The Hunt

She’d always wondered whether she’d be able to face the man who attacked her. After all these years, the nightmares, and the sacrifices, perhaps at last she was on the verge of finding out.

“Let’s go,” Qui

She looked up. She hadn’t noticed the room had cleared out, or that Qui

“Where?”

“The University. To talk to Mitch Groggins.” He glanced at his watch. “I just talked to the cafeteria supervisor. He’s there until nine in the evening. We should be able to catch him.”

“Me?” She blinked. He didn’t actually mean for her to go with him? To be only feet from the man who might be the Butcher?

Qui

“I guess-my mind wandered. I don’t know how good I’d be to you.”

She wanted to go, desperately wanted to face each of the four men and have them speak. Close her eyes and listen to the cadence of his voice. She would know which man was the Butcher because she’d heard his voice in her nightmares.

This could be it-if Mitch Groggins was the Butcher, they’d have him behind bars today. Why was she hesitating?

Qui

“You’re shaking,” Qui

“What if Groggins is him? I-” She paused. “Maybe you were right all along.”

“Excuse me?”

“About me. I’m not cut out to be an FBI agent. I don’t know if I can face him and not either scream or scratch his eyes out. I always thought once I knew who the Butcher was, once he was behind bars, I could stand there and spit in his face and tell him he was going to be injected with poison, that he would die and go to hell. And somehow, that would make me feel whole again.”

“Miranda, I-”

“But,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear excuses or little white lies to make her feel better, “now that we are actually getting close, that I believe for the first time in twelve years that we are going to stop him, I don’t know if I can look him in the eye knowing what he did to me.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away from Qui

Qui

“You can handle anything, Miranda. I never doubted your strength, I never doubted your ability. You would have made a great FBI agent-I just felt at the time that you wanted it for the wrong reasons. That you never would have been content to head down to Florida and work bank robberies, or political corruption in D.C. I thought that you would only have been satisfied as the permanent agent here, in Montana, working this investigation.

“I wanted you to take a year to really think about what you needed in your career. You were so positive you could find the Butcher once you had a badge. Your choices were all about him , not about you . I was so proud of what you’d accomplished at the Academy. You should be proud. Not only were you an exceptional student there, you’ve been an outstanding asset to the Sheriff’s Department here.”

“Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve become, is because of him . I don’t know who I am.” Miranda tried to turn away, but Qui

I never stopped loving you.

She didn’t deserve Qui

Qui

“I don’t-”

“We have to go. You can do this. I’ll be there with you. I will never let him hurt you again.”

She found herself nodding. She didn’t know if she believed him, but he had faith in her.

She vowed not to disappoint him. Or herself.

Mitch Groggins wasn’t the Butcher.

While he was the general height of her attacker-which Miranda had loosely guessed at between five eleven and six two, along with half the male population over eighteen-he was ski

Yet, it had been twelve years since she’d seen his silhouette.

As soon as she heard his voice, the whiny, nasal tone, she knew beyond a doubt he wasn’t the Butcher. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared.

But she’d done it. She’d faced a suspect and hadn’t screamed or shot him. She’d been terrified, but she’d faced him and felt stronger for it even though Groggins was i

Qui

Her courage was there, he knew. He hoped she realized it. Facing Groggins was the first step.

The police in St. George, Utah, called his cell phone when they were halfway to the Lodge. They’d spoken to the construction company owner, Younger, and he was belligerent. But the fact he was in southern Utah at present put him at the bottom of the list, if not completely off it. He claimed he was at his office all day, and the local police were following up on his alibi.

The only way Younger could have made it back to Utah from Montana in the seven hours since Nick’s truck had been discovered would be to fly. Qui

He checked in with Colleen Thorne, his on-again, off-again partner, who was already in Grand Junction on her way to see Palmer, Pe

“Palmer’s now at the top of the list,” he said when she picked up her phone. He filled her in on Groggins and Younger. “Proceed with caution.”

“Will do, but don’t you think if he’s the Butcher he won’t be home?”

“It’s not that far from Grand Junction to Bozeman. Ten hours, maybe. He could return to throw suspicion off. But if he’s not there, we’ll put an APB out on him for questioning.”

“I’ll let you know. We’re almost to his house. I also spoke to the president at the university in Denver,” she said.

“And?”

“He’s more than happy to help. He’s contacting the head of the wildlife biology department to find out what projects Larsen is assigned to, and we should be able to talk to both the director and Larsen tomorrow morning. It was after hours, so it took a little time to track them down. But I have Larsen’s address-he has a small apartment near the university-and an updated photo from his employee ID. Do you want me to send it to you?”

“Now?”

“I have it on my Blackberry.”

Qui

He hung up and turned down the Lodge driveway. He glanced at Miranda. She appeared to be sleeping, but he knew she wasn’t.

He’d meant every word he said back at the Sheriff’s Department, but he knew she didn’t believe him. Frankly, he couldn’t blame her. She’d had ten years to create worst-case scenarios in her head about why he did what he did. He’d tried to explain then, but he should have continued. He loved her and shouldn’t have given up on her, thinking she’d come to her senses on her own.

She’d been scared and worried and angry. Even if she had seen the truth then, she was too stubborn to admit it.

But part of her strength was her tenacity. Her stubborn determination helped her survive; it formed her character and gave her the motivation to continue moving forward against almost insurmountable odds.

He loved that about her.

But she was also insecure. About her own strengths and fears. That the fear would win. How could he convince her that she would persevere? How could he explain that being an FBI agent wouldn’t have made her fearless?

Qui

“Yeah?” Her voice was low, quiet.

“You heard my conversation with Colleen.”

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about it? Do you have any questions?”

“No questions.” She paused, opened her eyes. “I hope it’s one of them, Qui

“It’s one of them.”

“Is that your experience talking?” She gave him a half-smile.

“No, it’s my gut instinct. Listen to yours.”

“Okay.” She reached for her door handle.

“Let me walk you to your cabin,” Qui

She nodded and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Dear God, when would it end?

Long after the sun took the minimal warmth it had offered in the dank, dark cabin and retreated for the night; long after the first howl of a coyote pierced the quiet stillness; long after Ashley had cried herself to sleep, Nick lay awake waiting.

The Butcher would return. And Nick could do nothing to protect Ashley.

He couldn’t have imagined how unbearable the night would be.

Each struggle against his ropes pulled them tighter, binding his hands to his feet behind his back. While he was pushed against the wall, Ashley was restrained in the middle of the small room. Finally asleep, finally with some peace after a day of mounting fear.

When his head had cleared somewhat, he’d encouraged Ashley to try to scoot over to him, see if she could untie his binds. But she was chained to the floor, unable to move. And every time he tried to roll over, his bonds tightened.

Nick tried to assure her they’d find a way out. Tried to convince her that his people, and the FBI, were close to learning the identity of the killer.

But how would they know where to look? Nick didn’t know who the Butcher was, only that he’d been hanging around the Parker place. He could have been a friend, an employee, a tenant of Richard Parker’s. Or he might be a squatter. Or Richard Parker himself.

Would Qui