If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (19 page)

“Where is it, Joely?” she whispered, turning away from the cliff and looking around, her gaze searching, although she didn’t know what she searched for. What … where …

She squinted, trying to make things out as she started back up the trail.

And that was when she realized how dark it had gotten. Swearing, she jerked her phone out of her pocket, checked the time.

Shit.

She’d been in here for almost two hours—how in the
hell
had that happened? Fuck. Needed to get out of here. This was
not
where she wanted to be once the sun went down. She stumbled along the trail, half-tripping in her haste to get out of there.

She’d be back, though. At some point. She’d be back. And she’d keep looking, too, because there was
something
here. She knew it … and even as fear pushed her to move faster and faster, she felt like she had
finally
accomplished something. Even if all she’d mostly done was freak herself out.

He didn’t go to his place often.

He wasn’t planning to go there now, but every now and then, he just drove by it … thought about going inside, reliving things.

Reliving
that
night.

When Jolene Hollister had gotten away—

“What the fuck?” he snarled.

He came around the corner just in time to see Nia Hollister emerging from the woods. Under the smooth, café au lait brown of her skin she was pale, and even from here he could see how her steps stumbled as she tried to shove her bike closer to the side of the road.

What in the hell was she doing? His hands started to
sweat. He pressed on the gas, thought about pointing the van at her—gunning it. She wouldn’t stand a chance—

Fuck, what was she doing in the woods?

A car came blasting down the road, honking at Nia. She flinched, cringed.

As the driver waved at him, he automatically waved back, a smile plastered on his face. And because he’d been seen, he couldn’t think about doing anything else.

“Careful,” he reminded himself. “Have to be careful …”

Swallowing his snarl, he slowed down as she threw a leg over the bike. “Hey there. Ms. Hollister, right?” He rested his arm on the door as he stared at her from inside his van, gave her a friendly smile—the same smile he’d given her cousin, the same smile he’d given Kathleen Hughes, the same smile he’d given Carly Watson and more than a dozen other women … right before he’d lured them to their deaths.

She just stared at him, her eyes lost in her wan face.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice hollow.

“You sure? Look kind of pale. Like you seen a ghost.”

She flinched. Then, looking away, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders before she looked back at him. “I’m fine, sir. Just having some bad moments, that’s all. Got a little too hot, I think.”

He nodded in understanding. Then, as his rage and worry began to boil out of control, he pressed on the gas. He needed to get out of there now. As he drove away, he kept an eye on his mirrors, watched as she sat there on her bike.

Just sat there.

He needed to think … She was prying around just a little too much now. What was she doing in there? Had she found his place? Setting his jaw, he turned on the
police scanner and listened, half-expecting to hear a call going out.

There wasn’t one. Didn’t necessarily mean anything, though. He needed to get out of there. Check and make sure his traps hadn’t been disturbed—he’d know if somebody had been too close.

He couldn’t have her doing this. She needed to get out of his town. Preferably on her own. Because if she didn’t leave, he’d have to
make
her leave.

N
O
.

Nothing had been disturbed. Although he could see where she’d been … she’d come within thirty yards of the first trap he’d set up. Not a trap that would have harmed anybody, just enough to let him know somebody had been close.

This was close, though, far too close. Something had to be done about her, and now. Before she got any fucking nosier. Damn her. Damn that bitch.

It was almost nightfall by the time he emerged from the woods.

Full dark by the time he got home. Alone in the silence there, he started to plan. He’d kill her in a heartbeat if he thought he could do it and not bring suspicion back onto her cousin’s death. But it would—that was why she was
here
.

Worse, Ezra Fucking King knew it, Law Fucking Reilly knew it. He couldn’t kill her without alerting them.

So he had to find another plan.

Needed to get her
away
from here …

*   *   *

To her surprise, nightmares didn’t plague her sleep. Although Nia would have thought after the day she’d had, she’d have so many nightmares—she even feared going to sleep. But after two
A.M.
, she couldn’t fight it any longer and her body crashed. She slept deep, dreamless …

But then, something jerked her awake.

