“Hmm?”

“Hey, we just got a call,” came the voice over the radio, full of static and hesitation. “A young woman was attacked on Dubuque Road. She was on the phone when it happened.”

Sawyer perked up. “Where?”

“You’re out by Three Lakes, yeah?”

“Driving by it now.”

“Well, it’s near to you. Already have a couple of cars heading over. Detective Lopez should be there first. Thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

Sawyer twisted the steering wheel and faced down the mountain, picking up speed and flooring the gas. “Where again?” he called, sharply.

“Sending coordinates now. Check your cell phone,” came Sergeant Faber’s voice.

“Mhmm,” he replied. He clicked off the radio, feeling his cell phone buzz and pulling it from his pocket. He tipped the brim of his baseball cap back, frowning at the GPS coordinates sent his way, and then angled the vehicle down the slick mountain road, picking up speed as he headed for the location.

Sawyer inhaled the perpetually damp mountain air through his open window, eyes on the road ahead, but mind projected even further. He liked to take problems as they came; one step at a time. But he could feel those steps quickening, the pace picking up. He didn’t smile, but he felt tempted too.

The hunt was on.

The first sign of anything awry was the flashing blue and red lights beneath the dark gray skies and reflecting off the overhanging leaves on dew-tipped boughs. He pulled sharply over to the concrete barriers off the side of the road, jolting out of his vehicle as he did in one swift motion.

He didn’t even remember to slam the door as he hurried over toward where a group of police officers were standing by the concrete barrier near a jogger’s path and bicycle trail.

He recognized Detective Lopez standing furthest along the dirt road, under the trees, flashlight in hand, aiming it up and down.

Raindrops still clung to some of the leaves, but mercifully, though the skies remained overcast, the deluge had subsided.

“Anything?” Sawyer called, drawing near.

Detective Lopez glanced back over the concrete barrier, still in his suit and tie. He wrinkled his nose as the flannel-and-ripped-jeans-wearing BAU agent drew nearer. Then he gave a very Sawyeresque grunt. Participating in conversation without actually volunteering anything. Minimal effort.

Maybe Lopez wasn’t so bad after all.

The detective nudged the wet road with one foot and spread his hands, waving them up and down. “Apparently call was coming from this trail,” he said at last, a grudging note to his tone. “Haven’t found anyone.”

“Crank call?”

Lopez shrugged. “Didn’t seem it. Was some shrink—her client or something. She was on the phone at the time. Heard an approaching car, then a scream or something.”

Sawyer nodded, already moving along the trail, fishing his phone from his pocket and clicking on the light.

He aimed the flashlight off the side of the trail, moving with long steps away from where the whirring blue and red lights and gathered police were waiting, surveying the side of the road.