ONE

      FBI agent Lucy Sanderson stopped running, rested her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. She’d pushed herself on this run, harder than she had in weeks, and her body was pushing back. She glanced around. She’d run farther than she’d planned, and not being familiar with this town, she was uncertain where she was.

      She shouldn’t have come so far, or she should have turned back when the streetlights stopped being consistently spaced, but she’d been anxious to get her run in. She needed to get back in shape after letting her regimen lapse for months after her fiancé Danny’s death last year, and her legs ached after the flight down from Washington, DC, then the hour-long drive to the small Texas town of Whitten.

      Lucy glanced at her watch. It was after 7:00 p.m., and she really should get back to the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying. Her meeting with Bryce Tippitt, an old marine friend of Danny’s who’d reached out to her for help, was in less than an hour. His brother was accused of killing four women in this sleepy Texas town, but Bryce insisted his brother was innocent and being railroaded by the local police department. She’d agreed to come, anxious to put her FBI-trained profiling skills back to work after the paralyzing self-doubt that had set in after Danny’s death and she’d learned the truth about her fiancé and the lies he’d been telling her.

      She shoved her earbuds back in and music filled her ears, drowning out the sounds of nature as she started her run back toward town. It was time to stop sitting on the sidelines and pick up her stalled career where Danny’s death had left it. Her supervisor had encouraged her to come to Whitten, anxious to get her back into profiling, insisting she was good at what she did. Not good enough, however, to see what had been right in front of her face.

      Headlights rolled over her, and she glanced over a shoulder to see a car approaching. Lucy moved to the side of the road for it to pass, even though the roadway was clear and there was no oncoming traffic. Instead of speeding around her, the car slowed, then pulled to the side. She stopped and turned toward it, straining to see past the blinding headlights.

      Suddenly a man leaped from the car. He was on top of her before she realized what was happening. He pinned her to the ground, and all of Lucy’s instincts kicked in. She fought back, screaming and flailing and calling on every defensive move she’d learned at the academy. She managed to dig her nails into his skin, but, in the end, she was no match for his weight and strength. He pinned her with one arm and pulled a syringe from his pocket.

      If he managed to inject her with it, she was done for. She wiggled her arm free and knocked the syringe from his grip. Instead of retrieving it, he punched her several times. Her eyes watered from the pain as the world spun in and out of focus.

      She was still dazed as he bound her hands with a zip tie then ripped her phone from the holder on her arm and jerked out her earbuds, throwing the items into the trees. He lifted her, tossing her across his shoulder like a sack of flour. He was quick and efficient, and her limbs felt like rocks as all the fight seemed to drain from her. She couldn’t even cry out for help. Not that there was anyone around to help her. She was in an isolated area. Rookie mistake.

      He shoved her into the trunk of his car and slammed the lid, plunging her completely into darkness. Her mind was still working, racing with the thought that she needed to run, to get away, but her body refused to work, still in shock from such a brutal attack.

      She was going to die tonight at the hands of the very killer she’d been sent here to stop. The irony of it rushed through her as the brake lights illuminated the trunk in their bright red color and the car took off.

      But she wasn’t ready to give up.

      Lucy fought to stay awake when blissful unconsciousness pulled at her. She couldn’t succumb to it. If she did, she was dead. She fumbled, her hands searching for some way to free herself from the vehicle. Finally she found the trunk lever. She pushed it and the lid unlatched, bobbing ever so slightly up and down as the car moved along the asphalt.

      She could jump free, but not until the car slowed enough. If he caught her and she was injured escaping, she would be in real trouble. But if she waited too long, he might discover the trunk lid unlatched, and her one opportunity for escape would be gone.

      The car slowed then turned. Lucy raised up on her elbows to peek out. They were turning onto a dirt road. That wasn’t a good sign. She needed to go now while there might still be traffic in the area so she could flag down someone to help her. The deeper into the woods they drove, the less likely she was to find her way out.

      She had to go now.

      Lucy shoved open the trunk and jumped out, landing hard on her right ankle. Intense pain shot through her leg, but she didn’t have time to stop and examine her foot. She could still put weight on it,