“No.”
Even at the edge of unconsciousness, her mind tried to sort out the story. “Why are you doing this?”
“That doesn’t matter to you. What matters to you is living and becoming famous by solving the murders, correct?”
“Yes,” Rachel whispered, fighting to stay conscious. “Tell me how to find the murderer.”
A hard hand, one covered in what felt like a thick glove, descended on her head. She yelped but the rope cut off all sound and prevented her from moving. “That’s your job. Follow the story, ask for help, find the leads. But under no circumstances mention Laurel Snow or the FBI again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
The hand flattened out, feeling like death. “Say her name again.”
Rachel hesitated. “Laurel Snow.”
The rope tightened faster than a whip, and she tried to scream but no sound came out. She clawed wildly and the smell of copper filled her senses. Then the darkness pressed in from each corner. She fought it.
The darkness won.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Huck’s truck screeched to a stop outside of Rachel’s new home and he jumped out, running toward the doorway. The police had cordoned off the area with yellow crime tape, and he had to flash his badge to get beyond a burly guy in full uniform. Then he proceeded inside the complex, an older condominium with cream-colored accents and a view of mountains in the distance.
Rachel sat on a sofa with boxes on either side of her. A blanket had been hung over her shoulders and a paramedic was taking her vitals. Her blond hair was a wild mess and a line of bruising was already visible across her neck.
He halted when he saw that she was all right.
She looked up, her eyes vulnerable, and her body shaking despite the blanket around her. “Huck.” Tears filled her eyes.
He moved toward her and the two state police detectives who were already taking her statement. They finished and moved on as crime techs milled around, working the scene. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Once again, she looked like the sweet reporter he’d fallen for. “I thought he was going to kill me.” She shuddered and pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders. “I called you first but then had to call the state police because I knew they’d get here first. I was so scared.”
“It’s okay.” He moved a box off the sofa and sat, patting her hand. Eons ago, he’d thought he was in love with her, and those feelings were long gone. But he didn’t want her to be terrified. “Take a deep breath, hold it, and breathe it out.” It was a technique he’d learned from one of his counsellors, and sometimes it could work. “Trust me. Try it.”
She did so and soon her breathing grew steady, although she was so pale, she looked like she was about to pass out.
“Tell me everything. You’re safe now.” He listened to her relate the events of the night, his gut churning.
Finally, Rachel wound down. “Why would Laurel Snow send somebody to threaten me? I’m just doing my job, and if she does hers, it’s all as it should be. Why would she do this?”
“She wouldn’t,” Huck said, running a hand through his mussed hair. He hadn’t bothered to brush it when he’d gotten the call. “This doesn’t make any sense. It could be the killer messing with us, or it could be some whack job harassing you.”
“No.” Rachel vigorously shook her head. “He insisted that I not call the police. He didn’t want notoriety. His only goal was to frighten me enough to back off Laurel and you.” Her hands plucked at the plush blanket over her shoulders. “Would she hire somebody to protect you?”
This was getting out of hand. “Rachel, think about it. Anybody with half a brain would know you’d call the authorities the second you could breathe again. You’re also a reporter and an incredibly ambitious one at that. No matter what this person said to you, if you lived through this, you weren’t going to be quiet. You were not going to give up on your story.”
She swallowed and then winced, putting a shaking hand to the raw skin on her neck. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. But one thing for sure is that this person wants publicity.” If it was the killer, he was looking for more news about himself than he’d been receiving so far. If not, then who could it possibly be? “Are you sure it was a man?”
“I’m not sure of anything. It could’ve been a man, woman, kid . . . just somebody with a lot of strength and a voice distorting mask or something.” A tear leaked down her face but her chin began to firm. “I need to go live in a few minutes. Can I interview you?” There she was. Rachel was back.
He edged away from her as she began to rearrange her hair. “Don’t do this. You’re giving the guy exactly what he wants if you go public with what happened here tonight.” He patted her hand, wanting her to think like a cop and not a reporter for once, even as he knew that wasn’t fair. “Don’t give this jerk what he wants.”
She pushed the blanket off. “This is what I want. Either you stay for the interview, or I’ll grab somebody else.”
“Grab somebody else and leave me out of it. I’ll respond with a full story on another channel, with your competition, if you use me or the FBI this time.” He stood and exited the apartment, jogging through the crisp air to his truck. On the way back home, he called Laurel.
