All of them looked grim-faced.

Sawyer gestured at two of the cops. “You, and you, with me. Check the woods.”

“We already did.”

“Do it again. With me.”

Sawyer stalked off like a hound with a scent, and the indicated police officers fell dutifully into line behind him, moving around the shack, toward the woods in search of the missing killer.

As they moved, Ilse felt a shiver up her spine. If the killer had come for Samantha twice, what was stopping him from striking a third time?

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

“You’re sure you’re all right to move around like that?” Ilse said, allowing her voice to carry concern.

“I’m fine,” Samantha murmured, wincing as she stepped barefoot through the house. Every so often she would glance toward a window, or pause by the front door and check to make sure it was locked. The plastic bag she’d used to cover her bandages while showering was visible over the edge of the trash can by the sink.

Dusk had fallen, and Ilse sat at her kitchen table, watching Samantha. Her client hobbled on her feet, rubbing at the thick bandages along the base of her neck. Sam’s hair was wet from the shower, and she now wore a change of clothes Ilse had loaned her.

A cup of tea sat across the kitchen table, cooling where it sat neglected on its coaster. Small little strands of steam wafted from the glass, streaking the window over the table with mist.

“We’re safe,” Ilse called from the kitchen as she listened to the rattle of the patio door. “No one is going to get to us. There’s going to be a patrol car in the neighborhood, too.” Even as she said it, though, she wasn’t sure she believed it. Ilse winced, feeling her pounding headache brought on by sheer exhaustion. Her eyes ached, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse in her bed and drift off.

But not yet—not now. Was it true? Were they really safe? Samantha’s killer was still out there. Twice, he’d gone after her. What would stop another attempt?

Ilse shivered at the thought, rubbing her nose and inhaling deeply if only to oxygenate her blood stream.

Samantha came back into the kitchen, wincing again, and then slumping into her seat, inhaling the steam from her cup of tea, her eyes wide as she stared at the table. At the same time, her shoulders were heavy, her head bowed as if exhausted.

“You can take the bed if you’d like,” Ilse said, quietly. “I’ve already made up the couch.”

“No. No, Dr. Beck. The couch is fine. Really. Thank you. You’ve been too kind already.” Samantha’s voice cracked briefly, but then she glanced off, inhaling more steam from the cup of tea. “I… I was so scared,” she said, her voice shaking. “I just froze up.” She looked up now, her eyes bleary, whether from tears or the steam, Ilse wasn’t sure.

Sam shook her head in a quick jolting motion. “When I called you… When he came up behind me. I just stared. I didn’t even run. I was frozen to the ground.”