She lay there, heart racing, adrenaline crashing through her, and terror was a living breathing beast in her gut.

She didn’t even know
what
woke her. She only knew something was
wrong
.

The room was dark—too dark—and quiet. So quiet.

A strange, skittering sound came from by the window.

She swallowed, staring at it.

The lights—last night, there had been light outside the cabin—just those silly decorative lights that did no good at all, but it was better than nothing, right?

But they weren’t there now and
nothing
was all she had, nothing but the silvery moonlight, shining around a … hand.

Nia’s breath froze inside her lungs.

Hissing out a breath, she jerked up in the bed. Automatically, she went to turn on the light. But then the hand moved, and she swallowed the whimper in her throat. A shadow eased in—tall, at least he
seemed
tall … distorted by the window, by the light of the moon.

Oh, hell—

Swinging her legs out of the bed, she stood, still staring at that hand, at the silhouette of the man she could see. Her heart banged against her ribs and she would have
sworn
he was staring in at her, staring in at her through the curtains. Like he knew she was in there—like he knew who she was—like he knew she was awake.

Refusing to take her eyes from that shadow, she
grabbed her duffel from the floor. The gun was stashed inside it. She pulled it out slowly, her hand steady. Just as slowly, just as steadily, she eased the safety off and backed away over to the bed. With the gun in one hand, she reached for the landline phone on the bedside table with the other.

She thought about calling Law—damn, but she wanted him there.

But his number was programmed into her cell, and she wasn’t about to risk letting this guy know for certain she was awake by calling for help on her iPhone and letting that bright little light act as a beacon.

Not while he continued to stand there … continued to watch. So instead, she pressed
9-1-1
.

It wasn’t until she opened her mouth to speak that he turned away.

“You’re certain.”

Staring into Ezra King’s tired eyes, Nia swore and buried her face in her hands. “Damn it, you think I called you out here for fun, hotshot? Yeah, I’m certain. More, he left footprints, damn it. They aren’t
my
footprints—I might not wear Cinderella’s glass slipper, but my feet aren’t
that
big.”

Ezra nodded.

He’d already had one of his deputies taking notes, pictures, measurements—she’d watched, glad he was at least
pretending
to pay attention. And she didn’t think it was a pretense, either.

Ezra nodded again and looked back at the notebook he held. “You got anybody from back home that might have followed you? You got a high-profile sort of job. Any stalkers?”

“Stalkers?” Nia laughed humorlessly. She wrapped her arms around her middle, but it did nothing to ease
the ache inside—she was cold, she was miserable, and scared.

Damn it, she should have called Law—almost had, several times. But what would she have said?
Hey, I know we’ve had some great sex and all, and I know we’re not exactly sure what we’re doing here, but I’m kind of freaked out. Could you maybe come over? I know it’s late, but I’m scared … I want you to hold my hand
.

Hell, no. She wasn’t about to risk being that vulnerable. Not right now. Not yet.

“Nia?”

Looking back at him, she scowled. “No, Sheriff. I don’t have any stalkers. And my job’s not that high profile. I won’t ever count as high profile unless I just luck out and hit a major story. A few people know my name. And most of them are people who’ve worked with me. But I don’t have any crazed fans stalking me, nothing like that.”

Another slow nod. But she had the feeling he didn’t like what she’d told him.

Nia wasn’t all that delighted with it, either, because she knew what it meant. The only logical answer—somebody knew she was asking questions. And there was only
one
person who knew for sure that she had every reason to ask those questions.

Joely’s killer.

Fear punched through her, but she didn’t let it control her, didn’t let it take her over. She wouldn’t. Setting her jaw, she held Ezra’s gaze, saw the knowledge in his eyes.

She opened her mouth, but he gave a tiny shake of his head. For just a moment, he shifted his gaze over her shoulder, all without moving his head.

