“Well, we’re not exactly in control of the timeline. Don’t even know who we’re looking for.”

  Then Lance spoke. “Enough of this fairness stuff. I’m a volunteer. What I’d like to know is what you want?”

  She hesitated, pursing her lips, forcing her fatigued mind to address the situation. “What do I really want?” she said finally. “Another week or two of recuperation so I can help meet this guy head-on if he shows up. And once I’m a little better, I so want to take him down. He killed five young women for no discernable reason other than his personal jollies. I loathe him. I want him behind bars, and I want to help put him there.”

  “Done,” said Seth, rising. “We’ll keep you invisible.”

  She looked up. “People know I’m here.”

  “People can also hear that you’ve left. We’ll take care of it for now. Just don’t tell anyone back home where you are. That seemed to have seriously worried your field office.”

  “Noted.” More than noted. It seriously worried her. “Who called the sheriff anyway?”

  Lance shifted. “You know, I didn’t ask. Do you need to know?”

  “It might give me an idea who’s worried and how many people might know where I am.”

  “I’ll check into it.”

  Seth scooped up his saddlebags. “Thanks for the coffee. Erin? If we shift our team, I’ll personally introduce you to any new guys. Don’t believe anyone but me.”

  Erin listened to him leave, then watched through the front window as he rode away. “Why should I only believe him?”

  “Because he knows who might be helping, which might at some point be more than I do. I know most of the folks around here, but apparently Seth is developing his own case of mistrust.”

  She pondered that, her stomach flipping. “About what?” she asked finally.

  “Right now I don’t think he’d trust someone who showed up with Bureau creds wanting to see you.”

  Erin wasn’t so sure she would either. Damn, she felt sickened. Then another thought struck her and escaped her lips before she could stop it. She was usually good at concealing her thoughts, but since her brush with death...well, silence was harder. “I feel set up,” she said.

  Lance’s attention zeroed in on her like a laser. “How so?”

  Too late to recall the words. Her stomach soured. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, I think you do.”

  She glared at him. “I’m a mess. Nobody should listen to me right now.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Then he crossed the room, ignored her protests, and carried her to the couch. Sitting beside him made everything else want to go away. God, he smelled so good, felt so strong. It was like sitting next to a bulwark. The urge to weaken filled her, and she hated herself for it. She was no weakling.

  And yet she loved being this close to him, and part of her wished he would put his arm around her, hold her to his side, tell her everything would be okay. It would be a lie, of course, but such a sweet lie.

  Then her internal spine stiffened. What kind of weak vine was she becoming? This wasn’t her. This was a side of her that existed only because of a trauma and the overwhelming physical fatigue.

  “Why’d you do that?” she demanded.

  “Because I want you to know you’re not alone.”

  “I figured that out,” she said acidly. “And I don’t like being toted around like a sack of potatoes.”

  “You could never resemble a sack of potatoes,” he answered. Was that a laugh trembling in his voice? “Look, I wanted you closer. Sorry I took matters into my own hands.”

  He wanted her closer? A kernel of warmth stubbornly blossomed in her heart and between her legs. No, no, no. She was acting like a young idiot and she’d left that behind long ago.

  “Now,” he said, wisely changing the subject, “why do you feel set up?”

  She let a sigh escape. “We went over it.”

  “So let’s go over it again.”

  “You are one stubborn man.”

  “Back atcha.”

  Despite her crankiness, a small bubble of laughter escaped her.

  “Better,” he approved. “Now run me through it again. Maybe I’ll hear something differently this time.”

  She sighed again, feeling like a hamster running in a wheel, but acknowledging that he might indeed pick out something he’d missed before. Or she might. “The identity of agents working on a task force is closely guarded. The task force in this case consists of two agencies, the Bureau and ATF.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Anyway, we have a face, the agent who addresses reporters and the public, but only when necessary. Everything else is hush-hush. Even under ordinary circumstances the Bureau doesn’t like to reveal the identity or appearance of particular agents working a case. Getting my name, knowing who I was to get past the switchboard, finding my home address...those things shouldn’t have been easy.”

  “Property records once the guy knew your name?”

  She shook her head. “The deed is under my maiden name. A simple records search wouldn’t link me with it.”

  “Layers and layers,” he remarked, then fell silent.

  “Anyway, as stupid as it may sound, it suddenly occurred to me that I might have been identified on purpose, not by accident.”

  He gave a low whistle, and stared out the window. “I don’t think that was a stupid thought. Nor, I suspect, does whoever called the sheriff. Let me give him a call right now.”

  He rose and went to get a phone, and she sat there feeling strangely bereft. Considering she was used to being alone except at work, her reaction seemed strange. But then all her reactions seemed to be messed up right now.

  Poking around inside, she tried to find the woman she had been only a month ago. She must still be in there somewhere. Or maybe she had been irrevocably changed. She hated to even think of the possibility.

