Night Stalker. Shirlee McCoy
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River asked, his shoes tapping against the metal ramp.
“Figure of speech.”
“Good. I was afraid you’d forgotten that you’re currently on leave.”
“That would be difficult to do, seeing as how you and Wren remind me several times a day,” Adam replied. He sounded...older, more confident than he’d been five years ago.
And why wouldn’t he?
Time had passed. Life had gone on. He’d created his new reality. She’d created hers. They hadn’t spoken since the divorce papers were signed, their relationship cut off cold turkey as if they’d both understood that was how it had to be if they were going to move on without each other.
Cold air whipped across the parking lot, carrying a hint of wood-burning fires and pine needles. Winter would linger for another month or two. Then the world would blossom again. Charlotte planned to be around to see it. She planned to bring her dog-training group out on trails, to hike and fish and do all the things she did every spring and summer. She had to stay alive to do that. That was what she should be concentrating on. Not Adam and all the ways things were different. And the same.
She frowned, waiting impatiently as a black Cadillac drove around the corner of the building. It pulled up at the end of the ramp, and the next thing Charlotte knew, she was being bustled inside, nudged to the center of the back seat.
“When we reach your place, you’ll have to walk. I don’t want anyone seeing you in a wheelchair. We’re sticking to the story about your vacation. People are going to want to hear all about it. We’ll work on the details together. Okay?” Adam said as he slid in beside her.
She nodded.
The doors closed, and Adam grabbed her seat belt, pulling it across her lap and buckling it into place.
And then they were moving, the SUV pulling around the side of the building and out onto the highway, headlights gleaming on the paved road that led toward home.
* * *
He shouldn’t have come.
That thought was crystal clear in Adam’s mind, and he couldn’t shake it. Not that coming hadn’t been the right thing to do. It had been. The problem lay in the fact he couldn’t make himself leave. Charlotte had turned the corner a week ago. She’d gone from critical to stable to ready for release. The hospital had held her an extra day at the FBI’s request, and Adam had stayed by her side even then.
She was a habit he’d broken years ago.
Now he was forming it again.
That wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t an acceptable one. He’d come to Whisper Lake because he’d needed to make amends for his failures. He hadn’t come to reconnect with Charlotte or to fit himself back in her life.
They’d grown up and apart, and he’d been content with that.
He still was, but he couldn’t help wondering if that would change. Enough time with Charlotte, enough quiet conversations in the middle of the nights, and maybe he’d begin to fall for her the way he had all those years ago.
Wren took the turn onto the country highway that led past the lake, and Charlotte slid toward Adam. His arm came up automatically, his fingers slipping around her shoulders, holding her steady.
“Careful,” he cautioned. “You don’t want to tear your wound open and end up back in the hospital.”
“The wound is healing nicely. Tomorrow, I’ll see the surgeon, and he’ll probably give me the go-ahead to get back to my regular activities.”
“Tomorrow, huh?” he said, glancing at the rearview mirror. Wren met his eyes. Just like he knew she would.
“River, you want to contact headquarters and see if they can send someone out to check Charlotte’s injury?” she asked.
“They don’t need to send someone out,” Charlotte argued. “As I said, I have an appointment with my surgeon. It’s already been set up.”
“You’ll have to cancel,” Wren said bluntly.
If the FBI had its way, Charlotte would be on a plane and out of the area before the scheduled appointment. Adam knew that. He wasn’t sure Charlotte did.
“Look, I know you’re doing your job and trying to protect me, but I really don’t think I should stop living my life. If I do, people who know me will wonder why. They’ll start asking questions. That will lead to speculation and gossip.”
“Going to a surgeon who specializes in trauma is probably not the best way to keep your friends from asking questions,” Adam cut in.
Charlotte frowned. “It’s not like I’m going to make an announcement about where I’m going. I have to go into work, and—”
“You’re kidding, right?” he said, because there was no way she could really think that would be okay with anyone.
“I teach math at the community college, Adam.”
“I’m aware of that.” He wanted to add, “Congratulations,” because she’d accomplished the goal she’d been shooting for since they were in middle school. He didn’t, because she was angry. He could see it in the tightness of her jaw, feel it in the tension of her muscles.
“I can’t just continue to not show up for work. My boss isn’t going to be happy forever with the ‘unexpected family emergency’ excuse you guys provided,” she continued.
“We spoke to your supervisor and the HR department,” Wren said. “Your job is secure.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone knowing what was going on?” Charlotte countered.
“We make exceptions when we have to. Your supervisor assured us that he’ll keep the information private. He sent you his best.”
“When did you contact Reggie?” Charlotte asked, her hands fisted so tight Adam was sure she was gouging her nails into her skin.
“A few hours ago,” Wren answered, turning onto another road, the beams of the car glancing across a raccoon that scurried out of sight.
“It would have been nice to be informed about it before now.” Charlotte’s voice was tight, her words clipped.
“My team has been busy making sure your property is secure. We’ve also been putting together a backup plan. In case this doesn’t work.”
“This?”
“You staying at home.”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”
“Did you ever see yourself as the victim of a serial killer, Charlotte?” River finally cut into the conversation. As usual, when he spoke, what he had to say was right on point.
She shook her head, some of her tension easing, her hands relaxing. She understood what he was saying—that anything could happen in life, and that it was best to be prepared for it.
Adam could have explained that she already knew that.
Losing their son had taught them both the lesson.
The car fell silent as Wren navigated the deep curves. The darkness of the road made it difficult, and she drove slowly, easing around bends that Adam knew like the back of his hand. He knew the hilly areas, the blind entrances. He’d driven along this stretch of rural highway every day for nearly a decade. He hadn’t forgotten it. Sure, the forest seemed lusher, the trees taller. Everything else was the same. The glint of lake in the distance. The pinpricks of house lights through dense foliage. Not many people lived out this far. Those who did liked their privacy.
Charlotte stared out the front window, her hands resting on her thighs, her gaze focused.
“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.
She