But then Grace had run away when she couldn’t catch up with the woman. And why wouldn’t she? She may have been in shock but she wasn’t stupid. She had known that when Adam came home and discovered what she had done he would kill her. The same way he likely killed that poor woman. She’d been found in an alley. As it turned out, she’d been homeless. Many of his victims had been. Young women who’d made the mistake of deciding they would be happier on their own or who had drug issues and had been cast out by their families. Prostitutes. People society sometimes ignored. Each one was found wearing nothing but the heart-shaped locket with their photo inside wrapped around their cold, dead fingers. This was the one thing he always left behind. After endless torture, he’d stabbed each victim directly in the heart—as if he’d studied the organ and knew exactly how to slide the blade into precisely the right place. Then he stabbed them over and over as if he’d suddenly lost control.

  There had been three in a two-year period. Then he’d stopped. Gibbons and his profiler had speculated that after Adam married Grace he’d stopped for a while. The woman in the basement was the only other known victim.

  Grace supposed it was possible he had tried to stop, but as the pressure of fatherhood closed in on him, perhaps he broke and sought out the pleasure he got from taking a victim.

  She rolled her eyes. She was not giving that bastard one iota of slack. He had brutalized and murdered at least four women. He didn’t deserve to keep breathing, but he would. The best she could hope for was that he would spend the rest of his life in prison.

  “You okay, Grace?”

  Grace snapped back to the present and realized Diane was right beside her. “Sorry. I was deep in the past.”

  “I should get started setting up the dining room,” Diane suggested. “I’m not sure Liam will hold a bite of supper after eating all those cookies.”

  Somehow Grace managed a soft chuckle. “Well, a few extra cookies now and then won’t hurt.”

  Diane grinned. “You should never say that around a yoga instructor.”

  Grace laughed outright this time. “Sorry. You’re right. Bad mommy.”

  As if Liam realized they were talking about him, he rushed over to Diane and tugged at her apron. “I can take the nackins.”

  “You can,” Diane assured him. She handed him the basket that held the freshly laundered and folded cloth napkins. “Mom can do the silverware.”

  Grace gave her a salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

  As they worked to ready the table for their guests, Grace wasn’t sure she could eat a thing either. The idea that her ex-husband was out there somewhere a free man wouldn’t let go of her. She couldn’t possibly eat.

  Adam hadn’t actually ever agreed to the divorce, but under the circumstances, Grace was able to push it through without his agreement. Would that change now that the murder charge against him might very well be dropped completely in the end?

  God, she hadn’t thought of that until just now.

  She supposed it didn’t matter. She would never be that woman again.

  But it would matter if he mounted a legal battle.

  The sound of the front door opening and then closing had Grace hurrying into the parlor. The weary look on Rob’s face tightened the band around her chest. Had something more happened related to her situation?

  Stop, Grace. She was overreacting. Rob had an entire community to worry about. She wasn’t the only person with problems. Hers were just more twisted and complicated than most.

  “We should talk privately.”

  Oh, dear God. It was about her situation. She nodded. “I’ll let Diane know.”

  Grace hurried to the dining room. “Diane, do you mind seeing after Liam for a while? Deputy Vaughn is back and...”

  Diane nodded. “Got it.” She smiled at Liam. “Little man and I have dinner under control.” She waved Grace off. “Shoo.”

  “Shoo, Mommy,” Liam repeated with a giggle.

  Grace managed a laugh and left them to it. Rob wasn’t in the parlor anymore, so she walked quickly toward her private quarters and found him waiting there. This must be bad, she decided, to warrant this level of privacy.

  She closed the door behind her and steeled herself.

  “There was a murder just a couple of miles from here.”

  Her breath caught. A murder? “What happened?”

  He moved toward her and she suddenly wished she hadn’t asked. Wished she didn’t need to know.

  He withdrew his cell phone and tapped the screen. “Do you know this man?”

  Grace stared at the image, a close-up of a face she knew as well as her own. Her brain froze up for a second. She blinked. Told herself to look again.

  “It’s him. It’s Adam.” Something hot rushed through her body, followed immediately by an icy cold. She swayed. Rob’s hand reached out and steadied her.

  “You’re certain?” he prodded.

  “Yes. It’s him. What happened?” The question popped out all on its own, even though she really didn’t care. Judging by the pallor of his skin, he appeared to be dead, and some part of her was jumping up and down and shouting that she was free. Free!

  “Stabbed multiple times.”

  She stared at him, reminded herself to breathe. “Like his victims.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “How long...?” She drew in another desperate burst of air. “Do you have any idea when this happened?”

  “The Cashions were away for the weekend. When they came home this afternoon, they found him, so we really can’t be sure just yet. I’m guessing early this morning. Maybe the middle of the night. The medical examiner will give us more on time of death after he’s had a chance to examine the victim. Obviously only hours after he was here.”

  Grace made her way to the closest chair and dropped into it. “I’m certain I should be feeling something, but I only feel numb.”

