribly brutalized, both physically and emotionally. She wasn’t ready for a relationship either, as evidenced from their discussion earlier tonight. The best thing for her right now was for him to respect her wishes, treat her professionally, and find the killer who’d nearly destroyed her four years ago.
He shuffled through the pages in the current file, pages he’d already read dozens of times today without seeing anything new. What he’d really like to have is the Anna Northwood file to look through. Looking through the case he’d screwed up ten years ago would give his mind a break, free his subconscious to work on the details of Amanda’s case to look for a pattern.
Unfortunately, his search for the file earlier today in the department’s online database had yielded only one line that read “archived to off-site storage.” The file was too old, had never been keyed into the online system. He’d have to pay a visit to the storage warehouse sometime soon and find that file, but for tonight, he’d just have to review the Branson case again.
He sighed and flipped another page.
K ate was back.
He could barely believe it, even though he knew it was true.
She’d never come back that soon before. Damn it . Why wouldn’t she leave him alone? He’d found peace, blessed peace, and he’d hoped it would last this time.
She’d called herself Carolyn earlier, and she’d been so perfect, so sweet, that he’d believed maybe, just maybe, she’d finally go away for good this time like she’d promised. He’d foolishly hoped she might finally let him live his life without fear, without worrying she’d find him again.
He should have known he couldn’t trust her. Kate always lied.
And this time, like once before, she called herself Amanda.
Chapter Five
G uilt was a powerful motivator. Amanda fought its relentless pull for two days, but it was a losing battle. Wednesday afternoon she sat in her car, parked outside the building shared by city hall and the police department, trying to work up the courage to open the door and go inside.
She didn’t want to dredge up her past and endure another round of police interviews. The ugliness of what had happened to her stared back at her every day when she looked in the mirror. The killer had left his mark on her in so many ways, ensuring she could never forget, never truly escape. And she’d already told the police everything—or, at least, everything relevant to their investigation.
But what if Logan Richards was right and she knew something she didn’t even realize she knew, something that would help them stop the killer before he hurt anyone else? Dana had died because of Amanda’s cowardice. Could she really live with another person’s death on her conscience?
She already knew that answer. Since Logan’s visit, the nightmares had returned: vivid images of the inside of the cabin, the wink of light against the killer’s jagged blade, Dana’s cries of terror when Amanda ran from the cabin, leaving her behind.
Amanda shivered and rubbed her arms, her chill having nothing to do with the cool air blasting from the car’s air-conditioner. She fervently hoped if she answered Logan’s questions, the nightmares would go away again. She could return to her sanctuary, live her quiet life, and go back to trying to pretend the past had never happened.
She grabbed her purse, got out of her car, and hurried up the steps into the building before she could change her mind. The crush of people in the first floor lobby had her pulling her hair forward to hide her scar. She kept her eyes downcast, hoping no one would try to talk to her, and pressed the button for the elevator.
A few moments later a low beep signaled the elevator’s arrival. She rushed inside, relieved when no one joined her. As the doors closed, she punched the
Even if he didn’t have the case to worry about, Amanda had been horribly brutalized, both physically and emotionally. She wasn’t ready for a relationship either, as evidenced from their discussion earlier tonight. The best thing for her right now was for him to respect her wishes, treat her professionally, and find the killer who’d nearly destroyed her four years ago.
He shuffled through the pages in the current file, pages he’d already read dozens of times today without seeing anything new. What he’d really like to have is the Anna Northwood file to look through. Looking through the case he’d screwed up ten years ago would give his mind a break, free his subconscious to work on the details of Amanda’s case to look for a pattern.
Unfortunately, his search for the file earlier today in the department’s online database had yielded only one line that read “archived to off-site storage.” The file was too old, had never been keyed into the online system. He’d have to pay a visit to the storage warehouse sometime soon and find that file, but for tonight, he’d just have to review the Branson case again.
He sighed and flipped another page.
K ate was back.
He could barely believe it, even though he knew it was true.
She’d never come back that soon before. Damn it . Why wouldn’t she leave him alone? He’d found peace, blessed peace, and he’d hoped it would last this time.
She’d called herself Carolyn earlier, and she’d been so perfect, so sweet, that he’d believed maybe, just maybe, she’d finally go away for good this time like she’d promised. He’d foolishly hoped she might finally let him live his life without fear, without worrying she’d find him again.
He should have known he couldn’t trust her. Kate always lied.
And this time, like once before, she called herself Amanda.
Chapter Five
G uilt was a powerful motivator. Amanda fought its relentless pull for two days, but it was a losing battle. Wednesday afternoon she sat in her car, parked outside the building shared by city hall and the police department, trying to work up the courage to open the door and go inside.
She didn’t want to dredge up her past and endure another round of police interviews. The ugliness of what had happened to her stared back at her every day when she looked in the mirror. The killer had left his mark on her in so many ways, ensuring she could never forget, never truly escape. And she’d already told the police everything—or, at least, everything relevant to their investigation.
But what if Logan Richards was right and she knew something she didn’t even realize she knew, something that would help them stop the killer before he hurt anyone else? Dana had died because of Amanda’s cowardice. Could she really live with another person’s death on her conscience?
She already knew that answer. Since Logan’s visit, the nightmares had returned: vivid images of the inside of the cabin, the wink of light against the killer’s jagged blade, Dana’s cries of terror when Amanda ran from the cabin, leaving her behind.
Amanda shivered and rubbed her arms, her chill having nothing to do with the cool air blasting from the car’s air-conditioner. She fervently hoped if she answered Logan’s questions, the nightmares would go away again. She could return to her sanctuary, live her quiet life, and go back to trying to pretend the past had never happened.
She grabbed her purse, got out of her car, and hurried up the steps into the building before she could change her mind. The crush of people in the first floor lobby had her pulling her hair forward to hide her scar. She kept her eyes downcast, hoping no one would try to talk to her, and pressed the button for the elevator.
A few moments later a low beep signaled the elevator’s arrival. She rushed inside, relieved when no one joined her. As the doors closed, she punched the
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