CHAPTER ONE
SUMMER HURRIED PAST the shop windows and café doors, all closed up for the night, her sneakers tapping a quiet tattoo on the concrete path.Glancing behind her, she let out a tight grunt of relief when she saw the street remained empty.She chanced a quick peek at her watch—just past nine p.m.—then silently cursed herself for getting too carried away photographing the gorgeous sunset over Lake Union and not concentrating on the time.Even this early in the season, the nights in Seattle were staying lighter for longer.Which was great, because it allowed her to take some amazing photos.But it also meant that temptation had prompted her to break her own self-imposed curfew—never walk alone after dark.
With a sigh of relief, she reached the front door that led to her block of flats, checking behind her before punching the entry code into the keypad.Taking the stairs two at a time, Summer began mentally ticking off her list of things she needed to complete tonight.Tomorrow she was due to head out on a three-day field trip with a group of photographers from Wildlife Defenders, going to the Flathead National Park in Montana to see if they could document a small population of an endangered large cat, the lynx.Their work would help in the preservation efforts of this beautiful animal, and Summer was excited to have been chosen.Almost packed, she had all the stuff she would need on this excursion already neatly laid in her large backpack on the floor next to her bed.She was planning on taking her Nikon, of course.And her Canon—currently slung around her neck—as a backup.But even now she was debating whether to take her Hasselblad film camera.This project required still photos only, and her Hasselblad was heavy, adding to the weight she’d have to carry.
Summer reached the landing of her fifth-floor apartment, puffing only slightly.Taking the keys out of her jeans pocket, her movements automatic and familiar, she was still considering the pros and cons of what equipment to pack.If she took her Hasselblad and recorded the Lynx on film, that could be priceless.It would be the first time she’d ever captured this graceful, elusive creature on film.But if…
Summer drew up short as she went to put her key into the lock.The door was ajar, and on closer inspection, it looked as if the bolt had been broken.
“What the…?”Summer stepped back and surveyed the landing, eyeing the three other apartment doors on this level, which were all closed up tight.She shifted her focus to the elevator doors in the far corner, but they too were shut, the digital readout next to the button displaying that the elevator car was all the way down on level one.There was no one up here, and she’d seen no one on the stairs either.But that didn’t mean they hadn’t used the elevator to make their getaway when they’d heard her coming.She returned her gaze to her door, unsure whether to go inside or hightail it back down the stairs.Who would want to break into her apartment?No one should be able to get into the building without a code.Did that mean it was another resident?She cast a sideways glance at Tad’s door, opposite hers in the far corner.No, even he wouldn’t stoop to that.
All her cameras were in her flat.Had some thief broken in and stolen them?She had to go in and find out.Gingerly, she pushed the door until it swung open.Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she gasped at the destruction laid out in front of her.Her once-beautiful apartment looked like a bomb had exploded inside it.Chairs were tipped over, the glass coffee table had been smashed, and books and knickknacks had been swept from shelves, forming piles on the floor beneath.The bunch of daisies she’d bought only yesterday were shredded and strewn all over, the water from the vase leaving a wet puddle in the middle of the rug.Her bicycle, which had been sitting on its training stand in the corner window, had been overturned, the spokes on the front wheel twisted and bent as if they’d been stomped on.Even her sofa hadn’t been spared, the cushions thrown across the room, scattered heaps of stuffing creating small white clouds on the wooden floorboards.
This wasn’t just a break-in.Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to trash the place.Or they were looking for something and were in an extreme hurry.
But why?What had she done to provoke such wanton destruction?
She had no enemies.Everyone liked her, didn’t they?
Careful not to step on the broken glass shards from the coffee table, she edged her way past the upturned furniture and detritus of her life to where the door to her darkroom stood open.She always left that door closed.Always.Which meant only one thing.Whoever the thief was, they knew what they were after.Her cameras.Carefully, she poked her head around the doorframe, expecting the worst, but was surprised to see most of her equipment still in the room.They’d been taken down from their cupboards and scattered on the bench top, but all were here and intact.With a single notable exception.Her big Nikon was missing.
A thought struck her, and she swiveled on her heels, heading for her bedroom.Oh, please let it still be there.