  Rob took a seat on the sofa directly across from her. “The emotions will come later when your mind has been able to absorb the reality of what’s happened.”

  She understood this from before, but still... Adam was dead. She didn’t have to worry about him coming after her. She could live her life any way she chose. She could—

  A new question bobbed to the surface of the haze currently shrouding her. “Who killed him?”

  “That’s the problem.” Rob turned the navy cap that matched his uniform around and around in his hands. “Like you said, he was stabbed in a manner consistent with that of his victims. No one here except you knew him—I’m assuming—so that can only mean one thing.”

  The reality of what he was saying slammed into her. Her heart dropped into her belly, and she wanted to rush into the kitchen and grab Liam. Hold him tight. “Someone followed him here...or came with him. One of his followers.”

  “It’s the only logical explanation.”

  Adam had followers. Before his identity was even known, there were those who praised the work of the Sweetheart Killer. Like all criminals who rose to notoriety, there were fans. After his arrest, the fan letters had poured in. The fact that Adam had been a handsome man—a charismatic man—had garnered him a huge audience.

  The fans had flocked to the home she and Adam had shared. The place had to be guarded to prevent them from going inside. His office in the business district and her father’s cabin in Lake Tahoe had both become shrines to Adam Locke.

  Well before that, Grace and baby Liam had gone into hiding.

  “I have to leave.” She rocketed to her feet. “I have to get Liam to safety.” Adam was dead, but if one of his fanatical followers was here, they wouldn’t be safe. All manner of threats had been made against her two years ago by those obsessed with Adam Locke.

  “Grace,” he said softly, too softly, “I know I promised you that I’d help you do that, but this has changed everything.”

  “How?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. We could be in danger. We can’t stay here.”

  “Detective Gibbons is on his way.”

  If he’d wielded a physical blow, he could not have shaken her more violently. “What does his coming have to do with me?” That fluctuation between hot and cold started again. She couldn’t stop it.

  “We have to do this the right way. Locke came here after you. Gibbons will want to talk to you. He’ll want to go over what happened on Sunday evening.”

  “None of this...” Fury tightened her lips. “Not his murder... Nothing is more important than my son’s safety. I don’t care what Gibbons wants.”

  “If you take off before this is finished, then Locke will still be haunting you, because you’ll look guilty. If you hold on just long enough to get through this, then you can put it behind you once and for all.”

  He was right. She recognized he was, but that didn’t make her like it one little bit.

  “I just need to be sure my son is protected.”

  “I’m going to ensure that the two deputies on shift tonight drive by every hour or so, and I’m checking into the inn and staying right here on this sofa.”

  “You...” She searched his face. “You would do that for us?”

  “I will do whatever it takes to keep the two of you safe. You have my word on that.”

  “Thank you.” She blinked to hold back the burn of tears. “There hasn’t been anyone since my father died. It’s just been Liam and me.”

  “That’s not the case anymore, Grace. You have me and a whole community of people who admire and respect you. You are not alone.”

  She wanted desperately to cling to that hope, but what this man didn’t understand just yet was that although Adam Locke was dead, his followers were not. By the time they finished or were caught, this whole community would rue the day Grace Myers arrived in their midst.

  Chapter Six

  Lookout Inn, 11:30 p.m.

  Grace could only imagine the lengths to which Detective Lance Gibbons had gone to find a flight leaving San Francisco for Chattanooga as soon as he heard the news. The strings he must have pulled to get on that flight. The minute he had landed, he’d gone straight to the morgue to view the body. Now he was headed here. Based on the call Rob had received from the man, Gibbons should be here in the next fifteen minutes.

  The memory of the way he had hammered her for answers during those first few days in the hospital after having Liam assailed her. He’d been ruthless, pushing her as if she were the criminal. The manhunt for Adam had been ongoing with no results. No one had called in to say they had seen him. Not even the usual crazies. It was as if Adam had put out the word for radio silence and the world had obeyed.

  But Gibbons had had a plan even then. Like Grace, he had known that Adam would want to see his son. She had begged for police protection in the hospital, but Gibbons had put a single guard on her room and left it at that. Her father had remained at her side until his heart attack. She hadn’t even been able to make his funeral arrangements for days after his death because she was still in the hospital. The doctor kept saying she couldn’t be released just yet.

  Later Grace had learned that Gibbons had seen to it that she stayed in the hospital three extra days. His long shot had paid off. Two days after her father’s death, Adam had stolen a doctor’s ID badge and scrubs and entered the hospital. Gibbons had been waiting.

  The pressure lowered on Grace for a while after that. She’d been able to leave the hospital and prepare for her father’s funeral. It was at his graveside service that she’d learned about Adam’s followers. A trio had shown up and attempted to abduct Liam. The two policemen assigned to watch her had done the best they could to hold them off. The funeral director had managed to get her and Liam away from the cemetery. A similar attack had occurred days later as she was leaving the pediatrician’s office. That was when she had known she had to disappear.

