was a revelation, and now that Rebecca knew what it felt like to be held by Quinn, she was going to have a hard time not thinking about it. She knew she was taking a risk, setting off on a remote hike with a man who was somehow tied to these murders. But there was no better way to test him than to take him back to the scene of the crime. His reaction, or lack thereof, would tell her everything she needed to know.
“Let’s go,” he said, apparently sensing her need to change the subject. “Do you need to pick up anything from your room before we set out? A camera or anything like that?”
Rebecca shook her head. “I’ve got my phone if I need to take pictures. I mostly just want to get a feel for the place, if that makes any sense.”
He nodded. “It does,” he said shortly. He sounded apprehensive, and she figured he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the site. It was a normal reaction for a civilian to have, but she forced herself to consider another possibility: did Quinn want to avoid the area because he was afraid his reaction might give something away? She believed he wasn’t the killer, but she still wasn’t convinced he didn’t know the murderer somehow. And if the two men were working together to choose victims, or even stage the bodies, it was possible Quinn’s excitement would bleed through his innocent facade and give him away.
Rebecca glanced down, making sure her ankle holster was sufficiently hidden by the flare of her pant leg. As far as she knew, Quinn had no idea she was armed. She intended to keep it that way.
“After you,” she said.
* * *
He let her set the pace, shortening his stride so he didn’t push her to go too fast. It was clear Rebecca wasn’t an experienced hiker, but she was in good shape, which worked to her advantage. They made decent time, despite the increasingly rugged terrain.
Seeing Rebecca wearing Ashley’s gear had thrown him more than he cared to admit. It shouldn’t have—it was just a backpack, for crying out loud. But seeing the familiar green bag bobbing ahead of him on the trail made it far too easy to remember all the times he and Ashley had set off to explore the trails together.
It didn’t help that he felt drawn to Rebecca, either. She wasn’t Ashley—his mind and body knew that. Rebecca had Ashley’s red hair, but that was about it. Still, there was something about Rebecca that intrigued him and made him want to know more. At first glance, she was a walking paradox—a delicate-looking woman who spent her days staring down serial killers and other psychos. He knew better than to trust a first impression, though. In the short time he’d known her, he’d seen that Rebecca had a core of steel. She was much tougher than she looked, and he guessed she probably used her appearance to her advantage.
What other tricks did she have up her sleeve? The urge to learn about a woman was unfamiliar and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feelings. Ignore them and hope they went away? Or indulge his curiosity in the hopes his interest would wane the way it normally did?
Time enough to decide. For now, he needed to keep his eyes on the goal: get her to the site and back safely.
“Time for another water break,” he announced. He led them off the trail a few feet to the shadow of a large rock and did a quick sweep of the ground with the sole of his boot to disturb any creepy-crawlies that might be taking advantage of the shade. Rebecca waited for his nod before sitting down. She removed her pack and took out another bottle of water, her breathing slowing as she rested.
“Doing okay?” Her face was flushed with exertion from the heat, and her tank top was damp with sweat. Quinn had been religious about enforcing water breaks, but perhaps it was time for a longer rest...
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just didn’t expect this much of a workout.”
“Some of these trails are pretty tough going,” he said sympathetically. “But we didn’t pick an ideal time to set out. When I take you to the first site, we’ll start before dawn and that will make a difference.”
She nodded and took a healthy swig from the bottle. “Is this the only trail leading to the site?”
“Yes. But it’s possible he approached from a different direction.”
She considered his words for a moment. “Would it be an easier trek if he went off the trail?”
Quinn shook his head. “No. Believe it or not, the trail is the best way to get there.”
Rebecca pursed her lips in thought. “So whoever did this is in excellent shape.”
“Do you—” Quinn hesitated, not sure he wanted to ask the question. But he needed to know, even if the answer would only add fuel to his nightmares. “Do you know if the women were killed at the site or if they were already dead when he left them there?”
Rebecca took another drink. “The coroner thinks they were killed at the site. He erased his footprints, removing all signs of struggle as well. But I have to believe someone would have noticed a man carrying a dead body over his shoulder, even if they only saw him from far away.”
“So he lured them here.” The idea put a bad taste in his mouth that the water did nothing to erase. What kind of man did something so horrible? How could one human deliberately gain another’s trust, knowing they intended to kill them later?
“Looks that way,” she confirmed.
“Those poor women,” he muttered, shaking his head. Discovering the bodies had been bad enough, but knowing the women had been led to their deaths somehow made it worse. The killer and his victim had probably traversed this same trail, chatting as they walked, perhaps stopping to admire a bird or pretty flower. Had she smiled at him, thinking him a friend? Had he shared food with her along the way?
Quinn’s stomach lurched, the water no longer refreshing. He set aside the bottle and focused on a nearby cactus, trying to steer his thoughts in a different direction.
“It was quick,” Rebecca offered. He glanced over to find her watching him, her gaze knowing. “He broke their necks, likely while they were resting. No signs of sexual trauma, either, so they didn’t suffer that way before they died.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh—she was only trying to make him feel better.
“No,” she said quietly. “But in my line of work, I look for the small mercies to keep me going.”
“How do you do it?” He shook his head, trying to cast off his bad mood. “How can you stand to work with such evil day in and day out?” She didn’t look like an adrenaline junkie, nor the type to get her rocks off on the suffering of others. But there had to be some reason she’d devoted her career to killers and criminals.
Rebecca took a drink as she pondered his question. “I don’t enjoy my work—not in the sense that I think you do,” she said finally. “But I derive great satisfaction from finding a killer or solving a crime. There are bad people out there, and I believe if I can understand them, even just a little bit, I can protect others. I don’t want to learn about killers because they interest me—I study them so I can predict what others like them might do. I guess you could say I do this for the victims, in the hopes of preventing more deaths.”
Her answer made sense, and Quinn felt his emotions settle a bit. But one question still lingered. “How do you keep from bringing your work home with you? Doesn’t something
