“You’re at Grant’s place?”

“Yes. In the woods behind the garage.”

“Is he restrained?”

“Don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere,” she assured him.

“Stay put. We’ll be right there.” Brody hung up. He returned to the chief’s office, summarized Hannah’s call, and gave his boss Grant’s address. “I’m going there now.”

The chief rose to his feet. He motioned for the sergeant. “Get whoever is on patrol out there, and get some backup from the county and state police. They’ll have to pull personnel from the manhunt. Brody, do you have any physical evidence other than the haircut the killer gave the second victim to indicate these two incidents might be related?”

“Not yet.” Brody ran for the exit. Hannah was in the woods with an armed attacker. Pushing his sedan, he cut the drive out to her brother’s place to twelve minutes. He parked near the garage behind a patrol car. Running toward the woods, he yelled, “Hannah?”

“Over here,” a male voice answered.

Brody spotted figures in the forest. What the . . . ? Hannah was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, brows knitted. She appeared calm, but Brody could see the turmoil brewing behind her negotiation face. Next to her, a uniformed patrol officer stared at a man strung from a tree by his feet.

“Get me the fuck down from here,” the criminal barked.

“You want me to cut the rope?” Hannah pushed off the tree trunk and started toward him.

The criminal craned his head to stare at the ground five feet below his face. His body twisted. “No!”

“Make up your mind.” She shrugged, her casual gesture belied by the fury in her eyes.

Brody’s gaze swept the scene. Hannah had strung the man up like a side of beef. He and the patrol officer exchanged a look of disbelief—and respect.

His gaze lifted to Hannah. He walked over to her and pressed his forehead to hers. She’d told him she was all right, but until he’d seen her, touched her, his heart had refused to process that fact. “I can’t believe you caught him. You’re amazing.”

She was totally badass, and he was damned glad.

Her eyes were bleak. “Show him the picture, officer.”

The patrol cop held out a cell phone. It looked like Hannah’s cell phone case. Brody shaded the screen. Oh, shit. Chet.

“He won’t tell me where he is.” Hannah’s mouth thinned.

“We’ll find him.” Brody put an arm around her. More sirens approached. He went over to the patrol cop. “Let’s get him down.”

The cop grabbed the thug’s shoulders. Brody released the gear spool on the winch, and the officer lowered the man to the ground.

The cop handed Brody a wallet. “His name is Mick Arnette. He’s from Las Vegas.”

“Is this the man who attacked you in Vegas?” Brody asked Hannah.