She barely registered that her room had also been wrecked as she dropped to her knees next to the far bedside table, pushing the baseball bat she always kept under her bed out of the way, and placing her Canon and backpack on the bed as she did so.Opening the small cupboard door, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw the safe hidden inside, untouched and unopened.With lightning-quick fingers, she punched in the code and peered in.Lifting her head to the sky, she touched the tiny cross at the base of the throat and sent up a silent prayer.Thank the Lord they hadn’t found her Hasselblad.The old film camera had cost her a pretty penny and was her pride and joy; it was almost irreplaceable.Unlike a lot of photographers, she wasn’t a collector of camera paraphernalia, but she had a few curated pieces.And this was the pinnacle of her collection.Her newer Hasselblad, the one she was contemplating taking on her field trip, was also an expensive item of equipment, but nothing compared to this beautiful old piece.
A sudden noise made her lift her head to peer over the top of the bed.The door to the wardrobe that filled the wall on the other side of her room was open.Hadn’t that been closed when she came in?Then she heard the unmistakable sound of booted feet crunching across broken glass.
Someone was in her apartment.
The thief was still here.
Had they been hiding in her cupboard all along?Her hand clasped the baseball bat.This was the exact reason she kept it under her bed.Everyone told her she was crazy, that she lived on the fifth floor and no one was coming in here.And yet… Leaping to her feet, she gave a banshee yell, brandishing the bat above her head and sprinted around the end of the bed, getting to the doorway just in time to see a figure in a dark hoodie clutching her Nikon to his chest, run through her front door.
“Hey, stop!”she shouted.“Give that back.”She launched herself after the dark figure.
But when she reached the exit, he’d already vaulted down the first set of stairs and was on the fourth-floor landing.“Stop, thief,” she yelled over the railing at him.For a split second, the tall guy looked up at her, and she glimpsed a large, hooked nose and two beady, almost black eyes staring at her.Then he was taking the steps three at a time, sprinting downward.
Not thinking, Summer took off after him.No way was this bastard getting away with her camera.Especially after he’d just trashed her apartment.Gripping the railing, she flew down the stairs after him, hoping she didn’t misstep and break her ankle.But all her years of running, and swimming, and biking stood her in good stead.She was fit and athletic, and could most likely outrun this guy in a race.If only she could overtake him.In her haste, she dropped the bat on the third-floor landing but continued the chase without it.
The man barreled through the front door and took off down the street while she was still descending from the first floor.Determined to catch him, she put on an extra spurt of speed as she made it to the entryway and pushed the double doors with all her might, stumbling out onto the pathway.
Straight into a solid wall of muscle.
The air left her lungs, and she gave an involuntary grunt of surprise.She and the man who’d appeared from nowhere went down together like a sack of potatoes.Somehow he maneuvered himself in mid-air, so that he was the one who landed on the concrete first, with her on top of him.Which causedhimto give an involuntary grunt of pain.
“He stole my camera,” she yelled.“I have to catch him.”She struggled to untangle her legs, to get up so she could give chase.The stupid idiot, what was he doing standing in front of the door?Now the thief was getting away.
By some miracle, the man managed to disentangle himself and stand up, reaching a hand down to help her up.“Are you okay?”His tone was terse, worried frown lines crisscrossing his forehead as he did a clinical perusal of her body, presumably looking for injuries.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she snapped, then turned to stare down the now empty street.“But that bastard stole my camera.”She took off in a half-hearted dash in the direction the thief had been running.
“No.”A hand landed on her shoulder, and she came to an abrupt standstill.“You wait here; I’ll see if I can find him.”His deep voice held such an air of authority that Summer found her feet coming to an automatic halt, and then she watched him jog smoothly away down the street, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, unable to come up with a retort.Who did he think he was, ordering her to stay as if she were a trained show dog?She was of half a mind to follow him.But the gap between her and the stranger was widening quickly as his tall form flitted between the intermittent pools of light cast by the street lamps, and she knew that even on her swift feet, she wouldn’t be able to catch him now.She’d have to come to terms with the fact that the thief and her camera were long gone.
Retracing her steps, she retreated to the well-lit area in front of her building to stand and wait, on the slight chance the stranger might return with her precious possession.
If he wasn’t some kind of accomplice, that was.
The sudden thought jolted her, and she backed up against the glass door, welcoming its solid feel against her spine, head swiveling at every real and imagined noise.That man could’ve been standing guard on the street, waiting for his thieving friend to appear, and now he’d gone off to join him, both of them laughing at her gullibility.Maybe that’s why he hadn’t stopped the burglar, and instead stepped in to slow her down.
