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CHAPTER 2
When he saw Miranda, Qui
Ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, but the impact was the same. First, a mixture of awe and respect-he had yet to meet a person with greater resolve than Miranda. Next came love and pride, followed quickly by anger and frustration. So entwined. He couldn’t turn off his emotions like a faucet; how could she have shut him out so easily? How could she have walked away from their relationship without giving him a chance to explain?
He still had hope she would be able to put aside her blinding obsession with the Butcher and come back. But that hope had diminished with the passage of time. Now, he feared she would kill herself through neglect of her own needs.
Her back was to Nick; only Qui
As he watched, Miranda closed her eyes and shook her head, as if to rid herself of a nightmare. Or a memory. She pushed herself up from the ground, wiped her eyes with her forearm, and walked around to the dead woman’s feet. She stared at Rebecca’s covered body for a good minute before bending down and lifting the corner of the tarp.
Qui
“How long?”
Even from his vantage point fifty feet away, Qui
Always, the control. It was a miracle she hadn’t had a nervous breakdown with the weight of the world carried on her shoulders.
“Eight, ten hours?”
Qui
“Dammit, Nick! He had her for eight days. She almost got free. We’re only a few miles from the damn road. Four miles and she broke her leg. And, and he, he-” She stopped and turned away from Nick.
Watching Miranda wrestle with her control, Qui
But it hadn’t been enough.
“Doc Abrams is on his way,” Nick said. “He’ll be able to tell us more.”
“You promised, Nick.” She peeled off her latex gloves and shoved them into a pocket. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she approached the sheriff.
Qui
“Don’t try to protect me, Nick,” she said as Qui
“Don’t blame Nick, Miranda. I told him not to call you.”
Miranda heard the familiar voice: low, warm, as smooth as melting butter.
Miranda’s heart doubled, tripled its beat. For a moment, for much too long a moment, she couldn’t say a word. She had dreamt of that voice and the man who possessed it. She spun around.
Qui
For a second, a brief moment, she forgot everything that had happened between them ten years ago and felt the ghost of his arms wrapped around her, the soothing murmurings he’d whispered in her ear.
The only time she’d felt truly safe since the attack had been in Qui
He had changed-and yet he’d stayed the same. A few random strands of silver shot through his sandy hair. It fell just a little too long across the top, partly covering a bandage above his eye. His dark eyes still saw everything, but now faint lines fa
She hated the memories that rained down on her, hated even more that seeing Qui
“How dare you!” She berated herself for the quiver in her voice.
“I know you enjoy torturing yourself, Miranda, but I didn’t want to witness it.” Qui
A tic pulsed in Qui
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was stronger, but she didn’t trust herself to say more.
“I called him,” Nick said.
She turned to face her best friend. “You?”
Nick straightened enough to show he was uncomfortable. “I’ve been keeping Qui
“You’ve been working with him for-” She thought back to when Nick had first been elected sheriff and threw her hands up in the air. “Three years ! And didn’t let me know? How could you? I thought you of all people understood.”
“Miranda, I want this bastard almost as much as you do.”
Qui
Qui
He’d used it all against her when he kicked her out of the Academy.
She had plenty of time to break down later. Tonight. When she was alone.
“I know this area better than every deputy in the department,” Miranda said, her voice cracking as she fought to keep her temper and emotions in check. With one deep, probing look, Qui
She turned her attention back to Nick, gathered her strength. “You’re going to be searching for evidence and bringing in volunteers. You need me, and I need to be here. I need to look. I’ll see things no one else will see. I’ll-”
“Stop.” Qui
She glared at him and he dropped his hand.
“You need sleep,” he continued, his voice softer. “You’ve been searching for Rebecca all week. How many hours have you taken for yourself? You’re living on coffee and junk food. Go home.”
“No. No!” She turned from him, fearing the tears she’d been fighting all morning would escape.
Not now. Not in front of Qui
“Miranda, I’m calling in a team,” Nick said. “We won’t be ready for at least two hours. Doc Abrams needs to claim the body. Come back later.”
“Nick, I don’t think-” Qui
Miranda interrupted him.
“I’m going to tell the volunteers. Two hours, I’ll be here.” She couldn’t look at Qui
She walked past Nick, touched his arm. “I’m okay.” She didn’t know if she said it for his benefit, hers, or Qui
Qui
But once she landed at Quantico, her obsession with the Butcher took over her life. Or maybe it had been there from the begi
Why couldn’t she see it?
“Why’d you do that?” Qui
His gut had twisted at the pain he’d seen on Miranda’s beautiful, gaunt face. As if she were reliving Rebecca Douglas’s final minutes.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Qui
“She’s punishing herself for surviving.”
“I don’t know about that-” Nick began.
“I do . Miranda has a huge case of survivor’s guilt and it’s grown over time. Every time another girl is abducted, she takes on her death as if she were to blame.”
“I know she’s personally involved, but she’s an asset to the team.”
“Miranda doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘team.’ ”
“You haven’t worked with her for the past ten years. She won’t break, she’d solid.”
“You’re letting your personal relationship interfere with common sense.” Qui
Nick shot him a look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The sheriff started walking toward his truck.
“Don’t play coy with me, Nick. You’ve been involved with Miranda too long not to know better. She’s playing you. She’s good at that.”
Nick turned back to Qui
Nick’s face told Qui
“You never told me.”
“Why would I? I’d take her back in a heartbeat. Not that I have a chance now.” He looked down the path Miranda’s Jeep had taken. “Not with you in town.”
“She hates me.” Hate might be too nice a word. Loathe, despise, or abhor might be more fitting.
“She should,” Nick said glancing at him. “If you’d had me booted from the FBI Academy the day before graduation, I’d hate you. But she doesn’t.”