don’t you go on back to town? I’ll find you if I have more questions.”
“Great. Here’s my card.” She dug a colorful card out of her jeans pocket and passed it to him.
“Hey, Morgan,” she called. “Can I catch a ride back?”
Garrett motioned to the chief. “I’d like you to have one of your deputies escort Miss Burns back to town. I’m concerned about her safety.”
“Why?”
“She may have seen the killer.”
“Lana, you didn’t tell me—”
“It was some guy I turned away earlier tonight. It’s probably nothing.”
“Scott,” Chief Wright motioned his deputy over.
“No, Morgan, don’t,” Lana said. “I’ll be safe with Scooner.”
“I’d rather not involve civilians,” Garrett said.
“He’s a former SEAL and Town Safety captain. She’ll be safe with him.”
Garrett acquiesced. “Please ask him to escort her all the way home,” Garrett suggested.
“Will do,” the chief said. “Forensics just docked.”
Garrett nodded at Lana. “Thank you, Miss Burns.”
Lana pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Good night, Agent Drake.”
With an arm around her shoulder, Chief Wright walked her past the forensics team, who made their way up the hill to the crime scene. Garrett fought the urge to call out one last warning, to ask if she had pepper spray or suggest she stay with a family member tonight.
Not good. He had to stop letting his protective instincts distract him and focus on finding Red Hollow. He could still be here, in Port Whisper, a threat to innocents like Lana.
A threat to his son’s grandmother.
The pain of losing his family rushed to the surface. Being back in Port Whisper where he’d asked for Olivia’s hand in marriage, where they’d planned a future they’d never have, was messing with him. Big-time.
It was distracting his focus from tracking a killer and protecting a fragile innocent, Lana Burns. The best thing he could do for her and everyone in town was leave the past behind and focus on the case.
Yet he needed to stop by his former mother-in-law’s place. He owed Caroline more respect than to have her find out about his presence in town through the gossip mill.
The experience wouldn’t be a pleasant one. He was sure she hadn’t forgiven him, and he couldn’t blame her. His ambition, his workaholic nature inherited from his father, put his wife and, at the time, three-year-old son in danger fourteen years ago.
“Agent Drake?”
Garrett snapped his attention to Deputy Finnegan.
“This is our forensic investigator, Oliver Marsh,” he introduced. They shook hands.
With a slow, deep breath, Garrett shoved his personal connections to this town away, locking the door. Analyzing his mistakes and regrets would only distract him from his most critical goal: finding the elusive killer before he struck again.
* * *
An hour later the forensic investigator offered his preliminary opinion: time of death was between 3:00 and 7:00 p.m.; there was dirt and blood under Washburn’s fingernails as if he had tried to claw his way out of something; and he’d most likely drowned. He wasn’t strangled like the rest of the victims.
That change in pattern disturbed Garrett the most. His team relied on the profile, designed to help them determine what the killer might do next, to whom and where.
They docked at Port Whisper and the forensic techs took the body to the lab where they’d continue their analysis. The chief took Garrett to meet with the teenagers who found the body, but they couldn’t offer anything helpful. They were still traumatized by the image of the dead man’s eyes staring up at them.
It was quarter past eleven. Garrett was tired, hungry and frustrated.
“I don’t suppose anything’s open this time of night?” he asked as the chief drove Garrett back to his car.
“Actually, the Turnstyle is open until midnight. Up Main Street about four blocks.”
“Thanks.”
The chief pulled over. “I’m assuming you’ll come by the office in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”
“I’ll find something.”
“You could always try Caroline Ross’s place, the Port Whisper Inn. It’s quiet and homey.”
And loaded with land mines.
“Thanks.”
“See you tomorrow.” The chief shook Garrett’s hand.
Garrett sensed the man was honorable and had decent instincts for a small-town cop. “Good night.”
Walking through town to the restaurant, Garrett called team member Georgia Hunt and told her to send a forensic artist to Port Whisper, but there was no reason the entire team should join him just yet. They should stay in Tacoma and continue to work leads from the previous murder.
Garrett, on the other hand, wasn’t going anywhere until he felt confident his former mother-in-law wasn’t in danger.
He could swing by the inn now, but it was late and he didn’t want to alarm her. Like a morning visit would be any less alarming? She probably never expected to see or hear from him again, maybe even hoped…
But he knew in his heart that sending Olivia and Steven into protective custody had been the only way to protect them from the serial killer that had made Garrett a target.
A year later, Olivia had filed for divorce. Truth was, their marriage started to crumble about the same time his career took off, shortly after Steven was born. Garrett threw himself into work to provide for his family, and Olivia accused him of being a workaholic, absent, aloof.
Like his old man.
Garrett hadn’t planned to become a workaholic like his father, but the job quickly consumed him. They’d solve a case, and another would pop onto the radar. They’d save a victim, but lose three more.
His work ethic intensified once the divorce was final and Garrett had no one to think about but himself.
That wasn’t true. He thought about Steven. Every single day of his life.
Three years after he’d put his wife and son into the program, the killer who’d targeted Garrett was shot eluding police. The threat gone,