Nia snapped her jaw shut, not certain just
what
he was trying to say. But right now, she was freaked enough
that she’d listen. Listen to somebody who seemed to believe her.

So she waited.

Waited while the deputies did their thing, while they came up and muttered in their cop-speak to the sheriff, waited, and waited, and waited—gritty-eyed and chugging coffee like there was no tomorrow. She’d just put the second pot on when the last of the deputies disappeared out the door.

Turning around, she saw Ezra standing by the door.

“I’m leaving two of my deputies here,” he said flatly. “And if so much as a jackrabbit pokes an ear out of place, I’m to be called.”

“I didn’t see a rabbit, King,” she snapped.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” He rubbed a hand over his face, looking tired and pissed off. “How many people know
why
you’re here, Nia?”

She shrugged, staring down into her coffee cup. “Beats the hell out of me.”

“How many?” he demanded, an edge to his voice.

“Shit, how in the hell am I supposed to know? It’s not like I went and took out an ad, damn it. I told you. That’s it.”

“Me. Just me. You didn’t tell Law?”

“Hell.” Scowling, she rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. I told Law. But I’m pretty damn sure he wasn’t lurking outside my door.”

“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t either. I’m just covering the bases. So Law knows. Who else?”

“Nobody.”

He lifted a brow.

“Damn it, I haven’t exactly been making friends, you know. Yeah, Law knows, but other than that, I didn’t
tell
anybody.”

“Think anybody has guessed? Anybody asking a lot of questions? Like the librarians while you were digging
through the archives, anybody at the courthouse? Anybody, Nia. I need to know just
who
could know you’re here because you don’t think your cousin’s killer is dead.”

She gave him a sharp-edged smile. “Well, if you put it like that—three people, for sure. Yeah, I did tell Law. But it wasn’t him. So besides Law. You … and her killer. I’m pretty damn sure
he
knows why I’m here.”

Ezra closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.” Then he opened them and pointed a finger at her. “Stop. Whatever you’re doing … 
stop
. Maybe even go
home
. I’m doing what I can, but damn it, I don’t want another dead woman on my hands.”

“And I don’t want my cousin’s killer going unpunished!” she shouted, the words ripping out of her. Spinning around, she slammed the coffee cup down. She braced her hands on the counter and swore as the fear of the night hit her hard and fast. “Wait … what, you’re doing what you can?”

Ezra sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yes. Quietly. Which is the way it
has
to be, Nia. Whoever in the hell is behind this
knows
this town, knows the people. I can’t run the risk of him catching on to what I’m doing, so quiet is how I have to handle this. And it would be a hell of a lot easier for me if you would just
go
home—where you’ll be safe.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Damn it, you think I
wanted
something freaky like this happening? But I can’t just leave, Ezra. I can’t.”

“What if you’re right, Nia?” he asked quietly. “What if you’re right … say the guy who killed her set everything up, is walking around this town, scot-free, and he sees you. He
knows
why you’re here, what you’re up to. Now he’s got a new focus. You want to be that focus, lady? You got any idea what he did to your cousin? He didn’t just
kill
her.”

“I know what he did to her.” She swallowed the bile, set her jaw against the grief and fury. Then she turned around. On legs that trembled, she made her way to her bag and reached inside, pulled out the file. Joely’s autopsy report was in there. Reading it had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “I know people, King. I know what he did to her—in detail.”

She held it out to him.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he accepted it. “How did you get a copy of this?”

“I know people,” she repeated, shrugging. “And with some of them, I know things they’d rather I not know. I called in favors, I bribed, threatened. Whatever. Does it matter?”

Ezra frowned. “I didn’t hear that. I swear, I didn’t hear that.” Then he gave the report back. “I don’t need to read it. I’ve already done that. And you shouldn’t have.”

“I had to.”

“You had to see that,” he muttered. Then he shook his head. “Okay. If it was me, I would have done the same thing. Maybe you were a cop in your past life.”