  Lance returned shortly. “Your ASAC called the sheriff. Tom Villiers. And he was quite definite that Gage should speak to no one else at the field office.”

  “That’s not good,” she murmured. Most definitely not good. Tom didn’t want anyone else to know what was going on. Distrust had grown there, too. A fruitful tree, as Lance had said.

  He sat beside her again. “Want one of those pain pills? I can give you coffee to keep you awake.”

  She seriously thought about it. Every part of her seemed to be hurting since their trip to the store, and sleeping without pain last night had been restorative, at least for a while.

  Then she realized that the dull aches that were so annoying her had reached the level of throbbing. The sharp spears couldn’t be far behind.

  She twisted her head, looking up at Lance, and realized she trusted him. “Thank you. I guess I will take some.”

  He nodded. “So some trust grows at last.”

  “I’m not a complete fool,” she said a little sharply. “You didn’t know me from Adam two days ago. What’s more, with all that’s happened with your sheriff, I think someone would have remarked that you’d been leaving town often over the past few months. So you’re not my bomber, obviously.”

  A snort escaped him. “Finally vetted.”

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m not.” For the first time he showed a spark of something besides humor and concern. The gaze he shot her was as sharp as steel. “You have every reason to be suspicious right now. Only a fool wouldn’t be. How much do you trust your ASAC?”

  She caught her breath. Shock seemed to ripple through her aching body. “My God.” Words deserted her.

  “Right. I’ll get that water and your pill bottle. Don’t you stir more than an inch or two.”

  For once she didn’t argue. The new thoughts roiling around inside her terrified her. Tom? A vague suspicion that someone on the task force might have set her up was a far cry from putting a face on that person. But Tom... She couldn’t imagine it. He had fifteen years with the Bureau and a stellar record. Never a hint of trouble. By the book and a damned good investigator. He could have been the poster boy for an exceptional agent.

  But the idea that anyone... Lord, would she have to start considering them all, one by one? Friends, acquaintances, coworkers? Who could be so angry with her and why?

  Abruptly, she became aware that Lance was holding out her pill bottle and a glass of water. She wanted to brush it aside now, but realized that some of her injuries hurt enough that soon they’d be an utter distraction from clear thought, pill or no pill.

  So she took only one instead of the recommended two. Lance had undoubtedly read the dose on the bottle, but he didn’t say anything. He put them aside, then returned with fresh coffee.

  “You look like you just had a really unpleasant thought,” he remarked.

  “I did. If I was set up, then that means that someone in the task force is in contact with the killer.”

  He nodded. “Obviously. What else?”

  “I suddenly wondered if those first five victims were simply a cover for coming after me. And who the hell among my coworkers could actually work with a bomber? That should violate every FBI agent’s code. Who could get into the Bureau with a psychological twist like that?”

  “I’m not familiar with the requirements.”

  She sighed and let her head fall back. A shiver of pure delight ran through her as he took her hand gently in his. “You don’t just take a test. You don’t just finish a degree in one of a number of critical skill areas. You don’t just pass a thorough background check. We’re tested in real-life situations to see how we’ll react. The whole time we’re training, we’re being watched for weaknesses, mistakes. We’re watched throughout our entire careers. The Bureau doesn’t want any rogue agents.”

  “I can sure understand why. And there have been very few over the agency’s history.”

  “A mere handful. So fitness isn’t limited to physical conditioning. It includes an ongoing and constant psychological and emotional evaluation. We tend to be boring and very stable people actually.”

  “Well, you’re not boring.”

  “But I suspect I’m not very stable at the moment. When I’m physically well enough to return to duty, as you know, I’ll be seeing a psychologist for evaluation.”

  “That’s wise, don’t you think?”

  “Of course it is.” The pill was just beginning to take effect. She could feel the faint buzz of it throughout her body and her mind. The medicine did make it possible for her to turn her head and look at him, however. Definitely a plus, she thought, looking into his amazing eyes. “No one, absolutely no one, should be involved in something like this, concealing a killer to get a fellow agent. I won’t say there are no politics, but not of this kind.”

  “I read you. I also get that this is getting uglier by the moment, and I wouldn’t have believed that was possible.”

  “Everything inside me is rebelling.” But whether she rebelled or not, the snake had entered the garden, and with it questions and doubts were springing up like weeds.

  Who the hell did she know that would be capable of such atrocity?

  Chapter 7

  Lance had steadily been urging her to take the pain pills. She’d slept a lot, rested a lot, and three mornings later she awoke to find that when she climbed out of bed the shock of the familiar pain that usually froze her in place had subsided to something much duller.

  After showering and dressing in slacks and a black T-shirt blazoned with FBI, she went out to the kitchen to find him cooking breakfast.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He turned slightly from the stove where he seemed to be making scrambled eggs. “Morning. You look a lot better.”

  “I’m feeling better,” she agreed, entering the kitchen. This time she got her own coffee.

