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do. And they won’t release any additional information on the victims or their families. I’m sorry, I’m trying to hear you out, Summer, but none of this sounds like anything I can help you with.”

“I’ve got a list of names and addresses,” she said before he could say anything else.

“How?”

Summer shrugged. “I read the news articles, did some digging online, as much as I could.”

Clay didn’t say anything for a minute. Summer looked out the window as they started gaining elevation, moving into Turnagain Pass, the last bit of isolated highway before they started edging closer toward the limits of the Municipality of Anchorage.

“Why?”

“Think about it, Clay. I’m being targeted. I must have something in common with these women, or he wouldn’t have gone after all of us. I’m one of them, but...not.”

“And you won’t be if I have anything to say about it.”

He practically growled the words, but in a protective way. She almost smiled, but Summer had more to say, so she kept going. “Are you going to listen to the rest?”

“I’m sorry, go ahead.”

“Thank you. I think it’s more than just a physical description connection. There must at the very least be some way he knew all of us, or had seen all of us...something that drew us to his attention. Right? Surely he didn’t just drive down to the Moose Haven area of all places and stalk the first two people he met who looked like the other women he’d killed?” Summer wasn’t sure, she could be reaching there, but she knew if she was Clay would tell her. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if her speculation had her on the right track or not, but sitting around waiting for someone to try to kill her again wasn’t working for her. She had to do something, be involved somehow, and this was the best way she could think of. Besides, it made sense to her, that maybe this could help them make progress. If there was even a chance, it was worth it to her to try.

“It’s a reasonable question to be asking.”

“So if he knew all of us, maybe I’ll be able to figure out a connection if I can talk personally to the families.”

“They may not let you, you know.”

“The police?”

“No, the families. This is painful for them. They may not want to revisit it, especially with a woman who at least vaguely resembles the person they lost.”

“That I understand.” Summer hesitated. “But if it would save someone’s life? Or maybe more important for them, if it would bring a killer to justice?” Her heart was beating faster now, but for once in the last few days, it wasn’t because of fear but anticipation. Somehow she thought this would work.

He reached over, squeezed her hand and let it go before she even knew what was happening.

Blinking, she moved her hand to her lap when he released it—which was almost as soon as he’d touched it, it was that fast—and looked over at him.

Clay smiled. “I think we’ve got a shot at finding something we can use today. It’s a good idea, it really is. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

She understood that. That was the dangerous thing about hope—when it didn’t come through for you, it was almost worse than if you’d never had any in the first place.

Her hand still tingling from Clay’s touch, she angled her body a little more toward the window and looked out at the scenery as they drove, ticking off reasons in her head why she shouldn’t let herself care that he’d touched her hand.

She was being stalked by a killer. He was only staying for the summer.

And most important, she’d made mistakes and he seemed like the poster child for a Christian nice guy.

Yes, sometimes hope wasn’t worth the pain it caused.

NINE

Summer had gone quiet after sharing her plan with him, and while Clay knew his mental energy would be better spent thinking about the case, he couldn’t stop thinking about how she was acting.

Was it his fault, because of that quick hand squeeze?

He wasn’t the best with women, wasn’t one of those guys who charmed his way into a date often. He wouldn’t say he couldn’t, he’d just rarely tried to be flirtatious because it seemed dishonest to him—if he wanted to get to know a woman better, he’d be straightforward.

Not that he’d been trying to do that with Summer. Nothing like that had been on his mind. Only a strong admiration for how quick thinking she was, and the desire to show her he was on her side. That he cared.

All it had done was push her away.

It took all Clay’s focus to keep driving and not pull over and go for a walk in the woods. Or a run, that would be better. He missed the routine he’d had to keep himself in shape back when he was a police officer. He could easily maintain the same habits now but driving across the country had thrown that schedule off some. He needed to get back into the swing of that. He glanced at Summer. He considered bringing up to her now the idea of them running together—to get him back into shape and to let her get out of the house while still being protected—but from the way she leaned away from him to the way her arms were folded, everything about her said “no trespassing.”

Instead he just drove, through the vastness of the Kenai Peninsula, up into Turnagain Pass, then around Turnagain Arm as they approached Anchorage from the south side.

Summer broke the silence. “When we get to the police department, they won’t separate us, will they? I mean, we’re not suspects so it’s not like TV. Right?”

Clay’s shoulders relaxed a little at a conversation he could easily handle. “Not at all. They just want to share information, really. They may treat you a bit like—”

“Like a victim?” Her tone made no secret of her hatred for

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