“Mhmm.”

“Good… That’s good.” Ilse winced. “I hate to think what he might have done with them… I’d been thinking he’d left Samantha alive just to torment her. But what if… what if he left her alive to… to do things?” She shivered and broke off the sentence, glancing to the side and clenching a fist against her knee. Her sweatshirt felt old and worn now, and she wanted nothing more than to placate Samantha and take a long, steamy shower. Maybe two, and then change into something clean. Then sleep for days.

Sawyer glanced back, hands jutting in his jeans pockets, and he shrugged once. “Thanks, Doc.” Then, without so much as a goodbye, he turned and slunk off toward the office space in the back of the precinct.

Ilse watched him go, feeling a frown of curiosity crease her features. A strange man, Sawyer. But good at his job. Dependable, too, it seemed. She still wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into her, to use herself as bait, texting the agent as if she’d known he would show up.

What if Sawyer had ignored the text?

What if he’d been slow?

Despite his gruff nature, he seemed an odd combination of reserved and emotionally stunted, combined with protective and diligent. A man of instinct and action.

It was Ilse’s turn to smile once, nodding in approval and then turning toward the doors to the precinct. Now, she could go home, take that shower, and tell Samantha the good news.

It was all over.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The lock clicked behind Ilse. This time, she double-checked, but didn’t triple-check. Incremental progress—small baby steps instead of concrete shoes. She moved away from the door with a sigh, grateful to be back home. As she moved in the dark, she glanced toward the couch.

Two wide eyes stared out from beneath a comforter and a couple of sheets.

“Hello?” came Samantha’s voice. “Who is that!”

“It’s me,” said Ilse. “Dr. Beck. It’s just me. I’m so sorry I’m late. But I have good news.”

There was a pause, and the eyes on the couch flashed. A shadow moved, one of the sheets falling off the form as a hand pulled on the chain of a small lamp. The small space illuminated, the light reflecting off the glass door that led to the patio.

Samantha had the comforter up to her chin, her legs now pulled up against her, creating a bump in the middle where it looked like she’d wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her body. She rocked back and forth a bit, a soothing, soft motion.

“Good news?” Samantha said, quietly. “Where were you?”

“I got sidetracked,” Ilse said, wincing. “Sorry. But yeah, really good news. They caught the guy.”

Samantha stared.

“I was there, I saw him.” She paused, then frowned. “Aaaand… I forgot the pizza. Damn it. Sorry.”

“I’m not hungry. They—they caught him?”

Ilse bobbed her head. “Was some creep, perving up and down the mountain roads, looking for victims. He’s with the police right now. He’s done.”