  “Can I say I told you so?”

  “Be my guest.” She smiled. “You were right. Rest works better than pushing through.”

  “Had a little experience of that,” he agreed and turned back to the stove. “Scrambled eggs okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “There’s toast on the table.”

  There was also a jar of peanut butter. Silly, but it was touching that he’d been putting that out every morning since the first time she had asked for it. Even her ex hadn’t bothered with that, figuring that she could get it herself if she wanted it. Which was true. But having someone think of such little things was a new experience for her.

  “No more info?” she asked him.

  “Nada. We’re still on alert, but your field office hasn’t called except once to make sure we still had eyes on you.”

  “Maybe I should call Fran. She must be getting really worried by now.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “Tell me about Fran.”

  So she sat with her coffee and began spreading peanut butter in a thin layer on a slice of toast. “She’s been my friend since I took my first field assignment. In a way, she was my mentor. Being women, we had our own set of problems, if you follow me.”

  “I do.”

  “So we kind of supported each other through all the hazing. We haven’t always been assigned together, but we’ve remained friends ever since.”

  “Friends like that are good to have.”

  Maybe, she thought, keeping it to herself. The passage of time had only made her uneasier about the whole situation. Every case involved a certain amount of uncertainty and shadowboxing, at least in the initial stages. With this bomber she’d been shadowboxing for way too long. “I wonder if I should call Tom. If he’s figuring out anything he wouldn’t share it outside the Bureau.”

  “There’s an idea.” He brought a heaping mound of moist scrambled eggs to the table, then sat across from her with his own eggs. “You’re a pretty woman, Erin Sanders. Even more so this morning. I’m not surprised your ASAC wants to date you.”

  His words took her aback. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed the way he looked at her sometimes, and certainly she was aware of the yearnings he awoke in her, but they’d studiously avoided such subjects. Wisely, she thought.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “I don’t want you feeling uneasy under my roof.”

  “I don’t feel uneasy.” No, what she felt was quite the opposite. She felt appreciated. Quite a contrast to feeling like a hobbled, washed-out dishrag. She summoned a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Deputy.”

  He chuckled. “I guess we covered that subject as much as we ought to.”

  “Why?” she asked bluntly. “It’s normal. If I were in better condition, you might have to look out.” There, she’d said it, and it was like removing a weight from her chest. Some things were easier to deal with in the open. This was one of them.

  “Oh, your condition wouldn’t matter,” he said, a twinkle in those aquamarine eyes. “Believe me, I could love you in a way that wouldn’t cause you a single twinge.”

  She lost her breath. If she had been blunt, he’d just been much more so, and the images he conjured caused her heart to slam and her body to hit hyperdrive. “Just like that?” she finally managed to say.

  “Just like that,” he agreed. But apparently he felt they’d taken this as far as they should. “Tell me about your ex.”

  “Why? He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “He has plenty to do with you.”

  She thought it over while eating some of her toast and sipping coffee. “Okay, but then it’s your turn.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “Deal.”

  “Paul was a great guy in many respects,” she said loyally. “We were just a bad pairing. He liked regular hours, a regular life. I don’t have that very often. He also started worrying about me to the point that he wanted me to quit.”

  “About your safety?”

  She nodded. “I would venture that my job is probably safer than yours.”

  “Not around here,” he laughed. “So he wanted you to quit. And do what, exactly?”

  “That was never clear,” she admitted, “but I somehow don’t think he was imagining me as a police officer, period.”

  “What then?” But he didn’t seem to expect an answer. “What did he do for a living?”

  “He was a minister.”

  At that his head snapped up. A moment later a laugh escaped him. “Somehow I just can’t see that combination.”

  “Apparently you’re right.” She was unable to repress her own smile. “I simply didn’t have the inclination or time to be a good minister’s wife. I thought the ground rules were clear by the time we’d dated for a while. Clearly not. It was like an elephant in the room, and the longer we ignored it, the bigger it seemed to get.” Until he had finally accused her of trying to hamper his career, of preventing him from getting a position at a larger church.

  He arched one eyebrow, unsuccessfully concealing a grin. “Maybe he worried that if anyone learned you were FBI it might make some in his congregation uneasy.”

  She was glad she had nothing in her mouth then, because a laugh burst out of her. “He’d know more about that than I would.”

  “Privy to all the secrets, huh? That can be an uncomfortable situation.” He finished the last of his eggs and reached for a slice of toast. “So are you stir-crazy yet?”

  “I’ve been too tired. But it’ll come. I’m not used to being so inactive.”

  “Neither am I. Never wanted to count the cracks and stains on the ceiling.”

  All of sudden she felt just terrible. “I’m so sorry, Lance.”

  He winked. “I’ve built up a long list of things I need to do around here. That’s not a bad thing. It’s just that they’re easier to ignore when I’m sweeping through in a rush.”