them as she headed for the elevator. The doors dinged open and when she slipped inside, Casey immediately ditched her heels. So much better. When she reached her floor, she carried her shoes in one hand, letting them dangle and bump against her leg. She was on the top floor, one that gave her a great view of the beach. She used her key card and slipped inside. The room was dark and ice-cold because she’d left the air-conditioning unit on earlier that day.
Casey turned on the light by the door. The maid had been in to clean—the room was spotless. Her pillows were all fluffed. New towels were waiting and the room had a fresh, lemony scent. She dropped her shoes and headed for the balcony door. She flipped the lock on it and slipped outside. The crash of the waves hit her first. The sound, then the scent. Stars glittered in the distance and she could see a handful of people walking on the beach.
She stood there a moment, lost in the sight. It didn’t seem right for something so beautiful to be linked to so much death. But if she’d learned anything in life...it was that beauty often hid darkness. A smile hid terror. Pain always waited. So did evil.
She turned from the view and reached for the balcony door. But...
Hadn’t she turned on the light in her room? Because the interior was pitch-black. She could see the darkness through the glass.
I turned it on when I walked inside. I always do that.
At least, she thought she had. But maybe there was a short or some kind of electrical problem. She’d have to call the front desk if there was trouble.
She opened the door and slipped inside. A little light spilled in from behind her, providing enough illumination for her to make her way to the small table near the bed. There was a lamp waiting there. She’d turn it on and then—
Hard hands wrapped around her from behind just as a bitter, thick odor hit her. “Got you.”
She opened her mouth to scream, but her attacker drove her forward, slamming her head into the wall just above the lamp. The impact was hard and she staggered. Casey didn’t get to scream. She didn’t even get to fight.
He rammed her head into the wall a second time.
Just like before...
No!
Her body was going limp. She was passing out.
His rough laughter was the last sound she heard.
He drove for miles, just riding the motorcycle and letting the wind brush across his face. In his head, he kept reliving the day’s dive. Sinking deep beneath the water, searching even as he hoped that he wouldn’t find the body. He’d hoped that the victim was still alive. That she still had a chance.
Then he’d seen her hair. That was the way it often was on those dives. If he was searching for a woman, her hair would float up from her head. It would drift in the water around her, as if it were trying to reach out for the surface.
He’d seen Tonya’s hair, then he’d seen her face. Not the pretty face from her picture—chalk white, bloated.
Dead.
He turned off his engine and sat near the edge of the beach, almost surprised to find himself so close to Casey’s hotel. He hadn’t meant to come back there, had he?
Casey Quinn.
He’d seen her news stories before, most folks had. She didn’t work for some local channel—Casey was the big time. Prime-time TV on a major network. When he’d done some digging on her, he’d realized her pieces were always dark, focusing on the worst criminals out there. Not scare pieces, though, but reports that showed the broken lives that had been left in a monster’s wake.
He knew she’d come down to Hope to cover Theodore Anderson’s case—the sick freak had enjoyed kidnapping girls. Kidnapping them and killing them. He’d even killed his own daughter. Casey and the other reporters had been trying to interview both Theodore Anderson and the guy’s son, Kurt. But Kurt hadn’t talked to any reporters. Not yet. Josh was a bit surprised that Casey’s charm hadn’t worked on the guy. Her smile—yeah, he could see where she’d be able to get men to talk to her. That slow smile was pure sex appeal, and it did something to her eyes—made those dark chocolate eyes gleam. No wonder young Finn had overshared, but the deputy knew better now. Josh and Hayden had made certain the kid knew better.
He turned away from the beach and glanced up at her hotel. He’d touched her cheek and her skin had been like silk beneath his hand. She’d stood there, in those incredibly sexy heels, her skin a warm gold next to the white of her shirt, and that dark hair of hers had skimmed over her shoulders. She was small, built along delicate lines, but sure curved in every perfect place. When she’d been behind him on the bike—
Stop lusting, turn on the motorcycle and get out of here.
He wasn’t going to cross any lines with the reporter. A sexy face and body weren’t going to make him forget his job. He wasn’t young Finn.
He rolled back his shoulders.
Get out of here.
But he couldn’t help glancing at the hotel just one more time.
* * *
SHE HURT.
Casey groaned as she cracked open one eyelid. Her whole body ached and she was lying on something rough and hard. The hotel bed was normally soft, like falling into a cloud after a long day of work, but this—
I’m not at the hotel.
Both of her eyes flew open. She stared around, horrified. She wasn’t in her hotel. She was... Where in the hell was she? She tried to move her body and realized that her hands and feet were tied. Her hands were behind her back and she could feel what felt like rough hemp rope cutting into her wrists. She twisted and her body slid over...over plastic?
Yes, she was on a big sheet of plastic. The smell of fresh wood filled the air, and her frantic glance took in the room around her. She was in a home...of some sort. One that appeared to be under construction. No Sheetrock was up on the walls yet. She could see the wooden framework all around her.
And I’m on plastic. Oh, God. Because she knew why an abductor would put his prey on plastic. So there won’t be a mess left behind when he’s done with me.
She wiggled and twisted and finally managed to sit up. When she did, she realized that light was pouring in through one of the windows to the right. Light, and she could also hear the thunder of waves. I’m on the beach. In a house under construction. A house or some kind of condo complex or...
No, it’s a beach house. Because she remembered seeing about four houses that had been under construction on the west end of the beach. They’d been big, massive structures up on wooden stilts that screamed high-end real estate. But, if the place was under construction, where were the construction workers? Where was the crew? Where was someone who could—“Help!” Casey called out. Her voice was oddly weak, so she tried again, screaming, “Help!” with all of her strength.
She fought to remember what had happened to her. She’d been in her hotel room and then...someone had been there. He’d grabbed her. Rammed her
