He put the knife aside, several feet away. Just in case. The woman on his table had proven to be smart and strong. A little too smart and strong for his liking, but he’d soon fix that. The moment his captives’ wills broke, the moment they realized that no one would come to save them, that he was their master for as long as he chose . . . He smiled. That was satisfaction.

Closing the door behind him, he left the torture room and went to his office. Powering up his laptop, he brought up the cameras, expecting to see a salesman or someone stranded—

He stared at the monitor, shock rendering him motionless for several long seconds.

It can’t be. It simply can’t be. But it was. It was her. She was here. Standing at the cemetery fence. Staring at the grave markers, her face as cold as ice.

How can she be here? He’d seen the news reports, the pictures of her little blue Prius, twisted and smashed. She could not have walked away from that. I know I killed her.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Obviously, he had not. The girl had more lives than a damn cat.

Go, finish the job. But first he had to make sure she was alone. He switched to the camera out front and got another jolt. A Jeep Cherokee, bright red. Filled with boxes.

She’d already bought a new car, but at least there were no other passengers. Good. He’d take care of her once and for all. He’d have to catch her unaware because the bitch carried a gun. He couldn’t allow her the opportunity to use it. She’s all alone out there. Kill her now.

He switched back to the cemetery camera, then cursed again. She had a cell phone out, taking a picture. He ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Skidded to a stop at the back door and peered through the gap between the boards that covered its window.

His heart sank. She was typing into the phone, giving it a final tap.

She’d sent a text. She’d texted a damn photo.

Somebody would know she’d been here. He couldn’t kill her now. Not here. Never here. Disappointment mixed with his panic. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk the law coming around, poking into his business. Or even worse, the press.

Find her and kill her, but not here. He edged his way to the front room, peered out the window. His pulse pounding in his head, he watched her get in the Jeep and drive away.

Part of him wanted to jump in his van and follow her. To kill her now.