  Disturbed by the memories, she went to the bedroom to check on Liam. He had fallen asleep a little later than usual since Rob was here. The fact that Diane had stayed so late and Cara had returned had unsettled him. He was accustomed to there being only the two of them and the guests after eight in the evening. Generally, they only saw the guests passing through the lobby on the way to their rooms after dinner or an evening out.

  Tonight everyone had rallied around Grace. Even the Wilborns had returned for a short time to see if their help was needed. Both Cara and Diane had been stunned by her story and promised to do whatever was necessary to help her keep Liam safe.

  Grace sat down on the bedside now and swiped the hair from her sweet child’s eyes. Would they feel the same way if someone they knew and cared about lost their lives to one of her ex-husband’s followers?

  She hoped that did not happen. Enough lives had been lost to Adam Locke’s evil deeds, but there was no way to know when the other shoe would drop. If a follower had for whatever reason murdered Adam, she or he was likely far more deranged than the average fan. It was possible Adam had rebuked him or her for some reason. Or perhaps the killer wanted to prove he or she was better.

  At the soft knock Grace opened the parlor door expecting to find Rob, but it was Cara and Diane.

  First one and then the other hugged Grace tightly. “That detective from San Fran is here,” Diane explained.

  “We can stay with Liam if you’d like to see him,” Cara offered. “He says he doesn’t need to interview either of us just yet.”

  Diane made a face. “I don’t like him.”

  The two women could not be more different. With dark spiky hair and dark eyes, Diane was thin but well toned thanks to her dedication to yoga. Every one of her fifty years showed in the lines on her face, but she didn’t care. Never wore makeup. What you saw was what you got. Cara was more reserved. Her long blond hair was silky smooth, and she took great care with her makeup and dress. Though thin like Diane, she was more into running than yoga. Both were good friends to Grace. Better friends than she’d ever had in her adult life.

  “I don’t like him much either,” she admitted.

  “He wants to speak with you if you’re ready,” Cara said.

  Grace would never be ready, but she had no choice. “Thank you.”

  Diane urged, “We will get through this.”

  “I really appreciate the two of you being here.” Grace looked from one to the other and then did what she understood she must. She walked out, closed the door to their private quarters behind her and went to the kitchen. Since additional security was needed in light of the murder, Rob had ensured the new police presence was not overwhelming. Both deputies on duty for the night were dressed in plain clothes. Rob had spoken to the inn’s two guests and explained the situation. Both had been far calmer about the situation than Grace had expected, and she greatly appreciated their understanding. This was not the sort of thing she wanted to see in a Yelp review.

  For support, her gaze locked on Rob as she entered the kitchen. In her peripheral vision she noted that Gibbons stood at the island, his back to her. Grace walked wide around his position and straight to Rob’s side. With heavy reluctance she faced the man who had added to her nightmares for weeks after finding that woman in the basement.

  “Gia,” Gibbons said with a nod.

  “It’s Grace,” she corrected him. He certainly knew that by now, but he no doubt wanted to show he knew her for who she really was.

  “Grace,” he amended.

  Though it had been just over two years since she had seen this man, he looked at least a decade older. She hadn’t fared much better, she supposed. The sort of evil she had survived tended to age a person. Gibbons’s suit was travel rumpled, and an evening shadow had darkened his jaw. His bloodshot eyes told her he still didn’t sleep well. During the investigation, he’d told her he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since earning his detective’s shield. He was a homicide detective in a major city. The Locke case was just one of many nightmare cases he’d investigated. A good night’s sleep likely wasn’t a perk of the job for any investigator.

  Gibbons was a good man. A husband, a father. Grace had wanted to like him, but she’d experienced firsthand the ugly side of his need to get the job done at all costs. It was not pleasant, even though her only crime had been falling in love with the wrong man. Add to that the need to protect her child, and she was basically a hostile witness, in the detective’s opinion.

  “Detective Gibbons and I have discussed how this is going to go,” Rob said. “He has assured me you don’t need an attorney present.” Rob eyed the man with open suspicion. “But I don’t know that I agree.”

  She had a feeling their earlier conversation hadn’t gone as Rob expected. She wasn’t surprised. Gibbons never bothered to hide his opinion that Grace hadn’t told him everything. But she had. She had told him all that she knew about Adam. How they’d met...all of it.

  “Why would I need an attorney?” She looked from Rob to Gibbons. Though she asked the question, the answer was simple. The victim was a serial killer. Her ex-husband. The father of her child. The one she had turned over to the police. Of course she was a suspect.

  It didn’t matter that Rob would insist this wasn’t the case. She had been down this road before. Everyone knew when a person was murdered the spouse or ex-spouse was the primary suspect. She had more reason than the average ex to want Adam Locke dead. Last time around she had been a person of interest as well. No one had believed that she could live in a house where a victim was imprisoned and not know it was happening. But she hadn’t. Adam had kept his victims bound and gagged as well as drugged. He’d expected to be finishing off his latest victim that day when he got the unexpected call from work. He’d anticipated being back before her last dose of sedative wore off. Except it hadn’t worked out the way he’d anticipated.